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UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


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in  2012  with  funding  from 

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AI.0N7.0    CHAPPEL    PINX'T. 


128 


DECATUR'S  COMBAT  WITH   THE  ALGERINE  CHIEF. 


Columbian  Edition. 


The  Wonderful,  the  Curious  and 
the  F^eautiful  in  the 

World's  History, 

AS    RECORDED    IN    THE 

Historical  Literature  of  Europe  and  America, 

FROM    THE    EARLIEST    PERIOD    TO    THE    PRESENT    TIME. 

The    Progress    of    the    Human    Race   reflected    in    the   Choicest    Literature   of   All    Ages. 
Embracing  Strange    Incidents,   Thrilling   Descriptions   and    Remarkable 

Facts   in   the    Lives   of 

CELEBRATED    HISTORICAL  CHARACTERS, 

Rulers  of  Nations,   Great  Generals  and  their  Battles,  Heroes  and    Leaders   in  the  World's  Progress, 
The  whole  forming  a  GRAND  PANORAMA  of  Passing  Events. 

By    WILLIAM    S.  BRYAN, 

The  Renowned  Writer  and  Historian, 
AND 

JOHN    CLARK    RIDPATH,    LL.D., 


Author  of  Ridpath's  School  Histories  and  a  Cyclopedia 
of  Universal  History,  etc.,  etc. 


Illustrated    with   over  Two  Hundred  and    Fifty   Striking    Pictures    and    Haif=Tone    Steefl 

Engravings   by   the   Greatest  Artists. 


HISTORICAL  PUBLISHING  COHPANY 

PHILADELPHIA 


Copyright,   1893,  by  H.  S.  Smith. 

(ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED.) 
SOLD    ONLY    BY    SUBSCRIPTION. 


*:(;*  The  illustrations  in  this  work  being  from  original  drawings,  and  protected 
by  copyright,  their  reproduction  in  any  form  is  unlawful,  and  notice  is  hereby 
given  that  persons  guilty  of  infringing  the  copyright  thereof  will  be  prosecuted. 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,    AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL 


IN    THE 


WORLD'S    HISTORY. 


LIFE  AND   MAXIMS  OF    FRANKLIN. 

GREATEST  among  all  the  philosophers,  in 
the  beneficial  results  of  his  discoveries  and 
maxims,  stands  the  name  of  Benjamin  Franklin. 
For  this  reason  we  have  thought  it  proper  and 
right  that  a  sketch  of  his  life,  and  the  best  of  his 
maxims,  should  have  the  first  place  in  this  collec- 
tion. 

Parentage  and  Boyhood. 

Benjamin  Franklin  was  born  at  Boston,  on  the 
17th  day  of  January,  1706,  and  was  the  youngest 
but  two  of  a  family  of  seventeen  children,  two 
daughters  being  born  after  him.  His  ancestors, 
as  far  as  they  can  be  traced  back  (at  least  three 
hundred  years),  were  petty  freeholders  at  Eaton, 
in  Northamptonshire ;  but  if  we  may  judge  by 
the  surname  of  the  family — the  ancient  Norman 
appellative  for  a  country  gentleman — we  may  con- 
clude they  had  originally  been  of  some  conse- 
quence. After  the  Reformation,  the  immediate 
progenitors  of  Benjamin  continued  zealously  at- 
tached to  the  Church  of  England  till  towards  the 
close  of  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second,  when 
his  father  Josias,  along  with  his  uncle  Benjamin, 
became  dissenters.  These  men  were  both  bred  to 
the  trade  of  silk-dyeing.  Josias  married  early  in 
life  ;  and  about  the  year  1682  he  emigrated,  with 
his  wife  and  three  children,  to  America,  on  ac- 
count of  the  persecutions  to  which  he  was  exposed 
for  his  dissenting  principles.  On  arriving  in 
New  England,  he  embraced  the  occupations  of 
soap-boiler  and  tallow-chandler,  of  which  busi- 
nesses he  previously  knew  nothing,  but  only  from 
their  being  at  the  time  the  likeliest  to  provide 
maintenance  for  his  increasing  family.  He  ap- 
pears to  have  been  a  man  of  great  penetration 
and  solid  judgment  ;  prudent,  active  and  frugal  ; 
and  although  kept  in  comparative  poverty  by  the 
expenses    of  his    numerous  family,  was  held  in 

3  (; 


great  esteem    by  his  townsmen.     In  no  respect 
was   his    practical  good   sense  more  conspicuous 
than  in  the  education  of  his  children  ;    and  his 
illustrious    son   frequently    alluded,   in   terms  of 
thankfulness   and  gratitude,  to  the  many  exem- 
plars- precepts   and   sound    moral   lessons   he  re- 
ceived while  under  the  paternal   roof.     The  fol- 
lowing passage  may  be    read  with    no  little  in- 
struction by  the  heads  and  members  of  all  fami- 
lies similarly  circumstanced.      ' '  He  was  fond  of 
having  at   his   table,  as  often   as  possible,  some 
friends,  or    well-informed    neighbors,   capable  of 
rational  conversation  ;  and  he  was  always  careful 
to  introduce    useful   or   ingenious    topics  of  dis- 
course, which  might  tend  to  form  the  minds  of 
his  children.     By  this  means   he  early  attracted 
our   attention    to    what   was   just,    prudent    and 
beneficial  in  the  conduct  of  life.     He  never  talked 
of  the  meats  which  appeared  on  the  table  ;  never 
discussed  whether  the}'  were  well  or  ill  dressed, 
of  a  good  or  bad  flavor,  high-seasoned  or  other- 
wise, preferable  or  inferior  to  this  or  that  dish  of  a 
similar  kind.    Thus  accustomed  from  my  infancy 
to  the  utmost  inattention  to  these  objects,  I  have 
since  been  perfectly  regardless  of  what  kind  of 
food  was  before  me  ;  and  I  pay  so  little  attention 
to  it  even  now  that  it  would  be  a  hard  matter  for 
me  to  recollect  a  few  hours  after  I  had  dined,  of 
what  my  dinner  had  consisted.     When  travelling, 
I  have  particularly  experienced  the  benefit  of  this 
habit  ;  for  it  has  often  happened  to  me  to  be  in 
company  with  persons,  who,  having  a  more  deli- 
cate, because  a  more  exercised  taste,  have  suffered 
in  many  cases  considerable  inconvenience  ;  while, 
as  to  myself,  I  have  had  nothing  to  desire."    Ben- 
jamin was  at  first  designed  to  be  a  clergyman,  and 
at  eight  years  of  age  was   put  to  the  grammar- 
school   with    that  view,  having    previously  been 
taught  to  read.     His   uncle  Benjamin,  who  had 
3) 


34 


THE  WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


likewise  emigrated,  encouraged  this  project.  This 
individual  appears  to  have  been  an  equally  eccen- 
tric and  ingenious  man.  He  cultivated  the  Muses 
with  a  success  that  gave  himself,  at  least,  entire 
satisfaction.  But  what  he  was  most  proud  of 
was  a  species  of  short-hand  of  his  own  inven- 
tion, wherewith  he  had  carried  off  from  the  con- 
venticles in  England  several  volumes  of  sermons 
whole  and  entire  ;  and  these  he  designed  for  his 
nephew's  stock  in  trade,  when  he  should  set  up 
as  preacher.  But  young  Franklin  had  not  been 
a  year  at  school  when  his  father  perceived  that 
his  circumstances  were  quite  inadequate  to  the 
expenses  necessary  to  complete  his  son's  educa- 
tion for  the  clerical  profession.  He  accordingly 
removed  him  from  the  more  learned  seminary,  and 
placed  him  under  a  humbler  teacher  of  reading 
and  writing  for  another  twelvemonth,  preparatory 
to  binding  him  to  some  handicraft  trade. 
Apprenticeship. 

When  his  term  at  school  was  expired,  being 
then  ten  years  of  age,  he  was  taken  home  to  assist 
his  father  in  his  business  ;  but  he  soon  testified 
such  repugnance  to  the  cutting  of  wicks  for  can- 
dles, running  errands,  waiting  in  the  shop,  with 
other  drudgery  of  the  same  nature,  that,  after  a 
tedious  and  ill-borne  trial  of  two  years,  his  father 
became  afraid  of  his  running  off  to  sea  (for  which 
he  confesses  to  diave  had  a  predilection),  as  an 
elder  brother  had  done,  and  resolved  to  put  him 
to  some  other  occupation.  After  much  delibera- 
tion, therefore,  he  was  sent  on  trial  for  a  few  days 
to  his  cousin  (a  son  of  Benjamin),  who  was  a  cut- 
ler ;  but  that  relative  being  desirous  of  a  larger 
apprenticeship-fee  than  his  uncle  could  spare, 
he  was  recalled.  His  brother  James,  a  short  time 
previous  to  this  period,  had  returned  from  Eng- 
land, whither  he  had  been  sent  to  learn  the  print- 
ing business,  and  set  up  a  press  and  types  on  his 
own  account  at  Boston.  To  him,  therefore,  after 
no  little  persuasion,  Benjamin  at  last  agreed  to 
become  an  apprentice,  and  he  was  indentured  ac- 
cordingly for  the  term  of  nine  years  ;  that  is,  until 
he  should  reach  the  age  of  twenty-one. 

The  choice  of  this  profession,  as  it  turned  out, 
was  a  lucky  one  ;  and  it  was  made  after  much 
careful  and  correct  observation  on  the  part  of  the 
parent.  He  had  watched  his  son's  increasing 
fondness  for  books,  and  thirst  for  information,  and 
that,  too,  of  a  solid  and  instructive  sort ;  and  he 
therefore  judiciously  resolved  to  place  him   in  a 


favorable  situation  for  gratifying  this  propensity 
in  the  youthful  mind  ;  while  he  would,  at  the 
same  time,  be  instructed  in  a  profession  by  which 
he  could  always  independently  maintain  himself 
in  whatever  quarter  his  fortunes  might  lead  him, 
within  the  bounds  of  the  civilized  world.  Frank- 
lin thus  speaks  of  his  early  and  insatiable  craving 
after  knowledge  : 

' '  From  my  earliest  years  I  had  been  passionately 
fond  of  reading,  and  I  laid  out  in  books  all  the 
money  I  could  procure.  I  was  particularly  pleased 
with  accounts  of  voyages.  My  first  acquisition 
was  Bunyan's  collection,  in  small  separate  vol- 
umes. These  I  aftenvards  sold,  in  order  to  buy 
an  historical  collection  by  R.  Burton,  which  con- 
sisted of  small  cheap  volumes,  amounting  in  all  to 
about  forty  or  fifty.  My  father's  little  library  was 
principally  made  up  of  books  of  practical  and 
polemical  theology.  I  read  the  greatest  part  of 
them.  There  was  also  among  my  father's  books 
'Plutarch's  Ljves,'  in  which  I  read  continually, 
and  still  regard  as  advantageously  employed  the 
time  devoted  to  them.  I  found,  besides,  a  work  of 
De  Foe,  entitled,  'An  Essay  on  Projects,'  from 
which,  perhaps,  I  derived  impressions  that  have 
since  influenced  some  of  the  principal  events  of 
my  life."  It  seems  to  have  been  lucky  for  him- 
self and  mankind  that  the  last-named  author's 
most  celebrated  work,  "  Robinson  Crusoe,"  did  not 
fall  into  his  hands  at  this  period. 

By  his  assiduity  Franklin  soon  attained  great 
proficiency  in  his  business,  and  became  very  ser- 
viceable to  his  brother.  At  the  same  time,  he 
formed  acquaintance  with  various  booksellers' 
apprentices,  by  whose  furtive  assistance  he  was 
enabled  to  extend  the  sphere  of  his  reading. 
This  gratification,  however,  was  for  the  most  part 
enjoyed  at  the  expense  of  his  natural  rest.  "  How 
often,"  says  he,  "has  it  happened  to  me  to  pass 
the  greater  part  of  the  night  in  reading  by  1113' 
bedside,  when  the  book  had  been  lent  me  in  the 
evening,  and  was  to  be  returned  the  next  morning, 
lest  it  might  be  missed  or  wanted  ! ' '  His  studious 
habits  and  intelligent  conversation  also  attracted 
the  notice  of  a  wealth}'  merchant  who  was  in  the 
habit  of  coming  about  the  office,  who  invited  him 
to  his  house  and  gave  him  the  use  of  an  excellent 
library. 

It  is  a  singular  peculiarity  of  all  minds  of  an 
active  and  aspiring  character,  that  they  uniformly 
endeavor   to  do  whatever  others  have  done,  and 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


35 


from  which  they  themselves  have  derived  enjoy- 
ment or  benefit.  Franklin,  from  the  delight  he 
took  in  the  perusal  of  books,  at  last  bethought 
him  of  trying  his  own  hand  at  composition  ;  and 
as  has  happened,  we  believe,  with  a  great  propor- 
tion of  literary  men  of  all  ages,  his  first  efforts 
were  of  a  poetical  nature.  His  brother,  having 
come  to  the  knowledge  of  his  attempts,  encour- 
aged him  to  proceed,  thinking  such  a  talent  might 
prove  useful  in  the  establishment.  At  the  sug- 
gestion of  the  latter,  therefore,  he  finished  two 
ballads,  which,  after  being  printed,  he  was  sent' 
round  the  town  to  sell :  and  one  of  them,  the 
subject  of  which  was  a  recent  affecting  shipwreck, 
had,  he  says,  a  prodigious  run.  But  his  father, 
having  heard  of  the  circumstance,  soon  let  down 
the  pegs  of  the  young  poet's  vanity,  by  analyzing 
his  verses  before  him  in  a  most  unmerciful 
style,  and  demonstrating,  as  Franklin  says,  what 
"wretched  stuff  they  really  were."  This  sharp 
lesson,  which  concluded  with  a  warning  that 
versifiers  were  almost  uniformly  beggars,  effectu- 
ally weaned  him  from  his  rhyming  propensities. 

Franklin  immediately  afterwards  betook  himself 
to  the  composition  of  prose,  and  the  first  oppor- 
tunity of  exercising  his  pen  and  his  faculties  in 
this  way  occurred  in  the  following  manner  :  He 
had  a  young  acquaintance  of  the  name  of  Collins, 
who  was  like  himself  passionately  fond  of  books, 
and  with  whom  he  had  frequent  and  long  argu- 
ments on  various  subjects.  In  narrating  this 
circumstance,  Franklin  comments,  in  passing,  on 
the  dangerous  consequences  of  acquiring  a  disputa- 
tious habit,  as  tending  to  generate  acrimony  and 
discord  in  society,  and  often  hatred  between  the 
best  of  friends.  He  dismisses  the  subject  with 
the  following  singular  enough  observation  :  "I 
have  since  remarked,  that  men  of  sense  seldom 
fall  into  this  error — lawyers,  fellows  of  universities, 
and  persons  of  every  profession  educated  at  Edin- 
burgh, excepted!"  But  to  proceed :  Franklin 
and  his  companion  having  as  usual  got  into  an 
argument  one  day,  which  was  maintained  on  both 
sides  with  equal  pertinacity,  they  parted  without 
bringing  it  to  a  termination,  and  as  they  were  to 
be  separated  for  some  time,  an  agreement  was 
made  that  they  should  carry  on  their  dispute  by 
letter.  This  was  accordingly  done  ;  when,  after 
the  interchange  of  several  epistles,  the  whole  cor- 
respondence happened  to  fall  into  the  hands  of 


Franklin's  father.  After  perusing  it  with  much 
interest,  his  natural  acuteness  and  good  sense  en- 
abled him  to  point  out  to  his  son  how  inferior  he 
was  to  his  adversary  in  elegance  of  expression, 
arrangement,  and  perspicuity.  Feeling  the  justice 
of  his  parent's  remarks,  he  forthwith  studied  most 
anxiously  to  improve  his  style  ;  and  the  plan  he 
adopted  for  this  purpose  is  equally  interesting  and 
instructive. 

"Amidst  these  resolves,"  he  says,  "an  odd 
volume  of  the  '  Spectator '  fell  into  my  hands.  This 
was  a  publication  I  had  never  seen.  I  bought  the 
volume,  and  read  it  again  and  again.  I  was  en- 
chanted with  it,  thought  the  style  excellent,  and 
wished  it  were  in  my  power  to  imitate  it.  With 
this  view  I  selected  some  of  the  papers,  made 
short  summaries  of  the  sense  of  each  period,  and 
put  them  for  a  few  days  aside.  I  then,  without 
looking  at  the  book,  endeavoured  to  restore  the 
essays  to  their  due  form,  and  to  express  each 
thought  at  length,  as  it  was  in  the  original,  em- 
ploying the  most  appropriate  words  that  occurred 
to  ray  mind.  I  afterwards  compared  my  Spectator 
with  the  original.  I  perceived  some  faults,  which 
I  corrected  ;  but  I  found  that  I  chiefly  wanted  a 
fund  of  words,  if  I  may  so  express  myself,  and  a 
facility  of  recollecting  and  employing  them,  which 
I  thought  I  should  by  that  time  have  acquired, 
had  I  continued  to  make  verses.  The  continual 
need  of  words  of  the  same  meaning,  but  of  dif- 
ferent lengths,  for  the  measure,  and  of  different 
sounds  for  the  rhyme,  would  have  obliged  me  to 
seek  for  a  variety  of  synonyms,  and  have  rendered 
me  master  of  them.  From  this  belief,  I  took 
some  of  the  tales  of  the  Spectator,  and  turned 
them  into  verse  ;  and  after  a  time,  when  I  had 
sufficiently  forgotten  them,  I  again  converted 
them  into  prose.  Sometimes,  also,  I  mingled  my 
summaries  together  ;  and,  a  few  weeks  afterwards, 
endeavoured  to  arrange  them  in  the  best  order, 
before  I  attempted  to  form  the  periods  and  com- 
plete the  essaj-s.  This  I  did  with  a  view  of  ac- 
quiring method  in  the  arrangement  of  my 
thoughts.  On  comparing  afterwards  my  per- 
formance with  the  original,  man}'  faults  were 
apparent,  which  I  corrected  ;  but  I  had  sometimes 
the  satisfaction  to  think,  that,  in  certain  particu- 
lars of  little  importance,  I  had  been  fortunate 
enough  to  improve  the  order  of  the  thought  or 
style ;    and  this  encouraged  me  to    hope  that   I 


36 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND    THE 


should  succeed  in  time  in  writing  decently  in  the 
English  language,  which  was  one  of  the  greatest 
objects  of  ui}-  ambition." 

But  it  was  not  only  by  such  rigorous  self- 
imposed  tasks  that  this  extraordinary  man,  even 
at  so  early  an  age,  endeavored  to  chasten  his 
mind,  and  make  ever}'  animal  propensity  subser- 
vient to  his  sense  of  duty.  He  also  began  to 
exercise  those  acts  of  personal  self-denial  which 
the  heyday  of  3-outh,  the  season  for  animal  enjoy- 
ment, feels  as  the  most  intolerable  of  all  restric- 
tions. Having  met  with  a  work  recommending  a 
vegetable  diet,  he  determined  to  adopt  it.  Find- 
ing, after  some  days'  trial,  that  he  was  ridiculed 
by  his  fellow-boarders  for  his  singularity,  he  pro- 
posed to  his  brother  to  take  the  half  of  what  was 
nowr  paid  by  that  relative  for  his  board,  and  there- 
with to  maintain  himself.  Xo  objection  was,  of 
course,  made  to  such  an  arrangement ;  and  he 
soon  found  that  of  what  he  received  he  was 
able  to  save  one-half.  "This,"  says  he,  "was 
a  new  fund  for  the  purchase  of  books,  and 
other  advantages  resulted  to  me  from  the  plan. 
When  my  brother  and  his  workmen  left  the 
printing-house  to  go  to  dinner,  I  remained 
behind  ;  and  despatching  my  frugal  meal,  which 
frequently  consisted  of  a  biscuit  onl)',  or  a  slice  of 
bread  and  a  bunch  of  raisins,  or  a  bun  from  the 
pastry-cook's,  with  a  glass  of  water,  I  had  the 
rest  of  the  time  till  their  return  for  study ;  and 
my  progress  therein  was  proportioned  to  that 
clearness  of  ideas  and  quickness  of  conception 
which  are  the  fruits  of  temperance  in  eating  and 
drinking." 

About  three  years  after  Franklin  went  to  his 
apprenticeship,  that  is  to  say,  172 1,  his  brother 
began  to  print  a  newspaper,  the  second  that  was 
established  in  America,  which  he  called  the  ' '  Xew 
England  Courant :"  the  one  previously  established 
was  the  ' '  Boston  News  Fetter. ' '  The  new  publica- 
tion brought  the  most  of  the  literati  of  Boston 
about  the  printing  office,  man}-  of  whom  were 
contributors  ;  and  Franklin  frequently  heard  them 
conversing  about  the  various  articles  that  ap- 
peared in  its  columns,  and  the  approbation  with 
which  particular  ones  were  received.  He  became 
ambitious  to  participate  in  this  sort  of  fame  ;  and 
having  written  out  a  paper,  in  a  disguised  hand, 
he  slipped  it  under  the  door  of  the  printing-office, 
where  it  was  found  next  morning,  and  submitted, 
as   usual,  to    the  critics    when    they    assembled. 


' '  They  read  it, ' '  he  says  ;  ' '  commented  on  it  in  my 
hearing  ;  and  I  had  the  exquisite  pleasure  to  find 
that  it  met  with  their  approbation  ;  and  that  in 
the  various  conjectures  they  made  respecting  the 
author,  110  one  was  mentioned  who  did  not  enjoy 
a  high  reputation  in  the  country  for  talent  and 
genius.  I  now  supposed  myself  fortunate  in  my 
judges,  and  began  to  suspect  that  the}-  were  not 
such  excellent  writers  as  I  had  hitherto  supposed 
them.  Be  this  as  it  may,  encouraged  by  this  little 
adventure,  I  wrote  and  sent  to  press,  in  the  same 
way,  main-  other  pieces  which  were  equally  ap- 
proved— keeping  the  secret  till  my  slender  stock 
of  information  and  knowledge  for  such  perfor- 
mances was  pretty  completely  exhausted."  He 
then  discovered  himself,  and  had  the  satisfac- 
tion of  finding  he  was  treated  with  much  more 
respect  by  his  brother  and  his  friends  than  here- 
tofore. 

The  two  brothers,  however,  lived  together  on 
very  disagreeable  terms,  in  consequence  of  the 
hast}-  and  overbearing  temper  of  the  elder ;  and 
Benjamin  anxiously  longed  for  an  opportunity  of 
separating  from  him.  This  at  last  occurred.  His 
brother  was  apprehended  and  imprisoned  for  some 
political  article  which  offended  the  local  govern- 
ment, and  upon  his  liberation  was  prohibited  from 
ever  printing  his  newspaper  again.  It  was  there- 
fore determined  that  it  should  be  published  in 
Benjamin's  name,  who  had  managed  it  during  his 
brother's  confinement  with  great  spirit  and  ability. 
To  avoid  having  it  said  that  the  elder  brother  was 
onl}-  screening  himself  behind  one  of  his  appren- 
tices, Benjamin's  indenture  was  delivered  up  to 
him  discharged,  and  private  indentures  entered 
into  for  the  remainder  of  his  time.  This  under- 
hand arrangement  was  proceeded  in  for  several 
mouths,  the  paper  continuing  to  be  printed  in 
Benjamin's  name  ;  but  his  brother  having  one  day 
again  broken  out  into  one  of  his  violent  fits  of 
passion,  and  struck  him,  he  availed  himself  of 
his  discharged  indentures,  well  knowing  that  the 
others  would  never  be  produced  against  him,  and 
gave  up  his  employment.  Franklin  afterwards 
regretted  his  having  taken  so  unfair  an  advantage 
of  his  brother's  situation,  and  regarded  it  as  one 
of  the  first  errata  of  his  life.  His  brother  felt  so 
exasperated  on  the  occasion,  that  he  went  round 
to  all  the  printing-offices,  and  represented  Benjamin 
in  such  a  light  that  they  each  in  turn  refused  his 
services. 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


37 


Proceeds    to    Philadelphia. 

Finding  he  could  get  no  employment  in  Boston, 
as  well  as  that  he  was  regarded  with  dislike  by 
the  government,  he  resolved  to  proceed  to  New 
York,  the  nearest  town  in  which  there  was  a 
printing-office.  To  raise  sufficient  funds  for  this 
purpose,  he  sold  part  of  his  library ;  and  having 
eluded  the  vigilance  of  his  parents,  who  were  op- 
posed to  his  intention,  he  secretly  got  on  board  of 
a  vessel,  and  landed  at  New  York  on  the  third 
day  after  sailing. 

Thus,  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  Franklin  found 
himself  three  hundred  miles  from  his  native  place, 
from  which  he  was  in  some  sort  a  runaway,  with- 
out a  friend,  or  recommendation  to  any  one,  and 
with  very  little  money  in  his  pocket.  To  com- 
plete his  dilemma,  he  found,  on  applying,  that 
the  only  printer  in  the  town  could  give  him  no 
employment.  That  person,  however,  recom- 
mended him  to  go  to  Philadelphia,  where  he  had 
a  son,  who,  he  thought,  would  give  him  work ; 
and  he  accordingly  set  off  for  that  place.  His 
journey  was  a  most  disastrous  one  both  by  water 
and  land,  and  he  frequently  regretted  leaving 
home  so  rashly.  He  reached  his  destination  at 
last,  however,  and  in  a  plight  which  certainly  did 
not  bode  over- auspiciously  for  his  future  fortunes. 
His  own  graphic  description  of  his  condition  and 
appearance,  on  his  first  entrance  into  Philadelphia, 
is  at  once  interesting  and  amusing : — 

"I  have  entered  into  the  particulars  of  my 
voyage,  and  shall  in  like  manner  describe  my  first 
entrance  into  this  place,  that  you  may  be  able  to 
compare  beginnings  so  unlikely  with  the  figure  I 
have  since  made.  I  was  in  my  working  dress,  my 
best  clothes  being  to  come  by  sea.  I  was  covered 
with  dirt ;  my  pockets  were  filled  with  shirts  and 
stockings  ;  I  was  unacquainted  with  a  single  soul 
in  the  place,  and  knew  not  where  to  seek  a  lodg- 
ing. Fatigued  with  walking,  rowing,  and  having 
passed  the  night  without  sleep,  I  was  extremely 
hungry,  and  all  my  money  consisted  of  a  Dutch 
dollar,  and  about  a  shilling's  worth  of  coppers, 
which  I  gave  to  the  boatmen  for  my  passage.  At 
first  they  refused  it  because  I  had  rowed,  but  I 
insisted  on  them  taking  it.  A  man  is  sometimes 
more  generous  when  he  has  little  than  when  he 
has  much  money,  probably  because  he  is,  in  the 
first  place,  desirous  of  concealing  his  poverty. 

' '  I  walked  towards  the  top  of  the  street,  looking 
eagerly  on  both  sides,  till  I  came  to  Market  street, 


where  I  met  a  child  with  a  loaf  of  bread.     I  in- 
quired where  he  had  bought  it,  and  went  straight 
to  the  baker's  shop  which  he  pointed  out  to  me. 
I  asked  for  some  biscuits,  expecting  to  find  such 
as  we  had  in  Boston ;    but  they  made,  it  seems, 
none  of  that  sort  at  Philadelphia.      I  then  asked 
for  a  threepenny  loaf;    they  made   no   loaves  of 
that  price.     I  then  desired  him  to  let  me  have 
threepence  worth  of  bread,  of  some  kind  or  other. 
He  gave  me  three  large  rolls.     I  was  surprised  at 
receiving  so  much.      I  took  them,  however,  and 
having  no  room  in  my  pockets,  I  walked  on,  with 
a  roll  under  each  arm,  eating  the  third.      In  this 
manner  I  went  through  Market  street  to  Fourth 
street,   and  passed  the  house  of  Mr.  Read,   the 
father  of  my  future  wife.      She  was  standing  at 
the  door,  observed  me,  and  thought  with  reason 
that  I  made  a  very  singular  and  grotesque  appear- 
ance.    I  then  turned  the  corner,  and  went  through 
Chestnut  street,  eating  my  roll  all  the  way  ;  and, 
having  made  this  round,  I  found  myself  again  on 
Market  street  wharf,  near  the  boat  on  which  I  ar- 
rived.     I  stepped  into  it  to  take  a  draught  of  the 
river  water  ;  and  finding  myself  satisfied  with  my 
first  roll,  I  gave  the  other  two  to  a  woman  and 
her  child  who  had  come  down  the  river  with  us 
in    the   boat,    and  was  waiting   to   continue   her 
journey.     Thus  refreshed,  I  regained  the  street, 
which  was  now  full   of  well-dressed   people   all 
going  the  same  way.      I  joined   them,  and  was 
thus  led  to  a  Quakers'  meeting-house,  near  the 
market-place.     I  sat  down  with  the  rest,  and  after 
looking  round  me  for  some  time,  hearing  nothing 
said,  and   being    drowsy    from    my   last   night's 
labor  and  want  of  rest,  I  fell  into  a  sound  sleep. 
In  this  state    I  continued  till    the  assembly  dis- 
persed, when  one  of  the  congregation  had  the  good- 
ness to  wake  me.      This  was  consequently  the  first 
house  I  entered,  or  in  which  I  slept  in  Philadelphia. ' ' 
Having  with  some  difficulty  procured  a  lodging 
for  the  night,   he  next  morning  waited  on    Mr. 
Bradford,   the  printer  to  whom  he  had  been  di- 
rected.    That  individual  said  he  had  no  work  for 
him  at  present,  but  directed  him  to  a  brother  in 
trade  of  the  name  of  Keimer,  who,  upon  applica- 
tion, made  him   the  same  answer  ;  but,  after  con- 
sidering a  little,  set  him    to  put    an  old  press  to 
rights,  being  the  only  one  indeed  he  possessed  ; 
and  in  a  few  days  gave  him  regular  work.     Upon 
this,  Franklin  took  a  lodging  in  the  house  of  Mr. 
Read,  his  future  father-in-law. 


38 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


Franklin  had  been  some  months  at  Philadelphia, 
without  ever  writing  to  or  hearing  from  home,  and, 
as  he  says,  trying  to  forget  Boston  as  much  as  pos- 
sible, when  a  brother-in-law  of  his,  a  master  of  a 
vessel,  having  accidentally  heard  where  he  was, 
wrote  to  him,  pressing  his  return  home  in  the 
most  urgent  terms.  Franklin's  reply,  declining 
compliance  with  the  request,  happened  to  reach 
his  brother-in-law  when  the  latter  was  in  the 
company  of  Sir  William  Keith,  governor  of  the 
province  ;  and  the  composition  and  penmanship 
struck  him  as  so  much  superior  to  the  ordinary 
style  of  letter-writing,  that  he  showed  it  to  his 
excellency.  The  governor  was  no  less  pleased 
with  it,  and  expressed  the  utmost  surprise  when 
told  the  age  of  the  writer.  He  observed,  that  he 
must  be  a  young  man  of  promising  talents,  and 
said  that  if  he  would  set  up  business  on  his  own 
account  at  Philadelphia,  he  would  procure  him 
the  printing  of  all  the  public  papers,  and  do  him 
every  other  sendee  in  his  power.  Franklin  heard 
nothing  of  this  from  his  brother-in-law  at  the 
time  ;  but  one  day  while  he  and  Keimer  were  at 
work  in  the  office,  they  observed,  through  the 
window,  the  governor  and  another  gentleman  (who 
proved  to  be  Colonel  French  of  Newcastle,  in  the 
province  of  Delaware),  finely  dressed,  cross  the 
street,  and  come  directly  for  the  office,  where  they 
knocked  at  the  door.  Keimer  ran  down,  in  high 
expectation  of  this  being  a  visit  to  himself;  "  but 
the  governor  (says  Franklin)  inquired  for  me, 
came  up  stairs,  and  with  a  politeness  to  which 
I  had  not  at  all  been  accustomed,  paid  me  many 
compliments,  desired  to  be  acquainted  with  me, 
obligingly  reproached  me  for  not  having  made 
myself  known  to  him  on  my  arrival  in  town,  and 
wished  me  to  accompany  him  to  a  tavern,  where 
he  and  Colonel  French  were  going  to  taste  some 
excellent  Madeira  wine  !  I  was,  I  confess,  some- 
what surprised,  and  Keimer  was  thunderstruck. 
I  went,  however,  with  the  governor  and  Colonel 
French  to  a  tavern  at  the  corner  of  Third  street, 
where,  while  we  were  drinking  the  Madeira,  he 
proposed  to  me  to  establish  a  printing-house.  He 
set  forth  the  probabilities  of  success,  and  himself 
and  Colonel  French  assured  me  that  I  should  have 
their  protection  and  influence  in  obtaining  the 
printing  of  the  public  papers  for  both  govern- 
ments ;  and  as  I  appeared  to  doubt  whether  my 
father  would  assist  me  in  this  enterprise.  Sir 
William  said  that  he  would  give  me  a  letter  to 


him,  in  which  he  would  recommend  the  advan- 
tages of  the  scheme  in  a  light  which  he  had  no 
doubt  would  determine  him  to  agree  to  do  so.  It 
was  thus  concluded  that  I  should  return  to  Boston 
by  the  first  vessel,  with  the  letter  of  recommen- 
dation from  the  governor  to  ruy  father.  Mean- 
while, the  project  was  to  be  kept  secret,  and  I 
continued  to  work  for  Keimer  as  before.  The 
governor  subsequently  sent  for  me  every  now  and 
then  to  dine  with  him.  I  considered  this  a  very 
great  honor  ;  and  I  was  the  more  sensible  of  it, 
as  he  conversed  with  me  in  the  most  affable, 
friendly,  and  familiar  manner  imaginable." 

In  pursuance  of  the  above  arrangement,  Frank- 
lin set  out  on  his  return  homewards,  in  the  end  of 
April,  1724,  having  been  absent  about  seven 
months,  during  which  time  his  parents  and  re- 
lations had  heard  nothing  of  him  whatever,  his 
brother-in-law  never  having  written  to  inform 
them  where  he  was.  All  the  family,  with  the 
exception  of  his  brother  James,  were  delighted  to 
see  him  ;  and  not  the  less  so,  perhaps,  that  he 
was  apparelled  in  a  complete  new  suit  of  clothes, 
had  an  excellent  silver  watch,  and  about  five 
pounds  sterling  in  his  pocket.  His  father  was 
exceedingly  surprised  wdien  informed  of  the  object 
of  his  visit,  and  still  more  at  the  contents  of  Gov- 
ernor Keith's  epistle.  After  long  deliberation,  he 
came  to  the  resolution  of  refusing  compliance 
with  the  request,  on  account  of  his  son  being  too 
young  to  undertake  the  management  of  such  a 
speculation  ;  adding,  that  he  thought  the  gover- 
nor a  man  of  little  discretion  in  proposing  it.  He 
promised,  however,  when  his  son  had  attained  his 
twenty-first  year,  that  he  would  supply  him  with 
what  money  he  required  to  set  him  up  in  business, 
praising  him  highly,  at  the  same  time,  for  his  in- 
dustry and  good  conduct.  Franklin,  accordingly, 
was  necessitated  to  return  to  Philadelphia  with 
the  news  of  his  bad  success,  but  left  Boston  on 
this  occasion,  accompanied  by  the  blessings  of  his 
parents.  When  he  arrived  at  Philadelphia,  he 
immediately  waited  upon  the  governor,  and  com- 
municated the  result  of  his  journey.  Sir  William 
observed  that  his  father  was  "  too  prudent  ;"  but 
added,  "Since  he  will  not  do  it,  I  will  do  it  my- 
self." It  was  ultimately  arranged,  therefore,  that 
Franklin  should  proceed  personally  to  London,  to 
purchase  everything  necessary  for  the  proposed 
establishment,  for  the  expense  of  which  the  gov- 
ernor promised  him  a  letter  of  credit  to  the  extent 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


39 


of  j£ioo,  with  recommendations  to  various  people 
of  influence. 

Sails  for  England. 

It  had  been  arranged  that  Franklin  was  to  go 
to  England  in  the  regular  packet-ship  ;  and  as  the 
time  of  her  sailing  drew  near,  he  became  impor- 
tunate for  the  governor's  letters  of  credit  and 
recommendation,  but  the  latter  always  put  him 
off  under  various  pretences.  At  last,  when  the 
vessel  was  on  the  point  of  departing,  he  was  sent 
on  board,  under  the  assurance  that  Colonel  French 
would  bring  the  letters  to  him  immediately.  That 
gentleman  accordingly  came  on  board  with  a 
packet  of  dispatches  tied  together,  which  were 
put  into  the  captain's  bag,  and  Franklin  was  in- 
formed that  those  intended  for  him  were  tied  up 
with  the  rest,  and  would  be  delivered  to  him  be- 
fore landing  in  England.  When  they  arrived  in 
the  Thames,  accordingly,  the  captain  allowed  him 
to  search  the  bag,  but  Franklin  could  find  no 
letters  directed  either  to  himself  or  addressed  as  to 
his  care;  but  he  selected  six  or  seven,  which, 
from  the  directions  on  them,  he  conceived  to  be 
those  intended  for  his  service.  One  of  these  was 
to  the  king's  printer,  and  Franklin  accordingly 
waited  upon  that  gentleman  with  it ;  but  the  lat- 
ter had  no  sooner  opened  it,  than  he  exclaimed, 
' '  Oh,  this  is  from  Riddlesden  ! — (a  well-known 
rascally  attorney  at  Philadelphia)  ;  I  have  lately 
discovered  him  to  be  an  arrant  knave,  and  wish  to 
have  nothing  to  do  either  with  him  or  his  letters.' ' 
So  saying,  he  turned  on  his  heel,  and  resumed  his 
occupation.  In  short,  it  turned  out  that  none  of 
the  letters  were  from  the  governor ;  and  he  soon 
learned  from  a  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Denham, 
who  had  been  a  fellow-passenger  with  him,  and  to 
whom  he  explained  his  awkward  situation,  that 
the  governor  was  a  complete  cheat,  deceiving  peo- 
ple, from  vanity  and  a  love  of  self-consequence, 
with  promises  which  he  neither  intended  nor  was 
able  to  fulfil ;  and  laughed  at  the  idea  of  a  man 
giving  a  letter  of  credit  for  ,£100,  who  had  no 
credit  for  himself. 

Franklin's  situation  was  now  even  more  deso- 
late than  when  set  ashore,  ragged,  hungry,  and 
almost  penniless,  at  Philadelphia,  little  more  than 
a  twelvemonth  before.  But  the  heart  at  eighteen 
is  not  naturally  inclined  to  despond,  and  never 
was  one  less  so  than  Franklin's.  He  immediately 
applied  for  and  obtained  employment  in  the  office 
of  the  celebrated  Mr.  Palmer.    Among  other  books 


on  which  he  was  set  to  work  here  was  a  second 
edition  of  "  Wollaston's  Religion  of  Nature. " 
Conceiving  some  of  the  positions  assumed  in  it  to 
be  weak  or  erroneous,  he  composed  and  published 
a  small  metaphysical  treatise  in  refutation  of  them. 
This  pamphlet  acquired  him  considerable  credit 
with  his  master  as  a  man  of  talent;  but  that 
gentleman  reprobated,  with  the  utmost  abhorrence, 
the  doctrines  maintained  in  his  publication,  which 
were  completely  irreligious,  so  far  as  regarded  the 
Christian  faith,  or  aii}T  other  acknowledged  system 
of  belief.  Free-thinking,  however,  was  then  in 
fashion  among  the  higher  and  more  learned  classes, 
and  his  pamphlet  procured  him  the  countenance 
of  various  eminent  individuals ;  among  the  rest, 
of  Dr.  Mandeville,  author  of  the  "  Fable  of  the 
Bees,"  and  Dr.  Pembertou,  Sir  Isaac  Newton's 
friend.  He  was  likewise  waited  upon  by  Sir 
Hans  Sloane,  who  had  been  informed  of  his 
bringing  some  curiosities  with  him  from  America ; 
among  others,  a  purse  of  asbestos — a  natural  sub- 
stance which  resists  the  action  of  fire,  and  then 
very  little  known — for  which  he  paid  Franklin  a 
high  price.  From  Mr.  Palmer's  office  he  removed 
to  Mr.  Watt's,  for  the  consideration  of  a  higher 
wage.  Here  he  gave  a  striking  proof  of  that 
resolute  adherence  to  temperance,  industry,  and 
frugality,  which  were  among  the  leading  features 
of  his  character.  While  Mr.  Watt's  other  work- 
men spent  generallj-  five  or  six  shillings  a  week 
on  beer,  which  was  brought  into  the  office  to  them 
during  the  day,  he  drank  nothing  but  water ;  and 
they  were  surprised  to  see  that  he  was  much 
stronger  than  any  of  them,  while  he  himself  had 
the  additional  comfort  and  satisfaction  of  being 
always  clear-headed.  At  first  they  ridiculed  his 
abstinence,  and  conferred  upon  him  the  sobri- 
quet of  the  American  Aquatic;  but  as  his  charac- 
ter rose  among  them,  his  example,  he  says, 
' '  prevailed  with  several  of  them  to  renounce  their 
abominable  breakfast  of  bread  and  cheese,  with 
beer ;  and  they  procured,  like  me,  from  a  neigh- 
boring house,  a  good  basin  of  warm  gruel,  in 
which  was  a  small  slice  of  butter,  with  toasted 
bread  and  nutmeg.  This  was  a  much  better 
breakfast,  which  did  not  cost  more  than  a  pint  of 
beer,  namely,  three  halfpence,  and  at  the  same 
time  preserved  the  head  clearer."  His  assiduous 
application  to  business,  at  the  same  time,  together 
with  remarkable  quickness  in  composing  (setting 
up  the  types),  recommended  him  to  his  employer, 


40 


THE  WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


and  procured  him  all  the  most  urgent  and  best- 
paid  work :  so  that,  with  his  frugal  mode  of  living, 
he  quickly  laid  up  money. 

Returns  to  America. 

After  having  been  about  eighteen  months  in 
London,  much  to  his  advantage  in  every  respect — 
for,  besides  becoming  more  proficient  in  his  busi- 
ness, he  had  stuck  to  his  books  as  seduloush-  as 
ever,  even  although  he  frequently  went  to  the 
play,  made  little  pleasure  excursions,  and  mingled 
a  good  deal  in  society — he  was  about  to  set  out  on 
a  tour  through  Europe,  with  a  young  intelligent 
fellow- workman  (designing  to  maintain  themselves 
during  their  pilgrimage  by  means  of  their  calling), 
when  he  accidentally  met  with  Mr.  Denham, 
before  noticed  as  being  his  fellow-passenger  from 
America.  That  gentleman  was  on  the  eve  of 
returning  to  Philadelphia,  to  open  a  merchant's 
store,  and  offered  Franklin  the  situation  of  his 
clerk,  with  a  salary  of  ^50  per  annum.  This  sum 
was  less  than  he  was  making  as  a  compositor ;  but 
an  anxious  desire  to  revisit  his  native  country  in- 
duced him  to  accept  of  it.  They  set  sail  accord- 
ingly— Franklin  now  supposing  that  he  had  relin- 
quished the  composing-stick  for  ever — and  arrived 
at  Philadelphia  on  the  nth  of  October,  1726. 
Upon  his  arrival,  he  found  that  his  old  acquaint- 
ance, the  governor,  had  been  supplanted  in  his 
office,  and  was  held  in  general  contempt.  They 
met  several  times,  but  no  allusion  was  ever  made 
by  Franklin  to  the  disgraceful  imposture  the  other 
had  practised  upon  him. 

Franklin's  new  employer  had  only  been  in  busi- 
ness for  a  few  months,  when  both  were  seized  at 
the  same  time  with  a  violent  disorder,  which 
carried  off"  the  master  in  a  few  days,  and  brought 
the  clerk  to  the  brink  of  the  grave.  On  his  re- 
covery, being  thus  once  more  left  destitute,  he  was 
fain  to  accept  employment  as  a  printer  from  his 
old  master  Keimer,  who  was  now  somewhat  better 
off  in  the  world,  but  still  utterly  ignorant  of  his 
profession.  The  whole  charge  of  the  office,  with 
that  of  instructing  four  or  five  ignorant  appren- 
tices, devolved  on  Franklin.  "I  also,"  says  he, 
"upon  occasion,  engraved  various  ornaments, 
made  ink,  gave  an  eye  to  the  shop — in  short,  I 
was,  in  every  respect,  the  factotum."  But  he  like- 
wise, at  this  time,  gave  another  remarkable  in- 
stance of  his  versatile  ingenuity. 

"Our  press,"  says  he,  "was  frequently  in  want 
of  the  necessary  quantity  of  letter,  and  there  was 


no  such  trade  as  that  of  letter-founder  in  America. 
I  had  seen  the  practice  of  this  art  at  the  house  of 
James,  in  London,  but  had  at  the  time  paid  it  very 
little  attention.  I,  however,  contrived  to  fabricate 
a  mould.  I  made  use  of  such  letters  as  we  had 
for  punches,  founded  new  letters  of  lead  in  ma- 
trices of  clay ;  and  thus  supplied,  in  a  tolerable 
manner,  the  wants  that  were  most  pressing." 
Franklin's  inventive  mind  would  seem  here  to 
have  obtained  a  distant  glimpse  of  the  principle 
of  stereotyping ,  which  has  since  been  carried  to 
such  a  height  of  usefulness  and  perfection. 

Keimer  having  engaged  Franklin  solely  with 
the  view  of  having  his  apprentices  so  far  initiated 
in  the  art  as  that  he  could  dispense  with  their 
instructor's  services,  took  the  first  occasion  to 
quarrel  with  him  when  he  thought  he  had  suffi- 
ciently attained  his  object.  Upon  their  separation, 
one  of  Keimer' s  apprentices,  named  Meredith, 
who,  like  all  the  others,  had  conceived  a  great 
veneration  for  Franklin,  proposed  that  they  should 
enter  into  partnership  together — Meredith's  friends 
undertaking  to  furnish  the  capital  necessary  for 
purchasing  the  materials,  etc.  This  offer  was  too 
advantageous  to  be  refused,  and  types,  press,  etc., 
were  forthwith  commissioned  from  London ;  but 
while  preparing  to  put  their  plan  into  execution, 
Franklin  was  induced,  during  the  interval,  to 
return  again  to  Keimer,  at  the  urgent  solicitation 
of  the  latter.  The  motive  for  this  humble  en- 
treaty was  that  individual's  having  taken  a  con- 
tract for  the  printing  of  some  paper-money  for  the 
State  of  New  Jersey,  requiring  a  variety  of  new 
cuts  and  types,  which  he  knew  well  nobody  in 
that  place  but  Franklin  could  supply.  This  also 
presents  us  with  a  very  striking  instance  of  Frank- 
lin's remarkable  gift  of  invention. 

' '  To  execute  the  order, ' '  says  he,  "I  constructed 
a  copperplate  printing-press — the  first  that  had 
been  seen  in  the  country.  I  engraved  various 
ornaments  and  vignettes  for  the  bills,  and  we 
repaired  to  Burlington  together,  where  I  executed 
the  whole  to  the  general  satisfaction,  and  he 
(Keimer)  received  a  sum  of  money  for  this  work 
which  enabled  him  to  keep  his  head  above  water 
for  a  considerable  time  longer. 

At  Burlington,  Franklin  formed  acquaintance 
with  all  the  principal  personages  of  the  province, 
who  were  attracted  by  his  superior  abilities  and 
intelligence.  Among  these  was  the  inspector- 
general,    Isaac    Decon,    "who,"    says    Franklin, 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


41 


"was  a  shrewd  and  subtle  old  man.  He  told  me 
that  his  first  employment  had  been  that  of  carry- 
ing clay  to  the  briekmakers ;  that  he  did  not  learn 
to  write  till  he  was  somewhat  advanced  in  life ; 
that  he  was  afterwards  employed  as  underling  to 
a  surveyor,  who  taught  him  his  trade ;  and  that, 
by  industry,  he  had  at  last  acquired  a  competent 
fortune.  '  I  foresee, '  said  he,  '  that  you  will  soon 
supplant  this  man  (speaking  of  Keimer),  and  get 
a  fortune  in  the  business  at  Philadelphia.'  He 
was  wholly  ignorant  at  the  time  of  my  intention 
of  establishing  myself  there,  or  anywhere  else. ' ' 
Enters  into  Business. 
Franklin  had  scarcely  returned  from  Burlington 
when  the  types  commissioned  for  himself  and 
Meredith,  from  L,ondon,  arrived;  and  having 
settled  matters  with  Keimer,  the  partners  imme- 
diately took  a  house,  and  commenced  business. 
They  were  in  the  act  of  opening  up  their  pack- 
ages, when  a  countryman  came  in  to  have  a  job 
done  ;  and  as  all  their  cash  had  been  expended  in 
their  various  purchases,  "this  countryman's  five 
shillings,"  says  Franklin,  "being  our  first-fruits, 
and  coming  so  seasonably,  gave  me  more  pleasure 
than  anj-  crown  I  have  since  earned."  A  number 
of  young  men  having,  during  the  preceding  year, 
formed  themselves,  at  Franklin's  suggestion,  into 
a  weekly  club  for  the  purpose  of  mutual  improve- 
ment, they  were  so  well  pleased  with  the  benefi- 
cial results  the}-  experienced  from  their  meetings, 
that,  when  the  originator  of  their  society  set  up  in 
business,  every  one  exerted  himself  more  than 
another  to  procure  him  employment.  One  of  them 
obtained  from  the  Quakers  the  printing  of  forty 
sheets  of  a  history  of  that  sect,  then  preparing  at 
the  expense  of  the  body.  "Upon  these,"  says 
Franklin,  "we  worked  exceeding  hard,  for  the 
price  was  very  low.  It  was  in  folio,  upon  pro 
patria  paper,  and  in  the  pica  letter,  with  heavy 
notes  in  the  smallest  type.  I  composed  a  sheet  a 
day,  and  Meredith  put  it  to  press.  It  was  fre- 
quently eleven  o'clock  at  night,  sometimes  later, 
before  I  had  finished  my  distribution  for  the  next 
day's  task;  for  the  other  little  jobs  that  came  in 
kept  us  back  in  this  work  ;  but  I  was  so  deter- 
mined to  compose  a  sheet  a  day,  that  one  evening, 
when  my  form  was  imposed,  and  my  day's  work, 
as  I  thought,  at  an  end,  an  accident  broke  the 
form,  and  deranged  two  complete  folio  pages.  I 
immediately  distributed  and  composed  them  anew 
before  I  went  to  bed."     This  unwearied  industry, 


which  soon  became  known,  acquired  Franklin 
great  reputation  and  credit  among  his  townsmen, 
and  business  began  rapidly  to  flow  in  upon  them. 

Starts  a  Newspaper. 
The  establishment  and  management  of  a  news- 
paper seems  to  have  all  along  been  a  favorite 
project  with  Franklin  ;  probably  because,  from  his 
former  experience  in  it,  and  the  consciousness  of 
his  powers  of  writing,  he  felt  himself  so  well 
adapted  for  the  task.  The  partners  soon  found 
themselves  in  circumstances  to  enable  them  to 
make  the  trial ;  but  Franklin  having  incautiously 
divulged  their  intention  to  a  third  person,  that 
individual  informed  their  old  master  Keimer  of  the 
fact,  who  immediately  took  steps  to  anticipate 
them,  and  issued  a  prospectus  of  a  paper  of  his 
own.  The  manner  in  which  Franklin  met  and 
defeated  this  treachery  is  exceedingly  characteris- 
tic. There  was  another  paper  published  in  Phila- 
delphia by  Mr.  Bradford,  which  had  been  in 
existence  for  some  years,  but  was  such  a  miserable 
affair,  that  it  only  preserved  its  vitality  because  no 
other  arose  to  knock  it  on  the  head.  In  order  to 
keep  down  Keimer' s  publication,  however,  Frank- 
lin saw  the  policy  of  supporting  the  old  one  until 
prepared  to  start  his  own.  Ha  thereupon  set  about 
writing  a  series  of  amusing  articles  for  it,  which 
the  publisher,  Bradford,  was  of  course  very  glad 
to  insert  ' '  By  this  means, ' '  says  Franklin,  ' '  the 
attention  of  the  public  was  kept  fixed  on  that 
paper,  and  Keimer' s  proposals,  which  we  bur- 
lesqued and  ridiculed,  were  disregarded.  He  began 
his  paper,  however  ;  and  after  continuing  it  for 
nine  months,  having  at  most  not  more  than  ninety 
subscribers,  he  offered  it  to  me  for  a  mere  trifle.  I 
had  for  some  time  been  prepared  for  it ;  I  there- 
fore instantly  took  it  upon  myself,  and  in  a  few 
years  it  proved  very  profitable  to  me. ' '  In  fact, 
it  obtained  notoriety  and  applause  at  the  very  first 
number,  in  consequence  of  some  observations 
therein  by  Franklin,  on  an  important  colonial 
question  ;  and  various  members  of  Assembly  ex- 
erted themselves  so  well  in  his  behalf,  that  the 
printing  of  the  House  was  speedily  transferred 
from  Bradford  to  his  two  young  rivals.  In  the 
management  of  his  newspaper,  Franklin  pursued 
a  system  of  unflinching  integrity.  He  steadfastly 
refused  to  give  admission  into  his  columns  of  any 
article  containing  personal  abuse  of  particular  in- 
dividuals. Whenever  he  was  requested  to  pub- 
lish anything  of  this  sort,  his  answer  was,  that  he 


42 


THE    WONDERFUL,  THE    CURIOUS,  AND    THE 


would  print  the  piece  by  itself  and  give  the  author 
as  many  copies  for  his  own  distribution  as  he 
wished.  He  very  wisely  considered  that  his  sub- 
scribers expected  him  to  furnish  them  with  useful 
and  entertaining  information,  and  not  with  per- 
sonal slander  or  private  discussions  with  which 
they  had  no  concern. 

Commences    Business  by  Himself. 

Luckily  for  Franklin,  almost  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  newspaper,  an  opportunity  occurred 
of  getting  rid  of  his  partner  Meredith,  who  had 
become  an  idle,  drunken  fellow,  and  had  all  along 
been  of  comparatively  little  use  in  the  concern. 
Meredith's  father  failed  to  implement  the  bargain 
for  advancing  the  necessary  capital  to  pa}'  the  de- 
mands of  the  paper-merchant,  and  other  expenses 
necessarily  attending  their  speculation,  when  they 
became  due.  A  suit  was  accordingly  instituted 
against  the  partners  ;  and  as  Meredith's  father 
declared  his  inability  to  pay  the  amount  of  the 
claims  upon  them,  the  sou  offered  to  relinquish 
the  whole  concern  into  Franklin's  hands,  on  con- 
dition that  the  latter  would  take  upon  him  the 
debts  of  the  company,  repay  his  father  what  he 
had  ahead}'  advanced,  settle  his  own  little  per- 
sonal debts,  and  give  him  thirty  pounds  and  a  new 
saddle  !  By  the  kindness  of  two  friends,  who,  un- 
known to  each  other,  came  forward  simultaneously 
and  unasked  to  his  assistance,  Franklin  was  en- 
abled to  accept  the  offer.  The  agreement  was 
carried  into  effect,  and  thus  do  we  find  this  extra- 
ordinary man,  at  the  age  of  twenty-four,  and  in 
the  place  where  he  had  arrived  penniless  only 
seven  years  before,  settled  down  in  business,  with 
a  thriving  trade,  proprietor  of  an  extensively  cir- 
culated newspaper,  and  a  firmly  established  repu- 
tation of  no  ordinary  kind.  All  this  success, 
however,  the  result  of  his  own  good  conduct, 
perseverance,  and  frugality,  had  no  undue  effect 
on  his  well-regulated  mind,  or  could  induce  him 
to  assume  those  airs  of  arrogant  superiority  and 
pretension,  which  have  but  too  frequently  blem- 
ished the  character  of  those  who  have  praise- 
worthily  achieved  their  own  elevation  in  society. 
On  the  contrary,  he  dressed  more  plainly,  and 
deported  himself  more  humbly  than  ever  ;  and  to 
show  that  he  was  not  above  his  business,  he 
sometimes  wheeled  home  on  a  barrow,  with  his 
own  hands,  the  paper  which  he  had  purchased  at 
the  stores. 

Soon  after  getting  the  whole  printing  and  news- 


paper concern  into  his  hands,  there  was  an  outcry 
among  the  people  for  a  new  emission  of  paper 
money.  Franklin  took  up  the  cause,  and  by  his 
arguments  in  a  pamphlet  which  he  published  on 
the  subject,  contributed  so  greatly  to  the  success 
of  the  proposal,  and  obtained  himself  so  much 
popularity,  that  upon  its  being  resolved  to  issue 
the  notes,  Franklin  was  selected  to  print  them. 
He  then  opened  a  stationer's  shop,  and  from  his 
success  in  business,  began  gradually  to  pay  off  his 
debts.  Meanwhile,  his  old  master  Keimer  went 
fast  to  ruin,  and  with  the  exception  of  old  Mr. 
Bradford,  who  was  rich,  and  did  not  care  for  busi- 
ness, he  was  the  only  printer  in  the  place.  He 
shortly  afterwards  married  Miss  Read,  the  lady 
named  in  a  former  part  of  this  memoir.  Frank- 
lin's behavior  to  this  young  lady  had  not  been 
altogether  blameless.  Previous  to  his  sailing  for 
England,  he  had  exchanged  pledges  of  affection 
with  her  ;  yet,  all  the  while  he  was  away,  he  only 
sent  her  one  letter.  Her  friends  and  herself  con- 
cluding that  he  either  never  meant  to  return,  or 
that  he  wished  to  drop  connection  with  her,  she 
was  induced  to  accept  the  hand  of  another  suitor, 
and  on  his  return  to  America  Franklin  found  her 
married — an  event  that  seems  to  have  given  him 
extremely  little  uneasiness.  The  lady's  husband 
proved  a  great  rogue,  deserted  her,  and  it  was  sub- 
sequently ascertained  that  he  had  still  a  former 
wife  living.  After  being  established  in  business, 
and  rising  in  the  world,  the  intimacy  between 
Franklin  and  her  family  was  renewed,  and  it  was 
not  long  ere,  despite  her  dubious  situation,  they 
hazarded  a  fulfilment  of  their  early  vows.  The 
lady  was  about  Franklin's  own  age,  and  proved, 
according  to  his  own  testimony,  "an  honor  and  a 
blessing  to  him." 

We  now  find  him,  at  the  early  age  of  twenty- 
five  or  twenty-six,  fairly  embarked  in  life  as  a 
tradesman,  citizen,  and  a  lover  of  literary  and 
scientific  pursuits.  His  first  consideration  was 
scrupulous  attention  to  business  and  to  his  family. 
He  took  care,  he  says,  not  only  to  be  really  indus- 
trious and  frugal,  but  also  to  avoid  even-  appear- 
ance to  the  contrary — was  plainly  dressed,  and  was 
never  seen  in  any  place  of  amusement  ;  never  went 
a-fishing  or  hunting  ;  his  only  relaxation  being  in 
a  game  of  chess,  of  which  he  was  very  fond.  He 
devoted  the  greater  part  of  his  leisure  time  to  self- 
examination  and  improvement.  On  instituting  a 
rigorous  examination  into  his  conduct  and  charac- 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


43 


ter,  he  found  that  he  possessed  many  faults,  which 
he  resolved  upon  amending ;  he  even  conceived 
the  bold  idea  of  seeking  to  attain  moral  perfection. 
With  the  view  of  carrying  this  project  into  execu- 
tion he  fell  upon  the  device  of  methodizing  his 
time  during  the  twent3_-four  hours  of  every  day, 
and  of  laying  down  certain  rules  by  which  he 
should  regulate  his  conduct  and  sentiments.  He 
rose  at  5  in  the  morning  ;  the  next  three  hours 
he  appropriated  to  devotional  exercise,  study, 
cleaning  of  the  person,  and  breakfast.  From  8  to 
12  he  was  at  work.  From  12  to  2  he  read,  did  any 
desultory  duties,  and  dined.  From  2  till  5  he  was 
again  at  work.  From  6  to  10,  he  devoted  to  read- 
ing, conversation,  intercourse  with  his  family,  and 
supper  ;  and  from  10  to  4  or  5  in  the  morning,  to 
sleep  ;  after  which  he  arose  and  pursued  the  same 
routine  as  before.  We  thus  see  that  early  rising 
was  a  leading  feature  in  his  habits  of  life,  and  to 
this  alone  he  doubtless  owed  much  of  his  success. 

Of  Franklin's  intercourse  with  his  family  little 
has  been  made  known,  though  it  is  ascertained, 
by  a  few  scattered  hints  in  his  writings,  that  he 
was  an  affectionate  husband  and  father,  and  placed 
much  of  his  happiness  in  home.  In  his  household 
affairs  the  most  exact  economy  prevailed,  and,  for 
several  years  after  his  marriage,  his  breakfast  con- 
sisted simply  of  bread  and  milk,  which  he  ate 
from  a  twopenny  earthenware  porringer  with  a 
pewter  spoon.  Fortunately,  his  wife  was  as  much 
disposed  to  be  industrious  as  he  was  ;  she  assisted 
him  in  his  business,  folded  the  sheets  of  books 
which  he  printed,  kept  his  shop,  and  executed 
other  humble  but  useful  duties.  By  following 
this  industrious  and  econ6mical  plan  of  living,  they 
gradually  accumulated  wealth,  and  were  enabled 
to  possess  comforts  and  luxuries  which  were  at 
first  beyond  their  reach.  Still,  Franklin  was  not 
puffed  up  by  prosperity,  but  continued  to  live  in  a 
style  of  simplicity  agreeably  to  the  notions  he  had 
formed  at  the  outset  of  his  career. 

In  conducting  his  business,  he  happily  united 
the  occupation  of  a  printer  with  the  profession  of 
an  author,  and  thus  became  the  publisher  of  his 
own  literary  productions.  No  large  work,  how- 
ever, was  given  by  him  to  the  world.  His  writings 
were  chiefly  of  a  minor  character,  such  as  de- 
tached pamphlets  on  subjects  of  local  import,  and 
short  essays  ;  and  he  did  not,  as  it  appears,  write 
much  that  has  been  thought  worthy  of  republica- 
tion in  a  succeeding  age.     His  newspaper  was  the 


"Pennsylvania  Gazette,"  which  had  been  started 
by  Keimer  in  172S,  and  which,  after  about  a 
twelvemonth's  mismanagement,  had  come  into  the 
possession  of  Franklin  and  Hugh  Meredith.  By 
Franklin's  ingenuity,  the  paper  rose  in  general 
estimation. 

As  Franklin  advanced  in  worldly  prosperity,  he 
endeavored  to  make  his  personal  acquirements 
keep  pace  with  his  upward  progress  in  society  ; 
and  among  other  accomplishments,  applied  him- 
self sedulously  to  the  stud}*  of  the  dead  and 
modern  languages,  of  which,  besides  his  native 
tongue,  he  as  yet  scarcely  knew  anything.  The 
following  is  his  own  account  of  his  private  curri- 
culum : — 

"Iliad  begun  in  1733  to  study  languages.  I 
soon  made  myself  so  much  a  master  of  the 
French,  as  to  be  able  to  read  the  books  in  that 
language  with  ease.  I  then  undertook  the  Italian, 
An  acquaintance,  who  was  also  learning  it,  used 
often  to  tempt  me  to  play  chess  with  him.  Find- 
ing this  took  up  too  much  of  the  time  I  had  to 
spare  for  study,  I  at  length  refused  to  play  any  more, 
unless  on  this  condition,  that  the  victor  in  every 
game  should  have  a  right  to  impose  a  task,  either 
of  parts  of  the  grammar,  to  be  got  by  heart,  or  in 
translations,  etc.,  which  tasks  the  vanquished  was 
to  perform  upon  honor  before  our  next  meeting. 
As  we  played  pretty  equally,  we  thus  beat  one 
another  into  that  language.  I  afterwards,  with  a 
little  pains-taking,  acquired  as  much  of  the  Span- 
ish as  to  read  their  books  also.  I  have  already 
mentioned  that  I  had  only  one  year's  instruction 
in  a  Fatin  school,  and  that  when  very  young,  after 
which  I  neglected  that  language  entirely ;  but 
when  I  had  attained  an  acquaintance  with  the 
French,  Italian,  and  Spanish,  I  was  surprised  to- 
find,  on  looking  over  a  Latin  Testament,  that  I 
understood  more  of  that  language  than  I  had 
imagined,  which  encouraged  me  to  apply  myself 
again  to  the  study  of  it ;  and  I  met  with  the  more 
success,  as  those  preceding  languages  had  greatly 
smoothed  my  way." 

Civic    Preferments  and  Duties. 

It  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  a  man  of  Frank- 
lin's comprehensive  mind,  and  useful  practical 
talents,  would  be  allowed  to  remain  long  in  the 
ranks  of  private  life.  Accordingly,  in  the  year 
1736,  he  was  appointed  clerk  to  the  General  As- 
sembly of  Pennsylvania.  No  opposition  was 
made  to  his  appointment  the  first  year ;    but  on 


44 


THE    WONDERFUL,  THE    CURIOUS,  AND    THE 


the  next  election,  a  new  member  of  the  house 
opposed  his  return  in  a  long  speech.  Franklin 
was,  however,  again  elected,  much  to  his  satis- 
faction :  for  although  the  place  was  one  of  almost 
no  direct  emolument,  it  gave  him  an  opportunity 
of  making  friends  among  the  members,  and  ulti- 
mately to  secure  to  himself  the  printing  of  most  of 
the  public  papers,  which  was  previously  shared  with 
his  rivals.  The  new  member  who  had  resisted 
his  re-election  was  a  man  of  talents  and  character ; 
and  Franklin,  although  too  independent  to  pay 
any  cringing  servility  to  hini,  perceived  the  pro- 
priety of  gaining  his  good  opinion ;  and  the 
expedient  he  hit  upon  for  this  purpose  affords 
another  instance  of  his  shrewdness  and  knowledge 
•of  human  nature.  Having  learned  that  the  gen- 
tleman possessed  a  very  rare  and  curious  book,  he 
wrote  him  a  polite  note,  requesting  that  he  would 
do  him  the  favor  of  lending  it  for  a  few  days. 
The  book  was  immediately  sent ;  and  in  about  a 
week  was  returned  by  the  borrower,  with  a  short 
epistle,  expressive  of  his  gratitude  for  the  favor. 
The  member  was  so  much  conciliated  by  the  cir- 
cumstance that  the  next  time  he  met  him  in  the 
house,  he  addressed  him  with  great  civility  ;  mani- 
fested ever  afterwards  a  great  desire  to  serve  him  ; 
and  the}-  became,  in  short,  intimate  friends. 
"This  is  another  instance,"  observes  Franklin, 
"of  the  truth  of  an  old  maxim  I  had  learned, 
which  says,  '  He  that  has  done  you  a  kindness 
will  be  more  ready  to  do  you  another  than  he 
whom  you  yourself  have  obliged.'  And  it  shows 
how  much  more  profitable  it  is  prudently  to  re- 
move than  to  resent,  return,  and  continue,  inimical 
proceedings. ' '  He  was  thereafter  re-elected  to  the 
same  post  without  opposition,  for  several  years 
successively.  In  the  following  year,  1737,  he  sup- 
planted his  rival  in  trade,  Bradford,  in  the  office 
of  deputy-postmaster  for  the  State  of  Pennsyl- 
vania. These  honorable  preferments  induced  him 
to  incline  his  thoughts  to,  and  take  a  more  active 
part  in,  public  affairs  than  he  had  hitherto  done. 

About  this  period  (1739),  the  celebrated  preach- 
er Whitefield  arrived  at  Philadelphia  from  Ireland. 
He  was  at  first  permitted  to  preach  in  some  of  the 
town  churches ;  but  the  clergy  soon  took  a  dislike 
to  him,  and  he  was  compelled  to  exercise  his  elo- 
quence in  the  open  streets  or  fields.  This  circum- 
stance, however,  like  all  displays  of  persecution 
in  matters  exclusively  connected  with  private 
opinion,  only  rendered  him  the  more  popular  :  and 


the  effects  of  his  oratory  speedily  manifested 
themselves. 

"It  was  wonderful,"  says  Franklin,  "to  see  the 
change  soon  made  in  the  manners  of  our  inhabi- 
tants. From  being  thoughtless  or  indifferent 
about  religion,  it  seemed  as  if  all  the  world  were 
growing  religious,  so  that  one  could  not  walk 
through  the  town  in  an  evening  without  hearing 
psalms  sung  in  different  families  of  even-  street ; 
and  it  being  found  inconvenient  to  assemble  in 
the  open  air,  subject  to  its  inclemencies,  the 
building  of  a  house  to  meet  in  was  no  sooner  pro- 
posed, and  persons  appointed  to  receive  contribu- 
tions, than  sufficient  sums  were  soon  received  to 
procure  the  ground  and  erect  the  building,  which 
was  one  hundred  feet  long  and  seventy  broad; 
and  the  work  was  carried  on  with  such  spirit  as 
to  be  finished  in  a  remarkably  short  time." 

On  leaving  Philadelphia,  Mr.  Whitefield  went, 
preaching  all  the  way,  through  the  colonies  to 
Georgia.  The  settlement  of  that  province  had 
been  recently  commenced,  and  was  attempted  by 
people  entirely  unfit  for  such  an  experiment. 
They  were  unable  to  endure  the  fatigues  and 
hardships  of  their  situation,  and  perished  in  great 
numbers,  leaving  many  helpless  children  with 
nothing  to  feed  or  clothe  them.  "The  sight  of 
their  miserable  situation,"  says  Franklin,  "in- 
spired the  benevolent  heart  of  Mr.  Whitefield,  with 
the  idea  of  building  an  orphan  house  there,  in 
which  they  might  be  supported  and  educated. 
Returning  northward,  he  preached  up  this  charity, 
and  made  large  collections ;  for  his  eloquence  had 
a  wonderful  power  over  the  hearts  and  purses  of 
his  hearers,  of  which  I  myself  was  an  instance. 
I  did  not  disapprove  of  the  design  ;  but  as  Geor- 
gia was  thexi  destitute  of  materials  and  workmen, 
and  it  was  proposed  to  send  them  from  Philadel- 
phia at  a  great  expense,  I  thought  it  would  have 
been  better  to  have  built  the  house  at  Philadel- 
phia, and  brought  the  children  to  it.  This  I 
advised  ;  but  he  was  resolute  in  his  first  project, 
rejected  my  proposal,  and  I  therefore  refused  to 
contribute. 

' '  I  happened  soon  after  to  attend  one  of  his  ser- 
mons, in  the  course  of  which  I  perceived  he  in- 
tended to  finish  with  a  collection,  and  I  silently 
resolved  he  should  get  nothing  from  me.  I  had 
in  my  pocket  a  handful  of  coppers,  three  or  four 
silver  dollars,  and  five  pistoles  in  gold.  As  he 
proceeded,   I  began   to  soften,  and  concluded  to 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


45 


give  the  coppers.  Another  stroke  of  his  oratory 
made  me  ashamed  of  that,  and  determined  me  to 
give  the  silver ;  and  he  finished  so  admirably,  that 
I  emptied  my  pocket  wholly  into  the  collector's 
dish,  gold  and  all !  " 

At  this  time  there  was  no  military  defensive 
force  in  Pennsylvania.  The  inhabitants  were 
mostly  Quakers,  and  neglected  to  take  any 
measures  of  precaution  against  the  dangers  to 
which,  from  the  French  possessions  in  Canada, 
they  were  continually  exposed.  All  the  exertions 
of  the  governor  of  the  province  to  induce  the 
Quaker  assembly  to  pass  a  militia  law  proved  in- 
effectual. Franklin  thought  something  might  be 
done  by  a  subscription  among  the  people ;  and  to 
pave  the  way  for  this,  he  wrote  and  published  a 
pamphlet  called  "  Plain  Truth."  In  this  he  clear- 
ly exposed  their  helpless  and  perilous  situation, 
and  demonstrated  the  necessity  of  co-operation 
for  their  mutual  defence.  The  pamphlet  had  a 
sudden  and  surprising  effect.  A  meeting  of  the 
citizens  was  held,  at  which  proposals  of  the  in- 
tended union,  previously  drawn  up  and  printed  by 
Franklin,  were  distributed  about  the  room,  to  be 
signed  by  those  who  approved  of  them  ;  and  when 
the  company  separated,  it  was  found  that  above 
twelve  hundred  signatures  had  been  appended  to 
the  papers.  Other  copies  were  distributed  through 
the  province,  and  the  subscribers  at  length 
amounted  to  upwards  of  ten  thousand  !  All  these 
individuals  furnished  themselves,  as  soon  as  they 
could,  with  arms ;  formed  themselves  into  com- 
panies and  regiments ;  chose  their  officers,  and 
had  themselves  regularly  instructed  in  rnilitary 
exercises.  The  women  made  subscriptions  among 
themselves,  and  provided  silk  colors,  which  they 
presented  to  the  companies,  embellished  with 
devices  and  mottoes  furnished  by  Franklin.  Such 
influence  has  one  master-mind  among  his  fellows 
in  a  time  of  emergency  ! 

Franklin's  modest}-,  however,  was  more  than 
commensurate  with  his  patriotism.  The  officers 
of  the  companies  composing  the  Philadelphia 
regiment  unanimous^  chose  him  for  their  colonel, 
but  he  declined  the  office  in  favor  of  a  man  of 
greater  wealth  and  influence,  who,  on  his  recom- 
mendation, was  immediately  elected.  These 
exertions  of  Franklin  procured  him  great  confi- 
dence from  the  governor  and  council,  who  con- 
sulted him  on  all  their  public  measures.  Not- 
withstanding,   too,    the   passive   principle   of   the 


Quakers,  it  was  soon  seen  that  the  precautious 
of  military  defence  were  anything  but  disagree- 
able to  them.  A  distinguished  individual  of  their 
number,  Mr.  Logan,  published  an  address  de- 
claring his  approbation  of  defensive  war,  and 
supporting  his  opinion  by  able  and  elaborate 
arguments. 

This  gentleman,  who  came  over  from  England 
when  a  young  man,  as  secretary  to  the  famous 
William  Penn,  used  to  relate  an  anecdote  respect- 
ing his  old  master,  which  is  sufficiently  amusing. 
During  their  voyage,  they  were  chased  by  an 
armed  vessel,  supposed  to  be  an  enemy.  Their 
captain  prepared  for  defence,  but  told  Penn  and 
his  company  of  Quakers  that  he  did  not  expect 
their  assistance,  and  that  they  might  retire  into 
the  cabin.  This  notification  they  all  complied 
with,  excepting  Logan,  who  remained  on  deck, 
and  was  quartered  to  a  gun.  The  supposed  ene- 
my proved  a  friend,  so  that  there  was  no  fighting  ; 
but  when  the  secretary  carried  the  joyful  news  for 
his  friends  in  the  cabin,  Penn  reproved  him  se- 
verely for  staying  on  deck,  and  lending  his  assis- 
tance in  defence  of  the  vessel,  as  being  a  breach 
of  the  principles  of  the  society.  Logan,  nettled 
at  this  comment  on  his  courageous  conduct,  which 
was  made  before  the  whole  company,  replied,  "  I 
being  thy  servant,  why  did  thee  not  order  me  to 
come  down  ?  but  thee  was  willing  enough  that  I 
should  stay  and  help  to  fight  the  ship,  when  thee 
thought  there  was  danger  ! ' ' 

Franklin's   Electrical   Discoveries. 

Some  time  previous  to  1749,  Franklin  became 
interested  in  the  experiments  with  electricity  that 
were  then  attracting  so  much  attention,  and  several 
important  discoveries  were  made  by  him. 

We  now  advert  to  another  brilliant  discovery  by 
this  illustrious  philosopher,  namely,  the  similarity 
between  lightning  and  electricity.  The  Abbe 
Nollet  had,  before  him,  hinted  his  suspicions  of 
this  resemblance,  but  only  in  the  most  loose  and 
distant  way. 

In  a  paper,  dated  November  7,  1749,  Franklin 
enumerates  all  the  known  points  of  resemblance 
between  lightning  and  electricity.  In  the  first 
place,  he  remarks,  it  is  no  wonder  that  the  effects 
of  the  one  should  be  so  much  greater  than  those 
of  the  other ;  for  if  two  gun-barrels  electrified  will 
strike  at  two  inches'  distance,  and  make  a  loud  re- 
port, at  how  great  a  distance  will  ten  thousand 
acres  of  electrified  cloud  strike,  and  give  out  fire ; 


46 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


and  how  loud  must  be  that  crack  !  He  had  known 
for  some  time  the  extraordinary  power  of  pointed 
bodies,  both  in  drawing  and  in  throwing  off  the 
electric  fire.  The  true  explanation  of  this  fact  did 
not  occur  to  him  ;  but  it  is  a  direct  consequence  of 
the  fundamental  principle  of  his  own  theory,  ac- 
cording to  which  the  repulsive  tendency  of  the 
particles  of  electricity  towards  each  other,  occasion- 
ing the  fluid  to  retire,  in  even-  case,  from  the  in- 
terior to  the  surface  of  bodies,  drives  it  with  espe- 
cial force  towards  points  and  other  prominences, 
and  thus  favors  its  escape  through  such  outlets ; 
while,  oil  the  other  hand,  the  more  concentrated 
attraction  which  the  matter  of  a  pointed  bod}-,  as 
compared  with  a  blunt  one,  exerts  upon  the  elec- 
tricity to  which  it  is  presented,  brings  it  down  into 
its  new  channel  in  a  denser  stream.  In  posses- 
sion, however,  of  the  fact,  we  find  him  concluding 
the  paper  we  have  mentioned  as  follows  :  ' '  The 
electric  fluid  is  attracted  by  points.  We  do  not 
know  whether  this  property  be  in  lightning  ;  but 
since  they  agree  in  all  the  particulars  in  which  we 
can  already  compare  them,  it  is  not  improbable 
that  they  agree  likewise  in  this.  Let  the  experi- 
ment be  made. 

Full  of  this  idea,  his  attention  was  one  day  drawn 
to  a  kite  which  a  boy  was  flying,  and  it  suddenly 
occurred  to  him  that  here  was  a  method  of  reach- 
ing the  clouds  preferable  to  any  other.  Accord- 
ingly, he  immediately  took  a  large  silk  handker- 
chief, and  stretching  it  over  two  cross  sticks, 
formed  in  this  manner  his  simple  apparatus  for 
drawing  the  lightning  from  its  cloud.  Soon  after, 
seeing  a  thunder  storm  approaching,  he  took  a 
walk  into  a  field  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  city, 
in  which  there  was  a  shed,  communicating  his  in- 
tentions, however,  to  no  one  but  his  son,  whom 
he  took  with  him  to  assist  him  in  raising  the  kite  : 
this  was  in  June,  1752. 

The  kite  being  raised,  he  fastened  a  key  to  the 
lower  extremity  of  the  hempen  string,  and  insu- 
lating it  by  attaching  it  to  a  post  by  means  of  silk, 
he  placed  himself  under  the  shed,  and  waited  the 
result.  For  some  time  no  signs  of  electricity 
appeared.  A  cloud,  apparently  charged  with 
lightning,  had  even  passed  over  them  without 
producing  any  effect.  At  length,  however,  just 
as  Franklin  was  beginning  to  despair,  he  observed 
some  loose  threads  of  the  hempen  string  rise  and 
stand  erect,  exactly  as  if  they  had  been  repelled 
from  each  other  by  being  charged  with  electricity. 


He  immediately  presented  his  knuckle  to  the  key, 
and,  to  his  inexpressible  delight,  drew  from  it  the 
well-known  electrical  spark.  He  said  afterwards 
that  his  emotion  was  so  great  at  this  completion 
of  a  discovery  which  was  to  make  his  name  im- 
mortal, that  he  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and  felt  that 
he  could  at  that  moment  have  willingly  died.  As 
the  rain  increased,  the  cord  became  a  better  con- 
ductor, and  the  key  gave  out  its  electricity  co- 
piously. Had  the  hemp  been  thoroughly  wet,  the 
bold  experimenter  might,  as  he  was  contented  to 
do,  have  paid  for  his  discover},-  with  his  life.  He 
afterwards  brought  down  the  lightning  into  his 
house,  by  means  of  an  insulated  iron  rod,  and  per- 
formed with  it,  at  his  leisure,  all  the  experiments 
that  could  be  performed  with  electricity.  But  he 
did  not  stop  here.  His  active  and  practical  mind 
was  not  satisfied  even  with  the  splendid  discovery, 
until  he  had  turned  it  to  a  useful  end.  It  sug- 
gested to  him,  as  is  well  known,  the  idea  of  a 
method  of  preserving  buildings  from  lightning, 
which  is  extremely  simple  and  cheap,  as  well  as 
effectual,  consisting,  as  it  does,  in  nothing  more 
than  attaching  to  the  building  a  pointed  metallic 
rod,  rising  higher  than  any  part  of  it,  and  com- 
municating at  the  lower  end  with  the  ground. 
This  rod  the  lightning  is  sure  to  seize  upon,  in 
preference  to  any  part  of  the  building ;  by  which 
means  it  is  conducted  to  the  earth,  and  prevented 
from  doing  any  injur}-.  There  was  always  a 
strong  tendency  in  Franklin's  philosophy  to  these 
practical  applications. 

Franklin's  discoveries  did  not  at  first  attract 
much  attention  in  England  ;  and,  in  fact,  he  had 
the  mortification  to  hear  that  his  paper  on  the 
similarity  between  lightning  and  electricity  had 
been  ridiculed  when  read  in  the  Royal  Society. 
Having  fallen,  however,  into  the  hands  of  the  na- 
turalist, Buffon,  that  celebrated  man  translated 
and  published  it  in  Paris,  when  it  speedily  excited 
the  astonishment  of  Europe.  What  gave  his  book 
the  more  sudden  and  general  celebrity,  was  the 
success  of  one  of  its  proposed  experiments  for 
drawing  lightning  from  the  clouds,  made  at  Mar- 
ley.  This  engaged  the  public  attention  every- 
where. ' '  The  Philadelphia  experiments, ' '  as  they 
were  called,  were  performed  before  the  king  and 
court,  and  all  the  curious  of  Paris  flocked  to  see 
them.  Dr.  Wright,  an  English  physician,  being 
at  Paris  at  the  time,  wrote  to  a  member  of  the 
Roval  Society  of  London,  with  an  account  of  these 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


47 


wonders,  and  stating  the  surprise  of  all  the  learned 
men  abroad  of  Franklin's  writings  being  so  little 
noticed  in  England.  The  society  were  thus  in  a 
manner  compelled  to  pay  more  attention  to  what 
they  had  previously  considered  as  chimerical 
speculations,  "and  soon,"  says  Franklin,  "made 
me  more  than  amends  for  the  slight  with  which 
they  had  before  treated  me.  Without  my  having 
made  any  application  for  that  honor,  they  chose 
me  a  member,  and  voted  that  I  should  be  excused 
the  customary  payments,  which  would  have 
amounted  to  twenty-five  guineas,  and  ever  since 
have  given  me  their  Transactions  gratis.  They 
also  presented  me  with  the  gold  medal  of  Sir  God- 
frey Copley  for  the  year  1753,  the  delivery  of 
which  was  accompanied  with  a  very  handsome 
speech  of  the  president,  Lord  Macclesfield,  wherein 
I  was  highly  honored. ' ' 

Although  the  numerous  important  public  duties 
which  Franklin  was  called  upon  latterly  to  dis- 
charge chiefly  engrossed  his  time,  he  still  returned 
to  his  philosophical  studies  on  every  occasion  that 
offered,  and  made  several  curious  and  interesting 
discoveries. 

Perhaps  no  philosopher  ever  stood  on  a  prouder 
eminence  in  the  world's  eye  than  Franklin  during 
the  latter  half  of  his  life.  The  ^obscurity  of  his 
origin  served  but  to  make  his  elevation  the  more 
brightly  conspicuous  ;  and  honors  were  showered 
on  him  from  all  quarters  of  the  civilized  world. 
In  1757  he  visited  England,  and  before  his  return 
made  a  tour  of  Scotland,  where  he  formed  an  inti- 
macy with  Eord  Karnes,  and  had  the  degree  con- 
ferred upon  him  of  Doctor  of  Laws  by  the  Uni- 
versity of  St.  Andrews.  In  1764  he  again  visited 
England,  from  which  he  proceeded  to  the  conti- 
nent of  Europe.  In  Holland,  Germany  and 
France,  he  was  received  with  the  greatest  testi- 
monies of  respect  from  all  men  of  science  and 
distinction.  At  Paris  Louis  XV.  honored  him 
with  the  most  distinguished  marks  of  his  favor. 
Political    Career. 

This  part  of  Franklin's  life  need  only  be  very 
generally  touched  on,  the  scenes  and  transactions 
in  which  he  bore  a  part  having  long  since  become 
matter  of  history,  with  which  almost  every  indi- 
vidual is  now  more  or  less  acquainted.  We  have 
before  mentioned  that  he  was  elected  a  member  of 
the  General  Assembly  of  Pennsylvania,  as  burgess 
for  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  in  1747.  Warm  disputes 
at  this  time  subsisted  between  the  Assembly  and 


the  proprietaries,*  each  contending  for  what  they 
conceived  to  be  their  rights.  Franklin,  a  friend  of 
the  interests  of  the  many  from  his  infancy,  speedily 
distinguished  himself  as  a  stead}'  opponent  of  the 
claims  of  the  proprietaries,  and  he  was  soon  looked 
up  to  as  the  head  of  the  opposition.  His  influence 
with  the  Assembly  is  said  to  have  been  very  great. 
This  arose  not  from  an)-  superior  powers  of  elocu- 
tion ;  he  spoke  but  seldom,  and  he  never  was 
known  to  make  anything  like  an  elaborate 
harangue.  "His  speeches,"  says  his  intimate 
friend,  the  late  Dr.  Stuber,  of  Philadelphia,  "fre- 
quently consisted  of  but  a  single  sentence,  or  of  a 
well-told  story,  the  moral  of  which  was  always 
obviously  to  the  point.  He  never  attempted  the 
flowery  fields  of  oratory.  His  manner  was  plain 
and  mild  ;  his  style  of  speaking  was,  like  that  of  his 
writings,  simple,  unadorned,  and  remarkably  con- 
cise. With  his  plain  manner,  and  his  penetrating 
and  solid  judgment,  he  was  able  to  confound  the 
most  eloquent  and  subtle  of  his  adversaries,  to  con- 
firm the  opinions  of  his  friends,  and  to  make  con- 
verts of  the  unprejudiced  who  had  opposed  him. 
With  a  single  observation  he  has  rendered  of  no 
avail  an  elegant  and  lengthy  discourse,  and  deter- 
mined the  fate  of  a  question  of  importance. ' ' 

Franklin  had  conducted  himself  so  well  in  the 
office  of  postmaster  for  the  State  of  Pennsylvania, 
and  had  shown  himself  so  well  acquainted  with 
the  business  of  this  department,  that  it  was 
thought  expedient  to  raise  him  to  a  more  dig- 
nified station.  In  1753,  he  was  appointed  deputy- 
postmaster-general  for  the  British  colonies.  It  is 
said  that  the  revenue  from  this  source,  in  Frank- 
lin's hands,  yielded  to  Great  Britain  three  times 
as  much  as  that  of  Ireland.  In  1754,  Franklin 
drew  up  the  celebrated  "Albany  Plan  of  Union," 
the  purpose  of  which  was  the  establishment  of  a 
general  government  in  the  colonies,  to  be  adminis- 
tered by  a  president-general,  appointed  by  the 
crown,  and  by  a  grand  council,  consisting  of 
members  chosen  by  the  representatives  of  the  dif- 
ferent colonies ;  the  whole  executive  authority  to 
be  committed  to  the  president-general ;  the  legisla- 
tive to  the  grand  council  and  president  jointly, 
and  all  laws  to  be  approved  by  the  king.  This 
plan  was  unanimously  approved  of  by  the  commis- 
sioners for  the  crown  and  the  colonies  appointed 

*  The  descendants  of  the  original  settlers  who  had  re- 
ceived grants  of  land  from  the  British  government,  who 
claimed  exemption  from  all  taxes,  and  other  privileges. 


48 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


to  consult  on  the  question,  but  its  final  fate  was 
singular.  It  was  rejected  by  the  ministry  of  Great 
Britain  as  too  democratical,  and  by  every  local 
assembly  as  too  despotic.  These  verdicts  were, 
perhaps,  the  best  proof  of  its  excellence  and  of  its 
having  steered  exactly  in  the  middle  betwixt  the 
interests  of  both. 

The  British  government  having  thus  rejected  a 
proposal  of  internal  defence  in  the  colonies,  they 
were  soon  obliged  to  adopt  measures  of  another 
sort  for  their  protection.  Aggressive  operations 
were  again  threatened  by  the  French  ;  and  in  1754 
General  Braddock  was  dispatched  from  England 
with  two  regiments  of  regular  English  troops  to 
resist  them.  The  troops  were  landed  at  Alexan- 
dria, and  marched  thence  to  Fredericktown  in 
Maryland,  where  they  halted  for  carriages  to  trans- 
port their  baggage,  ammunition,  etc.,  to  the  fron- 
tiers. Great  reluctance  was  manifested  by  the 
country  people  to  supply  these,  and,  in  fact,  so  few 
were  sent  in,  and  so  many  other  difficulties  oc- 
curred, that  the  general  was  about  to  abandon  the 
expedition  altogether.  In  this  dilemma  he  was 
fortunately  joined  by  Franklin,  who,  aware  of  the 
necessity  and  importance  of  the  expedition,  asked 
General  Braddock  what  recompense  he  would 
afford  to  the  owners  for  the  use  of  their  wagons 
and  horses.  General  Braddock  referred  the  terms 
to  himself ;  the}'  were  drawn  up  and  accepted  ; 
and  Franklin  immediately  published  them  in  an 
advertisement,  with  an  animated  appeal  from  him- 
self to  the  loyalty  and  patriotism  of  his  country- 
men. The  consequence  was,  that,  in  two  weeks, 
150  wagons  and  260  horses  poured  into  the  camp, 
the  owners  of  which,  however,  declined  the  secu- 
rity of  the  British  commander  for  compensation, 
and  insisted  on  having  the  personal  bond  of  Frank- 
lin. This  he  accordingly  gave  them,  and  even 
advanced  several  hundred  pounds  of  his  own  in 
present  payment. 

The  expedition  accordingly  set  forward,  and  its 
disastrous  issue  must  still  be  well  remembered. 
Although  a  brave  man,  Braddock  had  far  too 
much  confidence  in  the  prowess  of  his  regular 
troops,  and  too  much  contempt  for  the  Americans 
and  Indians.  About  one  hundred  of  the  latter 
joined  him  on  his  march,  who  would  have  proved 
of  the  utmost  use  to  him  as  guides  and  scouts, 
but  he  treated  them  so  slightingly  that  they  all 
left  him.  No  appearance  of  the  enemy  was  seen 
until  the  troops  had  penetrated  far  into  the  in- 


terior ;  and  the  first  intelligence  which  they  had 
of  the  approach  of  a  foe  was  in  finding  that  they 
had  fallen  into  an  ambuscade,  where  they  were 
mowed  down  in  hundreds  by  invisible  antagonists 
secreted  among  the  trees  and  bushes.  A  general 
rout  and  confusion  almost  immediately  ensued. 
The  drivers  cut  their  horses'  traces  and  fled,  aban- 
doning the  wagons,  which  also  obstructed  the 
retreat  of  the  soldiers.  The  general  was  with 
difficulty  brought  off,  severely  wounded  ;  and  out 
of  eighty-six  officers,  sixty-three  were  killed  or 
wounded,  with  seven  hundred  and  fourteen  privates 
killed,  out  of  eleven  hundred  who  fell  into  the  snare. 
All  the  artillery  and  stores,  of  course,  were  left  to 
the  enemy. 

As  soon  as  the  news  of  the  defeat,  and  the  loss 
of  the  wagons  and  horses,  became  generally  known, 
the  owners  came  in  a  body  upon  Franklin  for  the 
amount  of  their  claims,  for  which  he  had  given 
bond,  amounting  to  nearly  ^20,000  !  It  was  with 
difficulty  that  man}'  of  these  claimants  were  pre- 
vented from  suing  him,  until  government  had  time 
to  examine  into  their  charges  and  order  payment ; 
but  the  matter  was  at  length  satisfactorily  settled. 

The  assembly  now  laid  a  tax,  to  raise  money 
for  the  defence  of  the  province,  and  Franklin  was 
appointed  one  of  the  commissioners  to  dispose 
of  it.  He  had  also  carried  a  bill  through  the 
house  for  establishing  and  disciplining  a  vol- 
untary militia.  To  promote  the  association  ne- 
cessary to  form  the  militia,  he  wrote  a  dialogue 
upon  the  subject,  which  was  extensively  circu- 
lated, and  thought  to  have  great  effect.  While  the 
several  companies  in  the  city  and  country  were 
forming  and  learning  their  exercise,  the  governor 
prevailed  upon  Franklin  to  take  charge  of  the 
northwestern  frontier,  which  was  infested  by  the 
enemy,  and  provide  for  the  defence  of  the  in- 
habitants, by  raising  troops  and  building  a  line 
of  forts.  Franklin  did  not  think  himself  very 
well  qualified  for  the  military,  but  was  willing 
to  be  of  all  the  service  in  his  power.  He  re- 
ceived a  commission  from  the  governor,  with  full 
authority,  and  a  parcel  of  blank  commissions 
for  officers,  to  be  given  to  whom  he  thought  fit. 
Five  hundred  and  sixty  men  were  soon  raised 
and  placed  under  his  command. 

The  first  place  selected  for  the  erection  of  a  fort 
was  Gnadenhutten,  a  small  settlement  of  Mora- 
vians ;  and  thither  Franklin  set  out  in  the  middle 
of  winter,  amid  torrents  of  rain,  and  through  al- 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


49 


most  impassable  roads.  Upon  arriving  at  the 
village,  he  lost  not  a  moment  in  planning  and 
marking  out  the 
fort,  with  a  cir- 
c  u  m  f  e  r  e  n  c  e  of 
455  feet ;  and  the 
men  were  in- 
stantly set  t  o 
work  with  their 
axes  to  cut  down 
trees  f  o  r  p  a  1  i  - 
sades.  Seeing 
the  trees  fall  so 
fast,  Franklin 
had  the  curiosity 
to  look  at  his 
watch  when  two 
men  began  to  cut 
at  a  pine.  In  six 
minutes  they 
had  it  upon  the 
ground,  and  it 
was  fourteen 
inches  in  di- 
ameter. Each 
pine  made  three 
palisades  of 
eighteen  feet 
long,  pointed  at 
one  end.  While 
these  were  pre- 
paring,  other 
men  dug  a  trench 
all  round,  of 
three  feet  deep, 
i  n  w  h  i  c  h  the 
palisades  were  to 
be  planted. 
When  these 
were  set  up,  the 
carpenters  built 
within  them  a 
platform  of 
boards  all  round, 
about  six  feet 
high,  for  the 
men  to  stand  on 
and  fire  through 
the  loop-holes. 
They    had     one 

swivel  gun,  which    they  mounted,   and    fired  as 
soon  as  it  was  fixed  that  the  Indians  might  know 
4 


they  had  such  pieces.     Thus  their  fort,  such  as 
it  was,  was  finished  in  a  week,  though  it  rained 


FALL  OF  GENERAL  BRADDOCK. 


so  hard  every  other  day  that  the  men  were  almost 
unable  to  work. 


50 


THE  WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND  THE 


"This  gave  me  occasion  to  observe,"  says 
Franklin,  "  that  when  men  are  employed  they  are 
best  contented.  For  on  the  days  they  worked  they 
were  good-natured  and  cheerful,  and,  with  the 
consciousness  of  having  done  a  good  day's  work, 
the}-  spent  the  evening  gayly.  But  on  our  idle 
days  they  were  mutinous  and  quarrelsome,  finding 
fault  with  the  pork  and  the  bread,  and  were  con- 
tinually in  bad  humor  ;  which  put  me  in  mind  of 
a  sea  captain,  whose  rule  it  was  to  keep  his  men 
constantly  at  work  ;  and  when  his  mate  once  told 
him  that  they  had  done  everything,  and  there  was 
nothing  further  to  employ  them  about,  '  Oh,'  said 
he,  '  make  them  scour  the  anchor.' 

"This  kind  of  fort,"  he  continues,  "however 
contemptible,  is  a  sufficient  defence  against  In- 
dians, who  have  no  cannon.  Finding  ourselves 
now  posted  securely,  and  having  a  place  to  retreat 
to  on  occasion,  we  ventured  out  in  parties  to  scour 
the  adjacent  country.  We  met  with  no  Indians, 
but  we  found  the  places  on  the  neighboring  hills 
where  they  had  lain  to  watch  our  proceedings. 
There  was  an  art  in  their  contrivance  of  those 
places  that  seems  worth  mentioning. 

"  It  being  winter,  a  fire  was  necessary  for  them  ; 
but  a  common  fire,  on  the  surface  of  the  ground, 
would  by  its  light  have  discovered  their  position 
at  a  distance :  they  had  therefore  dug  holes  in  the 
ground  about  three  feet  in  diameter,  and  some- 
what deeper  ;  we  found  where  they  had,  with  their 
hatchets,  cut  off  the  charcoal  from  the  side  of 
burnt  logs  lying  in  the  woods.  With  these  coals 
thej'  had  made  small  fires  in  the  bottom  of  the 
holes,  and  we  observed  among  the  weeds  and  grass 
the  prints  of  their  bodies  made  by  their  lying  all 
round,  with  their  legs  hanging  down  in  the  holes 
to  keep  their  feet  warm,  which  with  them  is  an 
essential  point.  This  kind  of  fire,  so  managed 
could  not  discover  them  either  by  its  light,  flame, 
sparks,  or  even  smoke  ;  it  appeared  that  the  num- 
ber was  not  great,  and  it  seems  they  saw  we  were 
too  many  to  be  attacked  by  them  with  a  prospect 
of  advantage. 

' '  We  had  for  our  chaplain  a  zealous  Presby- 
terian minister,  Mr.  Beatty,  who  complained  to 
me  that  the  men  did  not  generally  attend  his 
pi  avers  and  exhortations.  When  they  enlisted 
they  were  promised,  besides  pay  and  provisions,  a 
gill  of  rum  a-day,  which  was  punctually  served 
out  to  them,  half  in  the  morning  and  half  in  the 
evening,  and    I  observed  they  were  punctual    in 


attending  to  receive  it.''  Franklin  advised  that 
the  rum  should  be  distributed  only  just  after 
prayers  ;  and  never  were  prayers  more  generally 
or  more  punctually  attended. 

Franklin's  military  career,  was,  however,  a  short 
one,  for  he  had  scarcely  completed  his  defensive 
preparations,  when  he  received  a  summons  to 
attend  the  assembly,  where  his  advice  and  assis- 
tance were  found  indispensable. 

Upon  the  breaking  out  of  the  fatal  disturbances 
in  consequence  of  Mr.  Grenville's  Stamp  Act, 
Franklin  had  again  returned  to  England,  as  agent 
for  Pennsylvania  and  other  States.  During  his 
residence  in  England,  he  consulted,  with  unre- 
mitting industry,  the  best  interests  of  his  native 
country.  He  was  everywhere  received  with 
respect,  on  account  of  his  reputation  as  a  writer 
and  philosopher.  Franklin  was  unwearied  in  his 
efforts  to  bring  about  a  reconciliation.  He  had 
frequent  interviews  with  Ford  Howe  and  Ford 
Chatham,  and  other  distinguished  English  states- 
men, who  entertained  for  him  the  highest  respect 
and  esteem.  Most  of  the  time  during  his  present 
residence  in  England  was  occupied  in  these  vain 
efforts.  It  is  well  known  that  the  first  violent 
demonstrations  against  the  imposition  of  the 
Stamp  Act,  broke  out  in  Franklin's  native  place, 
Boston,  the  capital  of  the  State  of  Massachusetts. 
The  governor,  Hutchinson,  and  other  function- 
aries, wrote  to  the  home  government,  recommend- 
ing the  adoption  of  the  most  rigorous  coercive 
measures,  inveighing  in  unmeasured  tenns  against 
the  leading  characters  of  the  State.  By  some  un- 
accountable means,  these  letters  fell  into  Franklin's 
hands  ere  they  reached  their  destination.  He  in- 
stantly transmitted  them  back  to  the  assembly  at 
Massachusetts,  who,  enraged  at  the  conduct 
of  the  governor,  sent  a  petition  to  the  king, 
praying  for  his  dismissal,  and  Franklin  was 
appointed  to  present  it.  As  might  have  been  ex- 
pected, the  petition  was  dismissed  as  "frivolous 
and  vexatious  ;"  and  Franklin  incurred  so  much 
obloquy  for  his  interception  of  the  governor's  des- 
patches (the  mode  of  which  was  never  discovered) 
that  he  was  dismissed  from  his  office  of  deputy- 
postmaster-general.  He  still  continued  in  Eng- 
land, however,  and  left  nothing  untried  to  effect 
a  reconciliation  between  the  mother  country  and 
the  colonies ;  but  finding  all  his  endeavors  una- 
vailing, he  returned  to  America  in  1775.  The  day 
after  his  arrival,  he  was  elected  by  the  Legislature 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


51 


of  Pennsylvania  as  a  delegate  to  Congress.  Hos- 
tilities had  then  commenced  ;  but  it  would  be  re- 
peating a  thrice-told  tale  to  enter  into  any  account 
of  the  protracted  and  bloody  struggle  that  ensued, 
or  the  nature  of  its  termination.  In  1778,  Frank- 
lin was  sent  as  ambassador  to  the  court  of  France, 
where  he  soon  brought  about  an  alliance  between 
that  nation  and  the  North  American  States. 
When  the  British  ministry  at  length  saw  the  ne- 
cessity of  recognizing  the  independence  of  the 
States,  the  definitive  treaty  to  that  effect  was 
signed  at  Paris,  on  the  3d  of  September,  1783,  by 
Dr.  Franklin,  Mr.  Adams,  and  Mr.  Jayr,  for  the 
States,  on  the  one  hand  ;  and  by  Mr.  David  Hart- 
ley, for  Great  Britain,  on  the  other.  Franklin 
continued  at  Paris  for  the  two  following  years ; 
but  at  last,  by  his  own  urgent  request,  was  re- 
called. Shortly  after  his  return,  he  was  elected 
president  of  the  supreme  executive  council,  and 
lent  all  his  still  perfect  energies  to  consolidating 
the  infant  government.  Age  and  infirmities, 
however,  claimed  their  usual  ascendency  ;  and  in 
17S8  he  retired  wholly  from  public  life. 

Death. 

Franklin's  last  public  act — and  it  was  one  in 
beautiful  accordance  with  the  whole  tenor  of  his 
life — was  putting  his  signature,  as  president  of 
the  An ti- Slavery  Society,  to  a  memorial  presented 
to  the  House  of  Representatives,  praying  them  to 
exert  the  full  powers  intrusted  to  them  to  dis- 
courage the  revolting  traffic  in  the  human  species. 
This  was  on  the  12th  of  February,  1789.  From 
this  day  forward,  he  was  confined  almost  constantly 
to  bed  with  the  stone,  from  which  he  suffered 
the  most  excruciating  agony.  Yet,  when  his  par- 
oxysms of  pain  drew  forth,  as  they  did  occasion- 
ally, an  irrepressible  groan,  he  would  observe,  he 
was  afraid  he  did  not  bear  his  suffering  as  he 
ought — acknowledged  his  grateful  sense  of  the 
many  blessings  he  had  received  from  the  Supreme 
Being,  who  had  raised  him  from  small  and  low 
beginnings  to  such  high  rank  and  consideration 
among  men,  and  made  no  doubt  but  his  present 
afflictions  were  kindly  intended  to  wean  him  from 
a  world  in  which  he  was  no  longer  fit  to  act  the 
part  assigned  him.  He  latterly  sank  into  a  calm 
lethargic  state  ;  and  on  the  17th  April,  1790,  about 
eleven  o'clock  at  night,  he  quietly  expired.  He 
was  then  aged  exactly  eighty-four  years  and  three 
months.  The  following  epitaph  was  written  by 
himself  many  years  previous  to  his  death,   but 


only  the  simple  inscription  "Benjamin  and  De- 
borah Franklin,  1790,"  was  placed  upon  the  plain 
marble  slab  that  covers  his  grave. 

' '  The  Body  of  Benjamin  Franklin,  Printer, 
[like  the  cover  of  an  old  book,  its  contents  torn 
out,  and  stript  of  its  lettering  and  gilding,]  lies 
here  food  for  worms  ;  yet  the  work  itself  shall  not 
be  lost,  for  it  will  (as  he  believed)  appear  once 
more  in  a  new  and  more  beautiful  edition,  corrected 
and  amended  by  The  Author." 
Character. 

In  looking  back  on  Franklin's  career,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  the  principal  feature  in  his  character  was 
worldly  prudence — not  in  the  usual  and  selfish 
acceptation  of  the  term,  but  that  prudence,  founded 
on  true  wisdom,  which  dictates  the  practice  of 
honesty,  industry,  frugality,  temperance,  in  short, 
all  those  qualities  which  may  be  classified  under 
the  name  of  "moral  virtues" — as  being  the  only 
certain  means  of  obtaining  distinction,  respect,  in- 
dependence and  mental  cheerfulness.  There  is  no 
other  writer  who  inculcates  lessons  of  practical 
wisdom  in  a  more  agreeable  and  popular  manner, 
and  we  much  regret  that  the  limits  of  this  sketch 
prevent  our  giving  many  extracts  illustrative  of 
this  quality.  His  whole  conduct  and  writings,  in- 
deed, present  the  somewhat  singular  union  of  great 
genius  with  practical  good  sense,  and  of  singular 
worldly  shrewdness  with  the  loftiest  integrity  of 
principle.  The  greatest  worldly  honors — and  few 
have  attained  higher — could  not  for  a  moment 
make  him  forget  or  deviate  from  the  fixed  prin- 
ciples with  which  he  started  in  life.  Ever  keeping 
before  his  mind  his  own  origin  and  rise,  he  justly 
considered  every  man  to  be  originally  on  a  par  in 
as  far  as  regarded  real  intrinsic  worth;  and  equally, 
by  precept  and  example,  contributed  more,  per- 
haps, than  any  individual  who  ever  existed  to 
breaking  down  these  invidious  bars  to  eminence 
and  success  in  life  which  the  conventional  habits 
and  artificial  feelings  of  society  had  theretofore 
interposed  to  the  elevation  of  those  unblessed  by 
birth  and  fortune. 

Some  of  Franklin's  Maxims. 

As  the  present  biography^  must  be  considered  as 
more  immediately  instructive  to  the  industrious 
and  productive  portion  of  mankind,  we  shall  con- 
clude it  by  giving  the  following  ' '  Advice  to  a 
Young  Tradesmen,"  written  by  Franklin  at  the 
time  when  his  industrious  and  frugal  habits  were 


52 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


just  beginning  to  be  rewarded  with  independence 
and  worldly  respect. 

' '  Remember  that  time  is  money.  He  that  can 
earn  ten  shillings  a-day  by  his  labor,  and  goes 
abroad  or  sits  idle  one-half  of  that  day,  though  he 
spends  but  sixpence  during  his  diversion  or  idle- 
ness, ought  not  to  reckon  that  the  only  expense  ; 
he  has  really  spent,  or  rather  thrown  away,  five 
shillings  besides. 

"  Remember  that  credit  is  money.  If  a  man  lets 
his  money  lie  in  my  hands  after  it  is  due,  he  gives 
me  the  interest,  or  so  much  as  I  can  make  of  it 
during  that  time.  This  amounts  to  a  considerable 
sum  where  a  man  has  a  good  and  large  credit,  and 
makes  good  use  of  it. 

"  Remember  that  money  is  of  a  prolific  generat- 
ing nature.  Money  can  beget  money,  and  its  off- 
spring can  beget  more,  and  so  on.  Five  shillings 
turned  is  six ;  turned  again  is  seven  and  three- 
pence ;  and  so  on  till  it  becomes  a  hundred  pounds. 
The  more  there  is  of  it,  the  more  it  produces  every 
turning,  so  that  the  profits  rise  quicker  and  cpaicker. 
He  that  kills  a  breeding  sow  destroys  all  her  off- 
spring to  the  thousandth  generation.  He  that 
murders  a  crown  destroys  all  that  it  might  have 
produced,  even  scores  of  pounds. 

"Remember  that  six  pounds  a  year  is  but  a  groat 
a  day.  For  this  little  sum  (which  may  be  daily 
wasted  either  in  time  or  expense,  unperceived)  a 
man  of  credit  may,  on  his  own  security,  have  the 
constant  possession  and  use  of  a  hundred  pounds. 
So  much  in  stock,  briskly  turned  by  an  industrious 
man,  produces  great  advantage. 

' '  Remember  this  saying  :  '  The  good  paymaster 
is  lord  of  another  man's  purse.'  He  that  is  known 
to  pay  punctually,  and  exactly  to  the  time  he  pro- 
mises, may  at  any  time,  and  on  any  occasion,  raise 
all  the  money  his  friends  can  spare.  This  is  some- 
times of  great  use.  After  industry  and  frugality, 
nothing  contributes  more  to  the  raising  of  a  young 
man  in  the  world  than  punctuality  and  justice  in 
all  his  dealings :  therefore,  never  keep  borrowed 
money  an  hour  beyond  the  time  you  promised, 
lest  a  disappointment  shut  up  your  friend's  purse 
forever. 

"The  most  trifling  actions  that  affect  a  man's 
credit  are  to  be  regarded.  The  sound  of  your  ham- 
mer at  five  in  the  morning,  or  nine  at  night  heard 
by  a  creditor,  makes  him  easy  six  months  longer  ; 
but  if  he  sees  you  at  a  billiard-table,  or  hears  your 
voice  at  a  tavern,  when  you  should  be  at  work,  he 


sends  for  his  money  the  next  day  ;  demands  it  be- 
fore he  can  receive  it  in  a  lump. 

' '  It  shows,  besides,  that  you  are  mindful  of  what 
you  owe  ;  it  makes  you  appear  a  careful  as  well  as 
an  honest  man,  and  that  still  increases  your  credit. 

' '  Beware  of  thinking  all  your  own  that  you  pos- 
sess, and  of  living  accordingly.  It  is  a  mistake 
that  many  people  who  have  credit  fall  into.  To 
prevent  this,  keep  an  exact  account,  for  some  time, 
both  of  your  expenses  and  your  income.  If  you 
take  the  pains  at  first  to  mention  particulars,  it 
will  have  this  good  effect — you  will  discover  how 
wonderfully  small  trifling  expenses  mount  up  to  a 
large  sums,  and  will  discern  what  might  have  been, 
and  may  for  the  future  be  saved,  without  occasion- 
ing any  great  inconvenience. 

' '  In  short,  the  way  to  wealth,  if  you  desire  it,  is 
as  plain  as  the  way  to  market.  It  depends  chiefly 
on  two  words — industry  and  frugality ;  that  is, 
wraste  neither  lime  nor  money,  but  make  the  best  use 
of  both.  Without  industry  and  frugality  nothing 
will  go,  and  with  them  everything.  He  that  gets  all 
he  can  honestly,  and  saves  all  he  gets  (necessary 
expenses  excepted),  will  certainly  become  rich — if 
that  Being  who  governs  the  world,  to  whom  all 
should  look  for  a  blessing  on  their  honest  en- 
deavors, doth  not,  in  His  wise  providence,  other- 
wise determine." 


Keimer's  Attempt  at  a  New  Religion. 

The  following  sketch  from  one  of  Franklin's 
experiences  with  Keimer,  the  printer  referred  to 
in  the  previous  article,  is  taken  from  Weems' 
"Life  of  Franklin."  Parson  Weems  was  the 
Mark  Twain  of  earl}'  American  literature,  and  his 
description  of  Keimer's  attempt  to  establish  a  new 
religion  occupies  a  deservedly  high  position  in 
humorous  composition : 

Ben  was  naturally  comic  in  a  high  degree,  and 
this  pleasant  vein,  greatly  improved  by  his  present 
golden  prospects,  betrayed  him  into  many  a  frolic 
with  Keimer,  to  whom  he  had  prudentty  attached 
himself  as  a  journeyman,  until  the  Aunis  should 
sail.  The  reader  will  excuse  Ben  for  these  frolics 
when  lie  comes  to  learn  what  were  their  aims  ; 
as  also  what  an  insufferable  old  creature  this 
Keimer  was.  Silly  as  a  booby,  yet  vain  as  a  jay, 
and  garrulous  as  a  pie,  he  could  never  rest  but 
when  in  a  stiff  argument,  and  acting  the  orator,  at 
which  he  looked  on  Cicero  himself  as  but  a  boy  to 
him.     Here  was  a  fine  target  for  Ben's  Socratic 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S  HISTORY. 


53 


artillery,  which  he  frequently  played  off  on  the 
old  Pomposo  with  great  effect.  By  questions  art- 
fully put,  he  would  obtain  of  him  certain  points, 
which  Keinier  readily  granted,  as  seeing  in  them 
no  sort  of  connection  with  the  matter  in  debate. 
But  yet  these  points,  when  granted,  like  distant 
nets  slyly  hauling  round  a  porpoise  or  sturgeon, 
would  by  degrees,  so  completely  circumvent  the 
silly  fish,  that  with  all  his  flouncing  and  fury  he 
could  never  extricate  himself,  but  rather  got  more 
deeply  entangled.  Often  caught  in  this  way,  he 
became  at  last  so  afraid  of  Ben's  questions,  that 
he  would  turn  as  mad  when  one  of  them  was 
poked  at  him,  as  a  bull  at  sight  of  a  scarlet  cloak  ; 
and  would  not  answer  the  simplest  question  with- 
out first  asking,  ' '  Well,  and  what  would  you  make 
of  that  ?"  He  came  at  length  to  form  so  exalted 
an  opinion  of  Ben's  talents  for  refutation,  that  he 
seriously  proposed  to  him  one  day  that  thej'  should 
turn  out  together  and  preach  a  New  Religion ! 
Keimer  was  to  preach  and  make  the  converts,  and 
Ben  to  answer  and  put  to  silence  the  gainsayers. 
He  said  a  world  of  money  might  be  made  by  it. 

On  hearing  the  outlines  of  this  new  religion, 
Ben  found  great  fault  with  it.  This  he  did  only 
that  he  might  have  another  frolic  with  Keimer ; 
but  his  frolics  were  praiseworthy,  for  they  all 
"leaned  to  virtue's  side."  The  truth  is,  he  saw 
that  Keimer  was  prodigiously  a  hypocrite.  At 
every  whipstitch  he  would  play  the  knave,  and 
then  for  a  pretence  would  read  his  Bible.  But 
it  was  not  the  moral  part  of  the  Bible,  the 
sweet  precepts  and  parables  of  the  Gospel  that  he 
read.  No,  verily.  Food  so  angelic  was  not  at  all 
to  the  tooth  of  his  childish  fancy,  which  delighted 
in  nothing  but  the  novel  and  curious.  Eike  too 
man}-  of  the  saints  nowadays,  he  would  rather 
read  about  the  witch  of  Endor,  than  the  good 
Samaritan,  and  hear  a  sermon  on  the  brazen 
candlesticks  than  on  the  love  of  God.  And  then, 
oh  dear  !  who  was  Melchizedeck  ?  Or  where  was 
the  land  of  Nod  ?  Or,  was  it  in  the  shape  of  a 
serpent  or  a  monkey  that  the  devil  tempted  Eve  ? 
As  he  was  one  day  poring  over  the  Pentateuch  as 
busy  after  some  nice  game  of  this  sort  as  a  terrier 
on  the  track  of  a  weazel,  he  came  to  that  famous 
text  where  Moses  says,  ' '  Thou  shalt  not  mar  the 
comers  of  thy  beard."  Aye!  this  was  the  di- 
vinity for  Keimer.  It  struck  him  like  a  new  light 
from  the  clouds  :  then  rolling  his  eyes  as  from  an 
apparition,  he  exclaimed,  "  Miserable  man  that  I 


am  !  and  was  I  indeed  forbidden  to  mar  even  the 
corners  of  my  beard,  and  have  I  been  all  this  time 
shaving  myself  as  smooth  as  a  eunuch  !  Fire  and 
brimstone,  how  have  you  been  boiling  up  for  me, 
and  I  knew  it  not !  Hell,  deepest  hell  is  my  por- 
tion, that's  a  clear  case,  unless  I  reform.  And 
reform  I  will  if  I  live.  Yes,  my  poor  naked  chin, 
if  ever  I  but  get  another  crop  upon  thee  and  I 
suffer  it  to  be  touched  by  the  ungodly  steel,  then 
let  my  right  hand  forget  her  cunning." 

From  that  day  he  became  as  shy  of  a  razor  as 
ever  Samson  was.  His  long  black  whiskers 
"  whistled  in  the  wind."  And  then  to  see  how  he 
would  stand  up  before  his  glass  and  stroke  them 
down,  it  would  have  reminded  you  of  some  ancient 
Druid,  adjusting  the  sacred  mistletoe.  . 

Ben  could  not  bear  that  sight.  Such  shameless 
neglect  of  angel  morality,  and  yet  such  fidgetting- 
about  a  goatish  beard!  "Heavens,  sir,"  said  he 
to  Keimer.  one  day  in  the  midst  of  a  hot  argu- 
ment— 

"  Who  can  think,  with  common  sense, 
A  smooth-shaved  face  gives  God  offence  ? 
Or  that  a  whisker  hath  a  charm, 
Eternal  justice  to  disarm  ?" 

He  even  proposed  to  him  to  get  shaved.  Keimer 
swore  outright  that  he  would  never  lose  his  beard. 
A  stiff  altercation  ensued.  But  Keimer  getting 
angry,  Ben  agreed  at  last  to  give  up  the  beard.  He 
said  that,  ' '  as  the  beard  at  best  was  but  an  exter- 
nal, a  mere  excrescence,  he  would  not  insist  on 
that  as  so  very  essential.  But  certainly,  sir,"  con- 
tinued he,  ' '  there  is  one  thing  that  is. ' ' 

Keimer  wanted  to  know  what  that  was. 

"  Why,  sir,"  added  Ben,  "this  turning  out  and 
preaching  up  a  new  religion,  is,  without  doubt,  a 
very  serious  affair,  and  ought  not  to  be  undertaken 
too  hastily.  Much  time,  sir,  in  my  opinion  at  least, 
should  be  spent  in  making  preparation,  in  which 
fasting  should  certainly  have  a  large  share." 

Keimer,  who  was  a  great  glutton,  said  he  could 
never  fast. 

Ben  then  insisted  that  if  they  were  not  to  fast 
altogether,  they  ought,  at  any  rate,  to  abstain  from 
animal  food,  and  live  as  the  saints  of  old  did,  on 
vegetables  and  water. 

Keimer  shook  his  head,  and  said  that  if  he  were 
to  live  on  vegetables  and  water  he  should  soon 
die. 

Ben  assured  him  that  it  was  entirely  a  mistake. 


54 


THE  WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


He  had  tried  it  often,  he  said,  and  could  testify 
from  his  own  experience  that  he  was  never  more 
healthy  and  cheerful  than  when  he  lived  on  vege- 
tables alone.  "Die  from  feeding  on  vegetables, 
indeed  !  Why,  sir,  it  contradicts  reason ;  and 
contradicts  all  history,  ancient  and  profane. 
There  was  Daniel,  and  his  three  young  friends, 
Shadrach,  Meshach,  and  Abednego,  who  fed  on  a 
vegetable  diet,  of  choice  ;  did  they  languish  and 
die  of  it  ?  Or  rather  did  the}-  not  display  a  rouge 
of  health  and  fire  of  genius,  far  beyond  those  silly 
youths  who  crammed  on  all  the  luxuries  of  the 
royal  table  ?  And  that  amiable  Italian  nobleman, 
Lewis  Cornaro,  who  says  of  bread,  that  it  was  such 
a  dainty  to  his  palate,  that  he  was  almost  afraid, 
at  times,  it  was  too  good  for  him  to  eat ;  did  he 
languish  and  die  of  this  simple  fare.  On  the  con- 
trary, did  he  not  outlive  three  generations  of  grati- 
fied epicures,  and  after  all  go  off  in  his  second 
century,  like  a  bird  of  Paradise,  singing  the  praises 
of  Temperance  and  Virtue  ?  And  pray,  sir,"  con- 
tinued Ben,  "  where's  the  wonder  of  all  this? 
Must  not  the  blood  that  is  formed  of  vegetables  be 
the  purest  in  nature  ?  And  then,  as  spirits  depend 
on  the  blood,  must  not  the  spirits  secreted  from  such 
blood  be  the  purest  too  ?  And  when  this  is  the 
case  with  the  blood  and  spirits,  which  are  the  very 
life  of  man,  must  not  that  man  enjoy  the  best 
chance  for  such  health}-  secretions  and  circulations 
as  are  most  conducive  to  long  and  happy  life?" 

While  Ben  argued  at  this  rate,  Keimer  regarded 
him  with  a  look  which  seemed  to  say,  '"Very  true, 
sir  ;  all  this  is  very  true,  but  still  I  cannot^  it." 

Ben,  still  unwilling  to  give  up  his  point, 
thought  he  would  make  one  more  push  at  him. 
"  What  a  pity  it  is,"  said  he  with  a  sigh,  "  that 
the  blessings  of  so  sublime  a  religion  should  be  all 
lost  to  the  world,  merely  for  a  lack  of  a  little  for- 
titude on  the  part  of  its  propagators." 

This  was  touching  him  on  the  right  string  ;  for 
Keimer  was  a  man  of  such  vanity,  that  a  little 
flatten'  would  put  him  up  to  anything.  So  after 
a  few  hems  and  ha's,  he  said,  he  believed  he 
would,  at  any  rate,  make  a  trial  of  this  new 
regimen. 

Having  thus  carried  his  point,  Ben  immediately 
engaged  a  poor  old  woman  of  the  neighborhood  to 
become  their  cook  ;  and  gave  her,  off-hand,  written 
receipts  for  three  and  forty  dishes  ;  not  one  of 
which  contained  a  single  atom  of  fish,  flesh,  or 
fowl.     For  their  first  day's  breakfast  on  the  new 


regimen,  the  old  woman  treated  them  with  a  tureen 
of  oatmeal  gruel.  Keimer  was  particularly  fond  of 
his  breakfast,  at  which  a  nice  beefsteak  with  onion 
sauce  was  a  standing  dish.  It  was  as  good  as  a 
farce  to  Ben,  to  see  with  what  an  eye  Keimer  re- 
garded the  tureen,  when,  entering  the  room,  in 
place  of  his  steak,  hot,  smoking,  and  savory,  he 
beheld  this  pale,  meagre-looking  slop. 

"  What  have  you  got  there?"  said  he,  with  a 
visage  grurn,  and  scowling  eye. 

"A  dish  of  hasty  pudding,"  replied  Ben,  with 
the  smile  of  an  innocent  youth  who  had  a  keen 
appetite,  with  something  good  to  satisfy  it ;  "a 
dish  of  nice  hasty  pudding,  sir,  made  of  oats." 

"Of  oats?"  retorted  Keimer,  with  a  voice 
raised  to  a  scream. 

"Yes,  sir,  oats,"  rejoined  Ben  ;  "oats,  that  pre- 
cious grain  which  gives  such  elegance  and  fire  to 
our  noblest  of  quadrupeds,  the  horse. ' ' 

Keimer  growled  out  that  he  was  no  horse  to  eat 
oats. 

"No  matter  for  that,"  replied  Ben,  "  'tis  equally 
good  for  men." 
Keimer  denied  that  any  human  being  ever  ate  oats. 
"Ay  !"  said  Ben,  "  and  pray  what's  become  of 
the  Scotch?  Don't  they  live  on  oats?  And  yet, 
where  will  you  find  a  people  so  '  bonny,  blithe, 
and  gay?'  a  nation  of  such  wits  and  warriors?" 

As  there  was  no  answering  this,  Keimer  sat 
down  to  the  tureen,  and  swallowed  a  few  spoon- 
fuls, but  not  without  making  as  many  wry  faces  as 
if  it  had  been  so  much  jalap  ;  while  Ben,  all  smile 
and  chat,  breakfasted  most  deliriously. 

At  dinner,  by  Ben's  order,  the  old  woman  par- 
aded a  trencher  piled  up  with  potatoes.  Keimer's 
grumbling  fit  came  on  him  again.  "  He  saw  clear 
enough,"  he  said,  "that  he  was  to  be  poisoned." 
"  Poh  !  cheer  up,  man,"  replied  Ben  ;  "  this  is 
your  right  preacher's  bread." 

"  Bread  the  d — 1 !"  replied  Keimer,  snarling. 
"Yes,  bread,  sir,"  continued  Ben,  pleasantly  ; 
"  the  bread  of  life,  sir  ;  for  where  do  you  find  such 
health  and  spirits,  such  bloom  and  beauty,  as 
among  the  honest-hearted  Irish,  and  yet  for  their 
breakfast,  dinner,  and  supper,  the  potato  is  their 
tetotum  ;  the  first,  second,  and  third  course." 

In  this  way  Ben  and  his  old  woman  went  on 
with  Keimer ;  daily  ringing  the  changes  on  oat- 
meal gruel,  roasted  potatoes,  boiled  rice,  and  so 
on,  through  the  whole  family  of  roots  and  grains  in 
all  their  various  genders,  moods,  and  tenses. 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


55 


Sometimes,  like  a  restive  mule,  Keimer  would 
kick  up  and  show  strong  symptoms  of  flying  the 
way.  But  then  Ben  would  prick  him  up  again 
with  a  touch  of  his  ruling  passion,  vanity.  ' '  Only 
think,  Mr.  Keimer,"  he  would  say,  "only  think 
what  has  been  done  by  the  founders  of  ?iew  reli- 
gions :  how  they  have  enlightened  the  ignorant, 
polished  the  rude,  civilized  the  savage,  and  made 
heroes  of  those  who  were  little  better  than  brutes. 
Think,  sir,  what  Moses  did  among  the  stiff-necked 
Jews  ;  what  Mahomet  did  among  the  wild  Arabs ; 
and  what  you  may  do  among  these  gentle  drab- 
coated  Pennsylvanians. ' '  This,  like  a  spur  in  the 
flank  of  a  jaded  horse,  gave  Keimer  a  new  start, 
and  pushed  him  on  afresh  to  his  gruel  breakfasts 
and  potato  dinners.  Ben  strove  hard  to  keep  him 
up- to  this  gait.  Often,  at  table,  and  especially 
when  he  saw  that  Keimer  was  in  good  humor  and 
fed  kindly,  he  would  give  a  loose  rein  to  fancy,  and 
paint  the  advantages  of  their  new  regimen  in  the 
most  glowing  colors.  "  Aye,  sir,"  he  would  say, 
letting  drop  at  the  same  time  his  spoon,  as  in  an 
ecstasy,  of  his  subject,  while  his  pudding  on  the 
platter  cooled,  "  aye,  sir,  now  we  are  beginning  to 
live  like  men  going  a  preaching  indeed.  Let  your 
epicures  gormandize  their  fowl,  fish,  and  flesh, 
with  draughts  of  intoxicating  liquors.  Such  gross, 
inflammatory  food  ma}'  suit  the  brutal  votaries  of 
Mars  and  Venus.  But  our  views,  sir,  are  different 
altogether ;  we  are  going  to  teach  wisdom  and 
benevolence  to  mankind.  This  is  a  heavenly  work, 
sir,  and  our  mind  ought  to  be  heavenly.  Now, 
as  the  mind  depends  greatly  on  the  body,  and  the 
body  on  the  food,  we  should  certainly  select  that 
which  is  of  the  most  pure  and  refining  quality. 
And  this,  sir,  is  exactly  the  food  to  our  purpose. 
This  mild  potato,  or  this  gentle  pudding,  is  the 
thing  to  insure  the  light  stomach,  the  cool  liver, 
the  clear  head,  and  above  all,  those  celestial  pas- 
sions which  become  a  preacher  that  would  moralize 
the  world.  And  these  celestial  passions,  sir,  let 
me  add,  though  I  don't  pretend  to  be  a  prophet, 
these  celestial  passions,  sir,  were  you  but  to 
stick  to  this  diet,  would  soon  shine  out  in  your 
countenance  with  such  apostolic  majesty  and 
grace,  as  would  strike  all  beholders  with  rev- 
erence, and  enable  you  to  carry  the  world  before 
you." 

Such  was  the  style  of  Ben's  rhetoric  with  old 
Keimer.  But  it  could  not  all  do.  For  though 
these  harangues  could  sometimes  make  him  fancy 


himself  as  big  as  Zoroaster  or  Confucius,  and  talk 
as  if  he  should  soon  have  the  whole  country  run- 
ning after  him,  and  worshipping  him  for  the  Great 
Iyama  of  the  west ;  yet  this  divinity  was  too  much 
against  the  grain  to  last  long.  Unfortunately  for 
poor  Keimer,  the  kitchen  lay  between  him  and  his 
bishopric :  and  both  nature  and  habit  had  so 
wedded  him  to  that  swinish  idol,  that  nothing 
could  divorce  him.  So  after  having  been  led  by 
Ben  ' '  a  very  d — /  of  a  life,  "as  he  called  it,  ' '  for 
three  months,"  his  flesh-pot  appetites  prevailed, 
and  he  swore,  ' '  by  his  whiskers,  he  would  suffer  it 
7io  longer. ' '  Accordingly  he  ordered  a  nice  roast 
pig  for  dinner,  and  desired  Ben  to  invite  a  young 
friend  to  dine  with  them.  Ben  did  so  ;  but  neither 
himself  nor  his  young  friend  were  anythfng  the 
better  for  the  pig.  For  before  they  could  arrive, 
the  pig  being  done,  and  his  appetite  beyond  all 
restraint,  Keimer  had  fallen  on  it  and  devoured  the 
whole.  And  there  he  sat  panting  and  torpid  as 
an  anaconda  who  had  just  swallowed  a  young 
buffalo.  But  still  his  looks  gave  sign  that  the 
' '  ministers  of  grace ' '  had  not  entirely  deserted 
him,  for  at  sight  of  Ben  and  his  young  friend,  he 
blushed  up  to  the  eyelids,  and  in  a  glow  of  scarlet, 
which  showed  that  he  paid  dear  for  his  whistle, 
he  apologized  for  disappointing  them  of  their 
dinner.  "  Indeed,  the  smell  of  the  pig,"  he  said, 
"was  so  sweet,  and  the  ni eel}' browned  skin  so 
inviting,  especially  to  him  who  had  been  long 
starved,  that  for  the  soul  of  him  he  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  to  taste  it — and  then,  oh  !  if 
Lucifer  himself  had  been  at  the  door,  he  must 
have  gone  on,  let  what  would  have  been  the  con- 
sequences." He  said,  too,  "  that  for  his  part  he 
was  glad  it  was  a  pig  and  not  a  hog,  for  that  he 
verily  believed  he  should  have  bursted  himself." 
Then  leaning  back  in  his  chair  and  pressing  his 
swollen  abdomen  with  his  paws,  he  exclaimed, 
with  an  awkward  laugh,  "Well,  I  don't  believe  I 
was  ever  cut  out  for  a  bishop  !"  Here  ended  the 
farce  :  for  Keimer  never  after  this  uttered  another 
word  about  his  New  Religion. 

Ben  used,  laughing,  to  say  that  he  drew  Keimer 
into  this  scrape  that  he  might  enjoy  the  satisfac- 
tion of  starving  him  out  of  his  gluttony.  And  he 
did  it  also  that  he  might  save  the  more  for  books 
and  caudles  :  their  vegetable  regimen  costing  him, 
in  all,  rather  less  than  three  cents  a  day  !  To 
those  who  can  spend  twenty  times  this  sum  00 
tobacco  and  whiskey  alone,  three  cents  per  day 


56 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


must  appear  a  scurvy   allowance,  and  of  course 
poor  Ben  must  be  sadly  pitied. 


HOW  WASHINGTON  RECEIVED  THE  NEWS 
OF  THE  SURRENDER  OF  BURGOYNE. 

DURING  that  disastrous  period  of  the  Revolu- 
tion which  succeeded  the_ defeat  of  Wash- 
ington at  Brandywine,  and  his  subsequent  re- 
pulse at  Germantown,  the  excitement  of  the 
public  mind  was  deep  and  anxious,  and  the  spirits 
of  the  whole  nation  seemed  depressed  and  para- 
lyzed by  the  overthrow  of  their  sagacious  leader 
in  two  successive  battles.  The  public  expectation 
was  on  tiptoe  for  every  breath  of  news,  in  hopes 
that  it  might  bring  accounts  of  some  achievement 
which  would  wipe  away  the  stain  of  Brandywine 
and  Germantown,  or  lest  it  should  inform  them  of 
some  equally  disastrous  battle.  Towards  the  close 
of  a  wet,  uncomfortable  day,  a  week  or  two  after 
the  defeat  at  Germantown,  a  horseman,  heavily 
armed,  and  clad  in  a  thick  overcoat,  which  was 
nearly  covered  with  mud,  was  observed  to  ride  up 
from  the  river,  through  the  main  street  of  Easton. 
He  stopped  at  the  first  tavern  in  sight,  and  inquired 
for  the  commanding  officer  of  the  station.  It  was 
presently  noised  through  the  town  that  an  express 
had  arrived,  and  the  citizens  flocked  in  crowds  to 
the  house  of  the  commandant,  to  learn  the  news. 
The  stranger  quickly  informed  him  that  he  carried 
an  express  of  great  importance,  and  that  he  must 
be  immediately  furnished  with  guides  to  conduct 
him  to  the  camp  of  Washington.  Two  trust}'  men 
were  forthwith  selected,  and  just  at  caudle-light 
the  three  started  for  Whitemarsh,  whither  Wash- 
ington had  retreated  after  his  unfortunate  attack 
upon  the  enemy  at  Germantown.  Pursuing  an 
unfrequented  path,  they  were  descending  a  little 
eminence  which  overlooked  the  encampment,  just 
as  the  sun  rose,  after  a  wet  and  fatiguing  ride 
during  the  whole  night. 

As  their  jaded  horses  slowly  descended  the  emi- 
nence, the  bearer  of  the  express  and  his  compan- 
ions could  observe  the  line  of  sentries  pacing  to  and 
fro  upon  the  wet  grass,  some  distance  from  the  tents, 
and  a  few  officers  and  soldiers  performing  their 
morning  ablutions.  Three  horsemen  of  their  mys- 
terious character  were  an  unusual  sight  at  White- 
marsh,  and  the  officers  and  men  regarded  them 
with  fixed  and  anxious  attention.  The  fact  of  their 
approach  was  passed  into  the  tents,  and  a  crowd 
of  officers  and  soldiers  soon  appeared,  all  intently 


watching  their  designs.  As  they  neared  the  sen- 
tries, they  dropped  their  muskets  to  a  charge  and 
bade  them  halt.  An  officer,  approaching  the 
group  at  this  moment,  was  told  by  one  of  the 
guides  in  a  loud  voice  that  they  had  an  express 
for  General  Washington  ;  upon  which  they  were 
instantly  allowed  to  pass.  Their  business  reach- 
ing the  ears  of  the  troops,  an  immense  crowd  was 
soon  collected  around  them,  so  great  as  to  prevent 
their  proceeding  only  at  a  very  slow  pace.  The 
impatience  of  the  troops  to  hear  the  news  could 
not  be  restrained,  and  they  called  loudly  to  be  in- 
formed. An  officer  approached  one  of  the  guides, 
and  putting  his  hand  to  his  mouth,  begged  him, 
for  heaven's  sake,  just  to  tell  him  whether  it  was 
good  or  bad.  The  guide,  who  was  himself  igno- 
rant of  the  news  he  was  carrying,  but  ashamed  to 
let  others  know  it,  put  his  finger  beside  his  nose 
with  a  most  important  manner,  and  gave  the  offi- 
cer a  significant  shake  of  the  head,  by  way  of  re- 
ply, and  which  might  be  safely  interpreted  either 
way.  He  chose  to  receive  it  as  favorable  ;  and, 
pulling  off  his  hat,  gave  three  hearty  cheers, 
which  the  surrounding  troops  immediately  joined 
with  laudable  good-humor — not  one  of  them  know- 
ing what  he  was  cheering  about !  The  noise  reach- 
ing the  ears  of  those  in  tents,  they  too  gave 
three  cheers,  although  no  whit  wiser  than  the 
others,  and  immediately  joined  the  formidable 
cavalcade. 

While  the  express  and  his  guides  were  advanc- 
ing, the  afore-mentioned  officer  hastened  across 
the  fields  to  apprise  Washington  that  an  express 
was  near  at  hand.  When  the  concourse  reached 
his  lodgings,  the  multitude,  dying  with  impa- 
tience to  have  their  curiosity  gratified,  in  their 
eagerness,  tore  the  three  from  their  horses,  and 
bore  them  upon  their  shoulders  up  the  steps  of 
the  house  where  Washington  was  quartered.  At 
that  instant,  the  commander-in-chief  appeared 
from  the  far  end  of  the  entry,  and  beckoned  them 
in.  They  entered  a  spacious  room,  in  which  was 
a  large  table  covered  with  smoking  dishes,  and  to 
which  Washington,  with  all  his  staff,  was  about 
sitting  down  to  breakfast.  The  door  was  in- 
stantly shut,  and  the  bearer  of  the  express 
stepped  forward  to  General  Washington,  informed 
him  that  he  bore  important  despatches,  and  open- 
ing his  coat,  pointed  to  the  left  lapel,  in  which  he 
stated  they  were  concealed.  Instantly  a  dozen 
knives  were  in  operation,  and  in  a  few  moments 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


57 


the  despatches  were  exhibited — leaving  the  poor 
bearer  with  a  ruined  coat  upon  his  back. 

A  stillness,  unbroken  but  by  the  half-sup- 
pressed breathings  of  the  spectators,  succeeded. 
Washington,  seating  himself  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  unfolded  the  mysterious  document,  and 
perused  it  silently.  Not  a  muscle  of  his  noble 
features  moved — but  his  eye  was  seen  to  lighten 
up  a  little.  Around  him  sat  the  flower  of  the 
army — Knox,  Pulaski,  and  Greene,  with  Hamil- 
ton, his  first  aid-de-camp,  on  his  right  hand. 
While  the  general  read  the  paper,  the  impatience 
of  his  officers,  burning  to  be  gratified,  was  with 
the  utmost  difficulty  restrained  ;  yet  a  solemn  and 
death-like  silence  reigned  within  the  room.  At 
the  window  might  be  seen  the  equally  impatient 
troops,  endeavoring  to  catch  some  certain  signal 
from  the  group  within.  When  Washington  had 
finished,  he  turned  to  Hamilton,  and  desired  him 
to  read  the  document  aloud.  Hamilton  began 
with  a  voice  already  thick  with  joy — for  his  quick 
eye  in  an  instant  had  caught  the  contents  of  the 
paper.  But  he  began.  It  was  the  official  report 
from  General  Gates,  communicating  the  original 
intelligence  of  the  total  defeat  and  capture  of  the 
British  army,  commanded  by  Burgoyne,  at  Sara- 
toga! 

When  Hamilton  had  read  merely  enough  to  in- 
form the  company,  the  whole  staff  rose  from  the 
table  with  tears  in  their  eyes,  and  in  the  presence 
of  their  dignified  commander,  gave  three  hearty 
cheers.  Washington,  in  a  voice  made  indistinct 
and  tremulous  with  joy,  commanded  them  to 
order,  which  with  extreme  difficulty  he  succeeded 
in  restoring.  He  then  requested  Hamilton  to  read 
the  whole.  When  he  had  done  so,  the  officers 
again  rose,  and,  in  the  excess  of  their  delight, 
upset  the  table,  stamped  upon  the  dishes  and  un- 
tasted  meats,  and,  in  spite  of  Washington's  re- 
peated calls  to  order,  broke  the  breakfast  table 
and  its  burden  into  atoms. 

Unable  to  restore  silence,  or  careless  to  repress 
the  honest  joy  of  his  friends,  the  general  retired 
with  Hamilton  to  another  room,  to  issue  new  in- 
structions suitable  to  the  emergency.  Meanwhile, 
the  assembled  multitude  at  the  windows,  the  un- 
satisfied spectators  of  these  extravagant  demon- 
strations of  joy,  still  ignorant  of  the  cause, 
renewed  their  shoutings,  and  the  air  rang  with 
the  acclamations  of  five  thousand  veterans,  not  a 
man  of  them  knowing  what  he  was  shouting  for  ! 


When  the  uproar  had  in  a  degree  subsided, 
Washington  returned  to  greet  a  second  time  the 
bearers  of  these  welcome  tidings.  Addressing 
them  with  the  kindest  language,  he  told  them 
they  must  be  wet  and  hungry  from  travelling  all 
night,  and  that  whatever  they  might  wish  should 
be  set  before  them.  One  of  them,  an  honest 
German,  proud  of  the  attention  shown  him  by 
that  noble  man,  replied,  with  his  arms  akimbo, 
and  with  a  consequental  air,  as  if  the  fate  of  the 
nation  depend  upon  what  he  had  for  breakfast, 
"Why,  please  your  excellency,  I'll  have  some 
ham  and  eggs  !  " — and  according  ham  and  eggs 
were  given  to  him.  A  suitable  reward  was  given 
to  the  guides,  one  of  whom  boasted,  as  he  told 
the  story  with  the  tears  in  his  eyes,  that  for  that 
night's  service  he  received  five  pounds  in  hard 
money. 

The  news  was  soon  communicated  to  the  neigh- 
boring detachments  who  were  quartered  in  the 
vicinity,  and  orders  given  to  stop  all  stragglers 
going  in  to  the  enemy,  who  had  then  possession 
of  Philadelphia.  Accordingly,  an  old  woman, 
dressed  as  a  market-woman,  and  bearing  some 
panniers  on  her  horse,  was  stopped  the  same  day 
by  Captain  Craig,  at  Moorstown,  a  few  miles  from 
the  city,  and  examined.  On  taking  off  her  bon- 
net, to  which  she  made  a  stout  resistance,  a  bundle 
was  discovered  in  her  hair.  It  proved  to  be  the 
official  despatches  from  Burgoyne  to  General 
Howe,  informing  him  of  his  disastrous  capture. 
They  had  been  brought  as  far  as  Baskingridge,  in 
Jersey,  by  express,  but,  fearful  of  detection  if 
attempted  to  be  delivered  by  a  man,  were  there 
intrusted  to  a  female  disguised  as  a  market- 
woman.  The  heroine  was  immediately  remounted 
on  her  horse  with  uncomfortable  quickness,  and 
started  off  for  Philadelphia  with  this  satisfactory 
ejaculation,  "  That  as  she  had  such  news  to  take 
General  Howe,  she  might  be  off  with  it  as  soon 
as  she  pleased." 


MARSHAL    NEY'S    DEATH-SCENE. 

THE  vengeance  of  the  Allied  Powers  demanded 
some  victims ;  and  the  intrepid  Ney,  who 
well-nigh  put  the  crown  again  on  Bonaparte's 
head  at  Waterloo,  was  to  be  one  of  them.  Con- 
demned to  be  shot,  he  was  led  to  the  Garden  of 
Luxemburg,  on  the  morning  of  the  7th  of  Decem- 
ber, and  placed  in  front  of  a  file  of  soldiers,  drawn 
up  to  kill  him.     One  of  the  officers  stepped  up  to 


58 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


bandage  his  eyes,  but  he  repulsed  him,  saying, 
' '  Are  you  ignorant  that  for  twenty-five  years  I 
have  been  accustomed  to  face  both  ball  and  bullet  ? ' ' 
He  then  lifted  his  hat  above  his  head,  with  the 
same  calm  voice  that  had  steadied  his  columns  so 
frequently  in  the  roar  and  tumult  of  battle,  said, 
"I  declare,  before  God  and  man,  that  I  never  be- 
trayed my  country ;  may  my  death  render  her 
happy.     Vive  la  France  ! ' '  He  then  turned  to  the 


leon  and  the  enthusiasm  that  hailed  his  approach 
to  Paris.     Still,  he  was  no  traitor. 


J! 


combat  BETWEEN  archers  and  cross-bowmen.     (Accurate  Copy  of  an  Ancient  Engraving.) 


soldiers,  and  striking  his  hand  on  his  heart,  gave 
the  order,  "Soldiers,  fire  !  "  A  simultaneous  dis- 
charge followed,  and  the  "  bravest  of  the  brave  " 
sank  to  rise  no  more.  "He  who  had  fought  five 
hundred  battles  for  France,  not  one  against  her, 
was  shot  as  a  traitor !  "  As  I  looked  on  the  spot 
where  he  fell,  I  could  not  but  sigh  over  his  fate. 
True,  he  broke  his  oath  of  allegiance — so  did 
others,  carried  away  by  their  attachment  to  Xapo- 


BATTLE   OF   CRECY. 

HE  following  description  of  an  incident  in  the 
battle  of  Crecy  occurs  in  Lord  Berners' 
translation  of  the  writings  of  Froissart,  pub- 
lished in  1523  by  order  of  Henry  VIII.  It  is 
doubtless  a  correct  account  of  the  event  described, 

and  certainly 
a  fine  speci- 
men of  vigor- 
ous  English 
of  that  date  : 
When  the 
French  king 
saw  the  Eng- 
lishmen, his 
blood  chang- 
ed, and  (he) 
said  to  his 
mars  halls, 
"Make  the 
Genoese  go 
on  before,  and 
begin  the  bat- 
1 1  e  in  the 
name  of  God 
and  St.  Den- 
is." There 
were  of  the 
Genoese 
cross-bows 
about  a  fif- 
teen thou- 
sand, but  they 
were  so  weary 
of  going  a- 
foot  that  day, 
a  six  leagues, 
armed  with 
their  cross-bows,  that  they  said  to  their  constables, 
"  We  be  not  well  ordered  to  fight  this  clay,  for  we 
be  not  in  the  case  to  do  any  great  deed  of  arms  ; 
we  have  more  need  of  rest."  These  words  came 
to  the  Earl  of  Alengon,  who  said,  "A  man  is  well 
at  ease  to  be  charged  with  such  a  sort  of  rascals, 
to  be  faint  and  fail  now  at  most  need."  Also,  the 
same  season,  there  fell  a  great  rain  and  an  eclipse, 
with  a  terrible  thunder  ;  and  before  the  rain,  there 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


59 


came  flying  over  the  battles  a  great  number  of 
crows  for  fear  of  the  tempest  coming.  Then  anon 
the  air  began  to  wax  clear,  and  the  sun  to  shine 
fair  and  bright,  the  which  was  right  in  the  French- 
men's even,  and  on  the  Englishmen's  back. 
"When  the  Genoese  were  assembled  together,  and 
began  to  approach,  they  made  a  great  leap  and 
cry,  to  abash  the  Englishmen  ;  but  they  stood 
still,  and  stirred  not  for  all  that.  Then  the  Geno- 
ese again  the  second  time  made  another  leap  and 
a  fell  cry,  and  stepped  forward  a  little  ;  and  the 
Englishmen  removed  not  one  foot.  Thirdly  again 
they  leaped  and  cried,  and  went  forth  till  they 
came  within  shot ;  then  they  shot  fiercely  with 
their  cross-bows.  Then  the  English  archers 
stepped  forth  one  pace, 
and  let  fly  their  arrows 
so  wholly  and  thick  that 
it  seemed  snow.  When 
the  Genoese  felt  the  ar- 
rows piercing  through 
heads  and  arms  and 
breasts,  man}'  of  them 
cast  down  their  cross- 
bows, and  did  cut  their 
strings,  and  returned  dis- 
comfited. W hen  the 
French  king  saw  them 
flee  away,  he  said,  "  Slay 
these  rascals,  for  they 
shall  let  and  trouble  us 
without  reason."  Then 
ye  should  have  seen  the 
men-at-arms  dash  in 
among  them,  and  killed 
a  great  number  of  them, 
and  ever  still  the  English- 
men shot  whereas  they  saw  the  thickest  press  ;  the 
sharp  arrows  ran  into  the  men-at-arms  and  into 
their  horses ;  and  many  fell  horse  and  men  among 
the  Genoese  ;  and  when  they  were  down  the}^  could 
not  relieve  again  ;  the  press  was  so  thick  that  one 
overthrew  another.  And  also,  among  the  Eng- 
lishmen, there  were  certain  rascals  that  went  on 
foot  with  great  knives,  and  they  went  in  among 
the  men-at-arms,  and  murdered  many  as  they  lay 
on  the  ground,  both  earls,  barons,  knights,  and 
squires,  whereof  the  King  England  was  after 
displeased,  for  he  had  rather  they  had  taken  pris- 
oners. 


DEATH  OF   LORD  COBHAM. 

IR  JOHN  OLDCASTLE,  Baron  of  Cobham, 
was  born  during  the  reign  of  Edward  III., 
of  England,  and  executed,  in  the  cruel  and  bar- 
barous manner  peculiar  to  those  times,  on  the 
14th  of  December,  1417.  He  was  a  soldier  of 
distinction,  but  having  become  a  convert  to  the 
doctrines  of  Wycliffe,  he  promoted  them  greatlj- ; 
and  when  the  king  remonstrated  with  him  he 
said:  "Next  to  God  I  profess  obedience  to  my 
king;  but  as  to  the  spiritual  dominion  of  the 
Pope,  I  can  pay  him  no  obedience."  He  was 
thereupon  confined  in  the  tower  and  condemned 
to  the  flames,  but  escaped  into  Wales.  A  reward 
of  1000  marks  was  offered  for  his  head,  and  ex- 


Fig  1.  San-benzto.  Garment 
worn  by  those  who  escaped 
burning  by  making  a  confes- 
sion before  being  sentenced. 


COSTUMES   OF   THE   INQUISITION. 

Fig.  2.  Fuego  revollo.  Gar- 
ment worn  by  those  who  es- 
caped being  burnt  alive  by 
making  a  confession  after 
they  had  been  condemned. 


Fig.  3.  Samarra,  Garment 
worn  by  those  who,  refusing 
to  confess,  were  about  to  be 
burnt. 


emption  from  taxes  promised  to  any  town  that 
should  apprehend  him.  After  four  years  he  was 
discovered  and  carried  to  London,  where  he  was 
hanged  in  chains  on  a  gibbet  in  St.  Giles'  field, 
and  roasted  to  death  by  a  fire  kindled  under  him. 
He  was  the  first  martyr  to  his  religious  senti- 
ments among  the  English  nobility.  The  follow- 
ing account  of  his  execution  was  written  by 
Bishop  Bole,  in  1544,  and  strongly  illustrates  the 
barbarism  of  the  times : 

"  Upon  the  day  appointed,  he  was  brought  out 
of  the  tower  with  his  arms  bound  behind  him, 
having  a  very  cheerful  countenance.     Then  was 


60 


THE  WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


lie  laid  upon  an  hurdle,  as  though  he  had  been  a 
most  heinous  traitor  to  the  crown,  and  so  drawn 
forth  into  St.  Giles'  Field,  where  they  had  set  up 
a  new  pair  of  gallows.  As  he  was  corning  to  the 
place  of  execution,  and  was  taken  from  the  hur- 
dle, he  fell  down  devoutly  upon  his  knees,  desir- 
ing Almighty  God  to  forgive  his  enemies.  Then 
stood  he  up  and  beheld  the  multitude,  exhorting 
them  in  most  godly  manner  to  follow  the  laws  of 
God  written  in  the  Scriptures,  and  in  any  wise  to 
beware  of  such  teachers  as  they  see  contrary  to 
Christ  in  their  conversation  and  living,  with 
many  other  special  counsels.  Then  he  was 
hanged  up  there  by  the  middle  in  chains  of  iron, 
and  so  consumed  alive  in  the  fire,  praising  the 
name  of  God,  so  long  as  his  life  lasted.  In  the 
end  he  commended  his  soul  into  the  hand  of 
God,  and  so  departed  hence  most  Christenly,  his 
body  resolved  into  ashes." 


HENRY  VIII.   ENTERTAINED  AT    THE   HOUSE 
OF  CARDINAL  WOLSEY. 

CHE  following  account  of  a  visit  of  Henry 
VIII.  and  a  portion  of  his  court  to  the 
house  of  Cardinal  Wolsey  is  a  splendid  pen-pic- 
ture of  the  style  of  kingly  entertainments  that 
prevailed  in  those  days.  It  is  selected  from  the 
manuscript  Life  of  Cardinal  Wolsey  by  George 
Cavendish,  1557 : 

"And  when  it  pleased  the  king's  majesty,  for 
his  recreation,  to  repair  unto  the  Cardinal's  house, 
as  he  did,  divers  times  in  the  year,  at  which  times 
there  wanted  no  preparations,  or  goodly  furniture, 
with  viands  of  the  finest  sort  that  might  be  pro- 
vided for  money  or  friendship ;  such  pleasures 
were  then  devised  for  the  king's  comfort  and  con- 
solation, as  might  be  invented,  or  by  man's  wit 
imagined.  The  banquets  were  set  forth  with 
masks  and  mummeries,  in  so  gorgeous  a  sort  and 
costly  manner,  that  it  was  a  heaven  to  behold. 
There  wanted  no  dames  or  damsels,  meet  or 
apt  to  dance  with  the  maskers,  or  to  garnish 
the  place  for  the  time  with  other  goodly  dis- 
ports. Then  was  there  all  kinds  of  music 
and  harmony  set  forth,  with  excellent  voices 
both  of  men  and  children.  I  have  .seen  the  king 
suddenly  come  in  thither  in  a  mask,  with  a  dozen 
other  maskers,  all  in  garments  like  shepherds, 
made  of  fine  cloth  of  gold,  and  fine  crimson  satin 
paned,  and  caps  of  the  same,  with  visors  of  good 
proportion  of  visnomy  ;    their  hairs,   and  beards, 


either  of  fine  gold  wire,  or  else  of  silver,  and  some 
being  of  black  silk  ;  having  sixteen  torch-bearers, 
besides  their  drums,  and  other  persons  attending 
upon  them,  with  visors,  aud  clothed  all  in  satin,  of 
the  same  colours.  And  at  his  coming,  and  before 
he  came  into  the  hall,  ye  shall  understand  that  he 
came  by  water  to  the  water-gate,  without  am' 
noise,  where,  against  his  coming,  were  laid  charged 
many  chambers,*  and  at  his  landing  they  were  all 
shot  off,  which  made  such  a  rumble  in  the  air,  that 
it  was  like  thunder.  It  made  all  the  noblemen, 
ladies  and  gentlewomen,  to  muse  what  it  should 
mean  coming  so  suddenly,  they  sitting  quietly  at 
a  solemn  banquet.  *  *  *  Then,  immediately 
after  this  great  shot  of  guns,  the  cardinal  desired  the 
lord  chamberlain  and  comptroller  to  look  what  this 
sudden  shot  should  mean,  as  though  he  knew 
nothing  of  the  matter.  They  thereupon  looking 
out  of  the  windows  into  the  Thames,  returned 
again,  and  showed  him,  that  it  seemed  to  them 
there  should  be  some  noblemen  and  strangers  ar- 
rived at  his  bridge,  as  ambassadors  from  some 
foreign  prince.  *  *  *  'Then,'  quoth  the  car- 
dinal to  my  lord  chamberlain,  'I  pray  you,' 
quoth  he,  '  show  them  that  it  seemeth  to 
me  that  there  should  be  among  them  some 
nobleman,  whom  I  suppose  to  be  much  more 
worthy  of  honor  to  sit  and  occupy  this  room  and 
place  than  I  :  to  whom  I  would  most  gladly,  if  I 
knew  him,  surrender  1113-  place  according  to  my 
duty,'  Then  spake  my  lord  chamberlain  unto 
them  in  French,  declaring  my  lord  cardinal's 
mind  ;  and  they  rouudingf  him  again  in  the  ear, 
my  lord  chamberlain  said  to  my  lord  cardinal, 
'Sir,  they  confess,'  quoth  he,  'that  among  them 
there  is  such  a  noble  personage,  whom  if  your 
grace  can  appoint  him  from  the  others,  he  is  con- 
tented to  disclose  himself,  aud  to  accept  your  place 
most  worthily.'  With  that  the  cardinal,  taking  a 
good  advisement  among  them,  at  the  last,  quoth 
he,  '  Me  seemeth  the  gentleman  with  the  black 
beard  should  be  eveu  he. '  And  with  that  he  arose 
out  of  his  chair,  and  offered  the  same  to  the  gentle- 
man in  the  black  beard,  with  his  cap  in  his 
hand.  The  person  to  whom  he  offered  then 
his  chair  was  Sir  Edward  Neville,  a  comely 
knight  of  a  goodly  personage,  that  much  more  re- 
sembled the  king's  person  in  that  mask  than  any 

*  Short  guns,  or  cannon,  without  carriages;    chiefly 
used  for  festive  occasions. 
f  Whispering. 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


61 


other.  The  king,  hearing  and  perceiving  the 
cardinal  so  deceived  in  his  estimation  and  choice, 
could  not  forbear  laughing  ;  but  plucked  down  his 
visor,  and  Master  Neville's  also,  and  dashed  out 
with  such  a  pleasant  countenance  and  cheer,  that 
all  noble  estates  there  assembled,  seeing  the  king 
to  be  there  amongst  them,  rejoiced  very  much. 
The  cardinal  eftsoons*  desired  his  highness  to  take 
the  place  of  estate,  to  whom  the  king  answered, 
that  he  would  go  first  and  shift  his  apparel ;  and 
so  departed,  and  went  straight  into  my  lord's  bed- 
chamber, where  was  a  great  fire  made  and  prepared 
for  him,  and  there  new  apparelled  him  with  rich 
and  princely  garments.  And  in  the  time  of  the 
king's  absence,  the  dishes  of  the  banquet  were 
clean  taken  up,  and  the  table  spread  again  with 
new  and  sweet  perfumed  cloths  ;  every  man  sitting 
still  until  the  king  and  his  maskers  came  in  among 
them  again,  every  man  being  newly  apparelled. 
Then  the  king  took  his  seat  under  the  cloth  of  es- 
tate, commanding  no  man  to  remove,  but  sit  still, 
as  they  did  before.  Then  in  came  a  new  banquet 
before  the  king's  majesty,  and  to  all  the  rest 
through  the  tables,  wherein,  I  suppose,  were 
served  two  hundred  dishes,  or  above,  of  wondrous 
costly  meats  and  devices,  subtilly  devised.  Thus 
passed  they  forth  the  whole  night  with  banquet- 
ting,  dancing,  and  other  triumphant  devices,  to 
the  great  comfort  of  the  king,  and  pleasant  regard 
of  the  nobility  there  assembled." 


DESCRIPTION  OF  AN  EXECUTION  BY  BURN- 
ING AT  THE  STAKE  DURING  THE  REIGN 
OF  QUEEN  MARY  OF  ENGLAND. 

THIS  description  was  written  by  the  historian, 
John  Fox,  who  was  a  witness  of  the  scene. 
We  copy  it  in  the  original  language  of  the 
author,  peculiar  to  that  period,  because  its  quaint- 
ness  adds  materially  to  the  interest  of  the  recital. 
The  victim,  a  young  man  named  William  Hunter, 
was  only  nineteen  years  of  age,  but  he  seems  to 
have  borne  his  sufferings  with  heroic  fortitude  : 

In  the  first  year  of  Queen  Mary,  William  Hun- 
ter, apprentice  to  a  silk  weaver  in  London,  was 
discharged  from  his  master's  employment,  in  con- 
sequence of  his  refusing  to  attend  mass.  Having 
returned  to  the  house  of  his  father  at  Bruntwood, 
he  attracted  the  attention  of  the  spiritual  authori- 
ties by  his  reading  a  copy  of  the  Scriptures.  He 
was  finally  condemned  to  die  for  heresy. 
*  Immediately. 


In  the  mean  time  William's  father  and  mother 
came  to  him,  and  desired  heartily  of  God  that  he 
might  continue  to  the  end,  in  that  good  way  which 
he  had  begun,  and  his  mother  said  to  him  that  she 
was  glad  that  ever  she  was  so  happy  to  bear  such 
a  child,  which  could  find  in  his  heart  to  lose  his 
life  for  Christ's  name's  sake. 

Then  William  said  to  his  mother,  ' '  For  my 
little  pain  which  I  shall  suffer,  which  is  but  a 
short  braid,  Christ  hath  promised  me,  mother  (said 
he),  a  crown  of  joy  :  may  you  not  be  glad  of 
that,  mother?"  With  that  his  mother  kneeled 
down  on  her  knees,  saying,  "I  pray  God 
strengthen  thee,  my  son,  to  the  end :  yea,  I 
think  thee  as  well-bestowed  as  any  child  that  ever 
I  bare." 

At  the  which  words,  Master  Higbed  took  her  in 
his  arms,  saying,  "I  rejoice  (and  so  said  the 
others)  to  see  you  in  this  mind,  and  you  have  a 
good  cause  to  rejoice."  And  his  father  and 
mother  both  said  that  they  were  never  of  other 
mind,  but  prayed  for  him,  that,  as  he  had  begun 
to  confess  Christ  before  men,  he  likewise  might  so 
continue  to  the  end.  William's  father  said,  "I 
was  afraid  of  nothing,  but  that  my  son  should 
have  been  killed  in  the  prison  for  hunger  and  cold, 
the  bishop  was  so  hard  to  him."  But  William 
confessed,  after  a  month,  that  his  father  was 
charged  with  his  board,  that  he  lacked  nothing, 
but  had  meat  and  clothing  enough,  yea,  even  out 
of  the  court,  both  money,  meat,  clothes,  wood,  and 
coals,  and  all  things  necessary. 

Thus  passing  away  Saturday,  Sunday,  and 
Monday  ;  on  Monday  at  night  it  happened  that 
William  had  a  dream  about  two  of  the  clock  in 
the  morning,  which  was  this  :  how  that  he  was  at 
the  place  where  the  stake  was  pight,  where  he 
should  be  burned,  which  (as  he  thought  in  his 
dream)  was  at  the  town's  end  where  the  butts* 
stood,  which  was  so  indeed  ;  and  also  he  dreamed 
that  he  met  with  his  father  as  he  went  to  the 
stake,  and  also  that  there  was  a  priest  at  the  stake, 
which  went  about  to  have  him  recant.  To  whom 
he  said  (as  he  thought  in  his  dream),  how  that  he 
bad  him  away  false  prophet,  and  how  that  he  ex- 
horted the  people  to  beware  of  him  and  such  as 
he  was,  which  things  came  to  pass  indeed.  It 
happened  that  William  made  a  noise  to  himself  in 
his  dream,  which  caused  M.  Higbed  and  the 
others  to  awake  him  out  of  his  sleep,  to  know 
*  Archery  butts. 


(62) 


THE   BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


63 


what  he  lacked.  When  he  awaked,  he  told  thein 
his  dream  in  order  as  is  said. 

Now  when  it  was  day,  the  sheriff,  M.  Brocket, 
called  on  to  set  forward  to  the  burning  of  William 
Hunter.  Then  came  the  sheriff's  son  to  William 
Hunter,  and  embraced  him  in  his  right  arm,  say- 
ing, "William,  be  not  afraid  of  these  men,  which 
are  here  present  with  bows,  bills,  and  weapons, 
read}7  prepared  to  bring  you  to  the  place  where 
you  shall  be  burned."  To  whom  William  an- 
swered, ' '  I  thank  God  I  am  not  afraid  ;  for  I  have 
cast  my  count,  what  it  will  cost  me,  already." 
Then  the  sheriff's  son  could  speak  no  more  to  him 
for  weeping. 

Then  William  Hunter  plucked  up  his  gown,  and 
stepped  over  the  parlor  grounsel,  and  went  for- 
ward cheerfully,  the  sheriff's  servant  taking  him 
by  one  arm,  and  his  brother  by  another ;  and  thus 
going  in  the  way,  he  met  with  his  father  according 
to  his  dream,  and  he  spake  to  his  son,  weeping, 
and  saying,  "God  be  with  thee,  son  William;" 
and  William  said,  ' '  God  be  with  you,  good  father, 
and  be  of  good  comfort,  for  I  hope  we  shall  meet 
again,  when  we  shall  be  merry."  His  father  said, 
"I  hope  so,  William,"  aud  so  departed.  So 
William  went  to  the  place  where  the  stake  stood, 
even  according  to  his  dream,  whereas  all  things 
were  very  unready.  Then  William  took  a  wet 
broom  faggot,  and  kneeled  down  thereon,  and  read 
the  51st  psalm,  till  he  came  to  these  words,  "The 
sacrifice  of  God  is  a  contrite  spirit ;  a  contrite  aud 
a  broken  heart,  O  God,  thou  wilt  not  despise." 

Then  said  Master  Tyrell  of  the  Bratches,  called 
William  Tyrell,  "Thou  liest,"  said  he;  "thou 
readest  false,  for  the  words  are,  'an  humble 
spirit.'"  But  William  said,  "The  translation 
saith  'a  contrite  heart.'"  "Yea,"  quoth  Mr. 
Tyrell,  "the  translation  is  false;  ye  translate 
books  as  ye  list  yourselves,  like  heretics." 
"Well,"  quoth  William,  "there  is  no  great  dif- 
ference in  those  words."  Then  said  the  sheriff, 
"Here  is  a  letter  from  the  queen:  if  thou  wilt 
recant,  thou  shalt  live ;  if  not,  thou  shalt  be 
burned."  "No,"  quoth  William,  "I  will  not 
recant,  God  willing."  Then  William  rose  and 
went  to  the  stake,  and  stood  upright  to  it.  Then 
came  one  Richard  Pond,  a  bailiff,  and  made  fast 
the  chain  about  William. 

Then  said  Master  Brown,  "Here  is  not  wood 
enough  to  burn  a  leg  of  him."  Then  said  Wil- 
liam, "  Good  people,  pray  for  me  ;  and  make  speed, 


and  dispatch  quickly ;  and  pray  for  me  while  ye 
see  me  alive,  good  people,  and  I  will  pray  for  you 
likewise."  "How  !"  quoth  Master  Brown,  "pray 
for  thee  ?  I  will  pray  no  more  for  thee  than  I  will 
pray  for  a  dog."  To  whom  William  answered, 
"Master  Brown,  now  you  have  that  which  you 
sought  for,  and  I  pray  God  it  be  not  laid  to  your 
charge  in  the  last  day;  howbeit,  I  forgive  you." 
Then  said  Master  Brown,  "I  ask  no  forgiveness 
of  thee."  "Well,"  said  William,  "if  God  for- 
give you  not,  I  shall  require  my  blood  at  your 
hands. ' ' 

Then  said  William,  "Sou  of  God,  shine  upon 
me!"  and  immediately  the  sun  in  the  element 
shone  out  of  a  dark  cloud  so  full  in  his  face,  that 
he  was  constrained  to  look  another  way,  whereat 
the  people  mused,  because  it  was  so  dark  a  little 
time  afore.  Then  William  took  up  a  faggot  of 
broom  and  embraced  it  in  his  arms. 

Then  this  priest  which  William  dreamed  of 
came  to  his  brother  Robert  with  a  book  to  carry 
to  William,  that  he  might  recant,  which  book  his 
brother  would  not  meddle  withal.  Then  William, 
seeing  the  priest,  and  perceiving  how  he  would 
have  showed  him  the  book,  said,  "Away,  thou 
false  prophet !  Beware  of  them,  good  people,  and 
come  away  from  their  abominations,  lest  that  you 
be  partakers  of  their  plagues."  Then  quoth  the 
priest,  ' '  Look  how  thou  burnest  here,  so  shalt 
thou  burn  in  hell."  William  answered,  "Thou 
liest,  thou  false  prophet !  Away,  thou  false 
prophet !  away  ! ' ' 

Then  there  was  a  gentleman  which  said,  "I 
pray  God  have  mere}'  upon  his  soul."  The  people 
said,  "Amen,  Amen." 

Immediately  fire  was  made.  Then  William  cast 
his  psalter  right  into  his  brother's  hand,  who  said, 
"William,  think  on  the  holy  passion  of  Christ, 
and  be  not  afraid  of  death."  And  William  an- 
swered, "lam  not  afraid."  Then  lift  he  up  his 
hands  to  heaven,  and  said,  "Lord,  Lord,  Lord, 
receive  my  spirit !"  And  casting  down  his  head 
again  into  the  smothering  smoke,  he  yielded  up 
his  life  for  the  truth,  sealing  it  with  his  blood  to 
the  praise  of  God. 


ORIGIN  OF  CERTAIN  LEGENDS. 

BEFORE  colleges  were  established  in  the 
monasteries  where  the  schools  were  held, 
the  professors  in  rhetoric  frequently  gave  their 
pupils  the  life  of  some  saint  for  a  trial  of  their 


64 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


talent  at  amplification.  The  students,  being  con- 
stantly at  a  loss  to  furnish  out  their  pages,  in- 
vented most  of  these  wonderful  adventures.  Jortin 
observes,  that  they  used  to  collect  out  of  Ovid, 
Livy,  and  other  pagan  poets  and  historians,  the 
miracles  and  portents  to  be  found  there,  and  ac- 
commodated them  to  their  own  monks  and  saints. 
The  good  fathers  of  that  age,  whose  simplicity 
was  not  inferior  to  their  devotion,  were  so  de- 
lighted with  these  flowers  of  rhetoric,  that  they 
were  induced  to  make  a  collection  of  these  mir- 
aculous compositions ;  not  imagining  that,  at 
some  distant  period,  they  would  become  matters 
of  faith. 

When  the  world  began  to  be  more  critical  in 
their  reading,  the  monks  gave  a  graver  turn  to 
their  narratives  ;  and  became  penurious  of  their 
absurdities.  The  faithful  believers  contend  that 
the  line  of  tradition  has  been  preserved  unbroken  ; 
notwithstanding  that  the  originals  were  lost  in 
the  general  wreck  of  literature  from  the  bar- 
barians, or  came  down  in  a  most  imperfect  state. 

Baronius  has  given  the  lives  of  many  apocry- 
phal saints  ;  for  instance,  of  saint  Xinoris,  whom 
he  calls  a  inartyr  of  Antioch  :  but  it  appears  that 
Baronius  having  read  in  Chrysostom  this  word, 
which  signifies  a  couple  or  pair,  he  mistook  it  for 
the  name  of  a  saint,  and  contrived  to  give  the 
most  authentic  biography  of  a  saint  who  never 
existed !  As  a  specimen  of  the  happier  in- 
ventions, one  is  given,  embellished  by  the  dic- 
tion of  Gibbon — 

The  Legend  of  the  Seven  Sleepers. 

Among  the  legends  of  ecclesiastical  history,  I 
arn  tempted  to  distinguish  the  memorable  fable  of 
the  Seven  Sleepers ;  whose  imaginary  date  cor- 
responds with  the  reign  of  the  younger  Theodo- 
sius,  and  the  conquest  of  Africa  by  the  Vandals. 
When  the  Emperor  Decius  persecuted  the  Chris- 
tians, seven  notable  youths  of  Ephesus  con- 
cealed themselves  in  a  spacious  cavern  on 
the  side  of  an  adjacent  mountain  ;  where  they 
were  doomed  to  perish  by  the  tyrant,  who  gave 
orders  that  the  entrance  should  be  firmly  secured 
with  a  pile  of  stones.  They  immediately  fell  into 
a  deep  slumber,  which  was  miraculously  pro- 
longed without  injuring  the  powers  of  life,  during 
a  period  of  one  hundred  and  eighty-seven  years. 
At  the  end  of  that  time  the  slaves  of  Adolius,  to 
whom  the  inheritance  of  the  mountain  had  de- 
scended, removed  the  stones  to  supply  materials 


for  some  rustic  edifice.  The  light  of  the  sun 
darted  into  the  cavern,  and  the  Seven  Sleepers 
were  permitted  to  awake.  After  a  slumber  as 
they  thought  of  a  few  hours,  they  were  pressed 
by  the  calls  of  hunger  ;  and  resolved  that  Jam- 
blichus,  one  of  their  number,  should  secretly 
return  to  the  city  to  purchase  bread  for  the  use  of 
his  companions.  The  youth,  if  we  may  still 
employ  that  appellation,  could  no  longer  recognize 
the  once  familiar  aspect  of  his  native  country  ; 
and  his  surprise  was  increased  by  tne  appearance 
of  a  large  cross,  triumphantly  erected  over  the 
principal  gate  of  Ephesus.  His  singular  dress 
and  obsolete  language  confounded  the  baker,  to 
whom  he  offered  an  ancient  medal  of  Deeius  as 
the  current  coin  of  the  empire  ;  and  Jamblichus, 
on  the  suspicion  of  a  secret  treasure,  was  dragged 
before  the  judge.  Their  mutual  inquiries  pro- 
duced the  amazing  discover}-,  that  two  centuries 
were  almost  elapsed  since  Jamblichus  and  his 
friends  had  escaped  from  the  rage  of  a  Pagan 
tyrant.  The  bishop  of  Ephesus,  the  clergy,  the 
magistrates,  the  people,  and,  it  is  said,  the  Em- 
peror Theodosius  himself,  hastened  to  visit  the 
cavern  of  the  Seven  Sleepers,  who  bestowed  their 
benediction,  related  their  story  and  at  the  same 
instant  peaceably  expired. 

This  popular  tale  Mahomet  learned  when  he 
drove  his  camels  to  the  fairs  of  Syria  ;  and  he  has 
introduced  it,  as  a  divine  revelation,  into  the 
Koran.  The  same  story  has  been  adopted  and 
adorned,  by  the  nations  from  Bengal  to  Africa, 
who  profess  the  Mahometan  religion. 

Peculiarities  of  Some  of  the  Saints. 

During  the  Dark  Ages  many  saints  obtained 
credit  for  holiness  in  proportion  to  their  lack  of 
cleanliness.  They  did  not  practise  the  maxim 
that  "cleanliness  is  next  to  godliness."  It 
is  said  that  St.  Ignatius  delighted  to  appear 
abroad  with  old  dirt}-  shoes ;  he  never  used  a 
comb,  but  let  his  hair  clot  ;  and  religiously  ab- 
stained from  jiaring  his  nails.  One  saint  attained 
to  such  piety  as  to  have  near  three  hundred 
patches  on  his  breeches  ;  which  after  his  death, 
were  hung  up  in  public  as  an  incentive  to  imi- 
tation. St.  Francis  discovered  by  certain  ex- 
perience, that  the  devils  were  frightened  away 
by  such  kind  of  breeches,  but  were  animated  by 
clean  clothing  to  tempt  and  seduce  the  wearers  ; 
and  one  of  their  heroes  declares  that  the  purest 
souls  are  in  the  dirtiest  bodies.     On  this  they  telJ 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


65 


a  story  which  may  not  be  very  agreeable  to  fas- 
tidious delicacy.  Brother  Juniper  was  a  gentle- 
man perfectly  pious  on  this  principle  ;  indeed  so 
great  was  his  merit  in  this  species  of  mortifica- 
tion, that  a  brother  declared  he  could  always 
nose  Brother  Juniper  when  within  a  mile  of  the 
monastery,  provided  the  wind  was  at  the  due 
point.  Once,  when  the  blessed  Juniper,  for  he 
was  no  saint,  was  a  guest,  his  host,  proud  of  the 
honor  of  entertaining  so  pious  a  personage,  the 
intimate  friend  of  St.  Francis,  provided  an  excel- 
lent bed,  and  the  finest  sheets.  Brother  Juniper 
abhorred  such  luxury.  And  this  too  evidently 
appeared  after  his  sudden  departure  in  the  morn- 
ing unknown  to  his  kind  host.  The  great  Juniper 
did  this,  says  his  biographer,  not  so  much  from 
his  habitual  inclinations,  for  which  he  was  so 
justly  celebrated,  as  from  his  excessive  piety, 
and  as  much  as  he  could  to  mortify  worldly  pride, 
and  to  show  how  a  true  saint  despised  clean 
sheets. 

In  the  life  of  St.  Francis  we  find,  among  other 
miracles,  that  he  preached  a  sermon  in  a  desert, 
but  he  soon  collected  an  immence  audience. 
The  birds  warbled  to  every  sentence,  and 
stretched  out  their  necks,  opened  their  beaks,  and 
when  he  finished,  dispersed  with  a  holy  rapture 
into  four  companies,  to  report  his  sermon  to  all 
the  birds  in  the  universe.  A  grasshopper  re- 
mained a  week  with  St.  Francis  during  the  ab- 
sence of  the  Virgin  Mary,  and  pittered  on  his 
head.  He  grew  so  companionable  with  a  night- 
ingale, that  when  a  nest  of  swallows  began  to 
babble,  he  hushed  them  by  desiring  them  not  to 
tittle-tattle  of  their  sister,  the  nightingale.  At- 
tacked by  a  wolf,  with  only  the  sign  manual  of 
the  cross,  he  held  a  long  dialogue  with  his  rabid 
assailant,  till  the  wolf,  meek  as  a  lapdog, 
stretched  his  paws  in  the  hands  of  the  saint, 
followed  him  through  towns,  and  became  half  a 
Christian. 

This  same  St.  Francis  had  such  a  detestation  of 
the  good  things  of  this  world,  that  he  would  never 
suffer  his  followers  to  touch  money.  A  friar  hav- 
ing placed  in  a  window  some  money  collected  at 
the  altar,  he  desired  him  to  take  it  in  his  mouth, 
and  throw  it  on  the  manure  pile.  St.  Philip 
Nerius  was  such  a  lover  of  poverty  that  he  fre- 
quently prayed  that  God  would  bring  him  to  that 
state  as  to  stand  in  need  of  a  penny,  and  find  no-' 
body  that  would  give  him  one  ! 
5 


It  is  said  that  Saint  Macairie  was  so  shocked  at 
having  killed  a  louse,  that  he  endured  seven  years 
of  penitence  among  the  thorns  and  briars  of  a 
forest. 

Many  absurdities  similar  to  these  are  still  prac- 
tised by  the  religious  devotees  of  Mohammedan 
and  other  semi-civilized  countries,  but  happily 
they  have  disappeared  before  the  advancing  light 
of  knowledge  and  true  religion  in  all  Christian 
nations  ;  and  they  are  now  worthy  of  notice  only 
as  relics  of  a  past  age. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  TALMUD. 

THF  Talmud  is  a  collection  of  Jewish  tradi- 
tions, which  have  been  orally  preserved.  It 
comprises  the  Mishna,  which  is  the  text, 
and  the  Gejiara,  its  commentary.  The  whole 
forms  a  complete  system  of  learning,  ceremonies, 
civil  and  canon  laws  of  the  Jews  ;  treating  indeed 
on  all  subjects  ;  even  gardening,  manual  arts,  etc. 
The  rigid  Jews  persuaded  themselves  that  these 
traditional  explications  are  of  divine  origin.  The 
Pentateuch,  say  they,  was  written  out  by  their  le- 
gislator before  his  death  in  thirteen  copies,  distri- 
buted among  the  twelve  tribes,  and  the  remaining 
one  deposited  in  the  ark.  The  oral  law  Moses 
continually  taught  in  the  Sanhedrim,  to  the  elders 
and  the  rest  of  the  people.  The  law  was  repeated 
four  times ;  but  the  interpretation  was  delivered 
only  by  word  of  mouth  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion. In  the  fortieth  year  of  the  flight  from  Egypt, 
the  memory  of  the  people  became  treacherous,  and 
Moses  was  constrained  to  repeat  this  oral  law, 
which  had  been  conveyed  by  successive  tradition- 
ists.  Such  is  the  account  of  honest  David  Levi : 
it  is  the  creed  of  every  rabbi. 

This  history  of  the  Talmud  some  are  inclined  to 
suppose  apocryphal,  even  among  a  few  of  the  Jews 
themselves. 

The  closest  investigation  has  never  been  able  to 
determine  when  these  traditions  first  appeared.  It 
cannot  be  denied  that  there  existed  traditions  among 
the  Jews  in  the  time  of  Christ.  About  the  second 
century  they  were  industriously  collected  by  Rab- 
bi Juda,  the  holy,  the  prince  of  the  rabbins,  who 
enjoyed  the  favor  of  Antoninus  Pius.  He  has  the 
merit  of  giving  some  order  to  this  very  multifari- 
ous collection. 

It  appears  that  the  Talmud  was  compiled  by 
certain  Jewish  doctors,  who  were  selected  for  this 
purpose   by  their  nation,   that  they  might  have 


66      THE  WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


something  to  oppose  to  their  Christian  adversaries. 
There  are  two  Talmuds  :  the  Jerusalem  and  the 
Babylonian.  The  last  is  the  most  esteemed,  be- 
cause it  is  the  most  bulky. 

R.  Juda,  the  prince  of  the  rabbins,  committed 
to  writing  all  these  traditions,  and  arranged  them 
under  six  general  heads,  called  orders  or  classes. 
The  subjects  are  indeed  curious  for  philosophical 
inquirers,  and  multifarious  as  the  events  of  civil 
life.  Even-  order  is  formed  of  treatises  :  every 
treatise  is  divided  into  chapters,  even-  chapter  into 
mishnas,  which  word  means  mixtures  or  miscel- 
lanies, in  the  form  of  aphorisms.  In  the  first  part 
is  discussed  what  relates  to  seeds,  fruits,  and  trees  ; 
in  the  second,  feasts ;  in  the  third,  women,  their 
duties,  their  disorders,  marriages,  divorces,  con- 
tracts, and  nuptials ;  in  the  forth  are  treated  the 
damages  or  losses  sustained  by  beasts  or  men  ;  of 
things  found  ;  deposits  ;  usuries  ;  rents  ;  farms  ; 
partnerships  in  commerce  ;  inheritance  ;  sales  and 
purchases  ;  oaths  ;  witnesses  ;  arrests  ;  idolatry  ; 
and  here  are  named  those  by  whom  the  oral  law 
was  received  and  preserved.  In  the  fifth  part  are 
noticed  sacrifices  and  holy  things  ;  and  the  sixth 
treats  of  purifications,  vessels,  furniture,  clothes, 
houses,  leprosy,  baths,  and  numerous  other  arti- 
cles.    All  this  forms  the  MlSHNA. 

The  Gejiara,  that  is,  the  complement,  or  per- 
fection, contains  the  disputes  and  the  opinions  of 
the  rabbins  on  the  oral  traditions.  It  must  be 
confessed  that  absurdities  are  sometimes  eluci- 
dated by  other  absurdities ;  but  there  are  many 
admirable  things  in  this  vast  repository.  The 
Jews  have  such  veneration  for  this  compilation, 
that  the}-  compare  the  hoi}-  writings  to  water,  and 
the  Talmud  to  wine  ;  the  text  of  Moses  to  pepper, 
but  the  Talmud  to  aromatics.  Of  the  twelve 
hours  of  which  the  day  is  composed,  they  tell  us 
that  God  employs  nine  to  study  the  Talmud,  and 
only  three  to  read  the  written  law  ! 

The  antiquity  of  this  work  is  of  itself  sufficient 
to  make  it  curious  ;  but  it  is  full  of  absurdities  and 
old  wives'  tales.  In  illustration  of  this,  we  quote 
some  of  its  rides.  No  beast  could  be  "convicted  " 
of  being  vicious  until  evidence  was  given  that  he 
had  done  mischief  three  successive  days  ;  if  he  left 
off  his  vicious  tricks  for  three  days  more,  he  was 
innocent.  An  ox  might  be  convicted  of  goring 
an  ox  and  not  a  man,  or  of  goring  a  man  and  not 
an  ox  ;  or  of  goring  on  the  Sabbath  and  not  a  work- 
ing day.     In  short,  they  ' '  fitted  the  punishment 


to  the  crime,"  and  vicious  oxen  had  to  be  very 
careful  how  and  when  they  performed  their  evil 
deeds.  The  people  were  forbidden  to  touch  fire 
on  the  Sabbath  da}-,  which  seems  like  a  useless 
enactment,  as  the  natural  sense  of  feeling  doubt- 
less taught  them  that  it  was  dangerous  to  handle 
fire  an}-  da}-  in  the  week.  A  minister  was  not 
allowed  to  read  by  lamp-light,  lest  he  should  trim 
his  lamp  ;  but  he  might  direct  his  pupils  where 
to  read,  because  in  doing  so  he  wrould  not  need  to 
trim  his  lamp.  If  a  man  swore  he  would  eat  no 
bread,  and  then  ate  all  kinds  of  bread,  he  was 
released  from  his  oath  ;  but  if  he  swore  that  he 
would  eat  neither  wheat,  barley  nor  rye  bread, 
the  perjury  was  multiplied  in  proportion  as  he  ate 
of  the  several  sorts.  The  Pharisees  and  Saddu- 
cees  had  strong  differences  about  touching  the 
holy  writings  with  their  hands.  The  doctors 
ordained  that  whoever  touched  the  book  of  the 
law  must  not  eat  of  the  truma  (first-fruits  of  the 
wrought  produce  of  the  ground)  till  they  had 
washed  their  hands.  The  reason  they  gave  was 
this  :  In  times  of  persecutions  they  used  to  hide 
the  sacred  books  in  secret  places,  where  it  was 
possible  that  they  might  be  gnawed  by  mice.  The 
hands  then  that  touched  these  books  were  reason- 
ably enough  supposed  to  be  unclean,  so  far  as  to 
disable  them  from  eating  the  truma  until  they 
were  washed.  On  that  account  they  made  it  a 
rule  that  if  any  part  of  the  Bible  (except  Ecclesi- 
astes,  which  they  regarded  as  less  holy  than  the 
rest),  or  their  phylacteries,  or  the  strings  of  their 
phylacteries,  were  touched  by  one  who  had  a 
right  to  eat  the  truma,  he  should  not  eat  till  he 
had  washed  his  hands. 

Jesus  reproaches  the  Pharisees  in  Matthew  xv. 
and  Mark  vii.  for  flagrantly  violating  the  fifth 
commandment,  by  allowing  the  vow  of  a  son,  per- 
haps made  in  hasty  auger,  its  full  force  when  he 
had  sworn  that  his  father  should  never  be  the  bet- 
ter for  him  or  anything  he  had,  and  by  which  an 
indigent  father  might  be  suffered  to  starve.  There 
is  a  case  in  point  in  the  Talmud,  under  the  head 
of  vows,  and  the  story  ma}-  amuse  the  reader.  A 
man  made  a  vow  that  his  father  should  not  profit 
by  him.  The  man  afterward  made  a  wedding- 
feast  for  his  own  son,  and  wished  that  his  father 
should  be  present,  but  he  could  not  invite  him  on 
account  of  his  vow.  But  he  invented  this  expe- 
dient :  he  made  a  gift  of  the  court  in  which  the 
feast  was  to  be  kept,  and  of  the  feast  itself,  to  a 


(67) 


OS 


THE   WONDERFUL.  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


third  person  in  trust,  and  arranged  that  his  father 
should  be  invited  b}-  this  third  person.  When  all 
was  arranged  the  latter  said,  ' '  These  things  that 
you  thus  give  rne  are  mine,  I  will  dedicate  them 
to  God,  and  then  none  of  you  can  be  the  better  for 
them."  The  son  replied,  "  I  did  not  give  them  to 
you  that  you  should  consecrate  them."  "  Yours 
was  no  donation,"  replied  the  other,  but  only  an 
arrangement  whereby  you  could  eat  and  drink 
with  your  father  without  breaking  your  oath." 
The  matter  was  finally  taken  before  the  rabbins, 
who  decreed  that  a  gift  which  ma}*  not  be  conse- 
crated by  the  person  to  whom  it  is  given  is  not  a 
gift,  and  so  the  property  was  restored  to  the  right- 
ful owner,  who  by  this  circumlocution  had  suc- 
ceeded in  entertaining  his  father  without  violating 
his  oath. 

The  following  extract  from  the  Talmud  exhi- 
bits a  subtle  mode  of  reasoning  adopted  b}T  the 
Jews  when  the  learned  of  Rome  sought  to  per- 
suade them  to  conform  to  their  idolatry  : 

"Some  Roman  senators  examined  the  Jews  in 
this  manner :  If  God  had  no  delight  in  the  wor- 
ship of  idols,  why  did  he  not  destroy  them  ?  The 
Jews  made  answer  :  If  men  had  worshipped  only 
things  of  which  the  world  had  no  need,  he 
would  have  destroyed  the  objects  of  their  wor- 
ship ;  but  they  also  worship  the  sun  and  moon, 
stars  and  planets ;  and  then  he  must  have 
destroyed  his  world  for  the  sake  of  these  deluded 
men.  But  still,  said  the  Romans,  wiry  does  not 
God  destroy  the  things  which  the  world  does  not 
want,  and  leave  those  things  which  the  world 
cannot  be  without !  Because,  replied  the  Jews, 
this  would  strengthen  the  hands  of  such  as  wor- 
ship these  necessary  things,  who  would  then  say, 
Ye  allow  now  that  these  are  gods,  since  they  are 
not  destroyed." 

Stories  from  the  Talmud. 

The  Talmud  contains  a  vast  collection  of  stories, 
apologues  and  jests;  main-  display  a  vein  of  pleas- 
antry, and  at  times  have  a  wildness  of  invention 
which  sufficiently  marks  the  features  of  an  eastern 
parent.  Many  extravagantly  puerile  were  designed 
merely  to  recreate  their  young  students.  When  a 
rabbin  was  asked  the  reason  of  much  nonsense,  he 
replied  that  the  ancients  had  a  custom  of  introduc- 
ing music  in  their  lectures,  which  accompani- 
ment made  them  more  agreeable  ;  but  that  not 
having  musical  instruments  in  the  schools,  the 
rabbins  invented  these  strange  stories  to  arouse 


attention.  This  was  ingeniously  said,  but  they 
make  miserable  work  when  they  pretend  to  give 
mystical  interpretations  to  pure  nonsense. 

Among  other  stories  is  the  following  account  of 
a  dangerous  adventure  into  which  King  David 
was  drawn  by  the  devil : 

King  David's  Adventure  with  the  Devil. 

The  king  one  day  hunting,  Satan  appeared 
before  him  in  the  likeness  of  a  foe.  David  dis- 
charged an  arrow  at  him,  but  missed  his  aim. 
He  pursued  the  feigned  roe  into  the  land  of  the 
Philistines.  Ishbi,  the  brother  of  Goliath,  in- 
stantly recognized  the  king  as  him  who  had  slain 
that  giant.  He  bound  him  and  bended  him  neck 
and  heels,  and  laid  him  under  a  wine-press  in 
order  to  press  him  to  death.  A  miracle  saves 
David.  The  earth  beneath  him  became  soft,  and 
Ishbi  could  not  press  wine  out  of  him.  That 
evening  in  the  Jewish  congregation  a  dove,  whose 
wings  were  covered  with  silver,  appeared  in  great 
perplexity,  and  evidently  signified  that  the  King  of 
Israel  was  in  trouble.  Abishai,  one  of  the  king's 
counsellors,  inquiring  for  the  king,  and  finding 
him  absent,  is  at  a  loss  to  proceed,  for,  according 
to  the  Mishna,  no  one  may  ride  on  the  king's 
horse,  nor  sit  upon  his  throne,  nor  use  his  sceptre. 
The  school  of  the  rabbins,  however,  allowed  these 
things  in  time  of  danger.  On  this  Abishai  vaults 
on  David's  horse,  and  (with  an  Oriental  meta- 
phor) the  land  of  the  Philistines  leaped  to  him 
instantly  !  Arrived  at  Ishbi's  house,  he  beholds 
his  mother  Orpa  spinning.  Perceiving  the  Israel- 
ite, she  snatched  up  her  spinning-wheel  and  threw 
it  at  him  to  kill  him  ;  but  not  hitting  him,  she 
desired  him  to  bring  the  spinning-wheel  to  her. 
He  did  not  do  this  exactly,  but  returned  it  to  her 
in  such  a  way  that  she  never  asked  any  more  for 
her  spinning-wheel.  When  Ishbi  saw  this,  and 
recollecting  that  David,  though  tied  up  neck  and 
heels,  was  still  under  the  wine-press,  he  cried  out, 
' '  There  are  now  two  who  will  destroy  me  !  "  So 
he  threw  David  high  up  into  the  air,  and  stuck 
his  spear  into  the  ground,  imagining  that  David 
would  fall  upon  it  and  perish.  But  Abishai  pro- 
nounced the  magical  name,  which  the  Talmudists 
frequently  made  use  of,  and  it  caused  David  to 
hover  between  heaven  and  earth,  so  that  he  fell 
not  down !  Both  at  length  unite  against  Ishbi, 
and  observing  that  two  young  lions  should  kill 
one  lion,  find  no  difficulty  in  getting  rid  of  the 
brother  of  Goliath. 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


69 


The  Death  of  Moses. 

When  Moses,  the  faithful  sen-ant  of  God,  was 
to  die  and  his  hour  approached,  the  Lord  assem- 
bled his  angels  and  said,  "  It  is  time  to  recall  the 
soul  of  my  messenger ;  who  among  you  will  go 
and  summon  her  to  come  into  my  presence  ? ' ' 
Then  the  princes  of  the  angelic  host,  Michael  and 
Gabriel,  and  all  who  stood  before  the  throne  of 
the  Lord,  implored  and  said,  "Let  us  not  go,  for 
he  has  been  our  teacher."  But  Samael,  the 
leader  of  the  rebellious  angels,  stood  forth  and 
said,  ' '  Behold  here  am  I,  send  me. ' ' 

And  God  sent  him. 

He  descended  in  wrath,  wielding  the  flaming 
sword  in  his  right  hand,  rejoicing  beforehand  at 
the  agony  of  the  death  throe  of  the  righteous. 
But  when  he  came  nearer  he  beheld  the  face  of 
Moses,  ' '  his  eyes  were  not  dim  nor  his  natural 
force  abated."  The  servant  of  the  Lord  was 
writing  the  words  of  his  last  song  ;  his  counte- 
nance was  resplendent,  radiant  with  the  peace  and 
brightness  of  heaven. 

The  enemy  of  mankind  stood  abashed ;  his 
sword  dropped  out  of  his  hand  and  he  hurried 
away.  "  I  cannot  bring  the  soul  of  this  man,"  he 
said  to  the  Lord,  "for  in  him  I  have  found 
nothing  impure." 

And  the  Lord  descended  to  summon  the  soul  of 
his  faithful  and  beloved  servant.  Michael  and 
Gabriel  and  the  host  of  angels  that  stood  before 
him  followed  in  his  train.  They  prepared  Moses' 
bier  and  surrounded  it,  and  the  voice  was  heard, 
"Fear  not;  I  myself  will  bun-  thee."  Then 
Moses  prepared  himself  to  die  and  sanctified  him- 
self. And  the  Lord  called  unto  his  soul  and  said, 
"My  daughter  !  One  hundred  and  twenty  years 
is  the  term  allotted  for  thy  inhabiting  my-  ser- 
vant's earthly  tenement.  The  time  is  expired; 
come  forth,  and  tarry  not." 

And  the  soul  of  Moses  answered  and  said,  ' '  O 
Lord  of  the  universe  !  I  know  that  thou  art  God, 
the  sovereign  Ruler  of  all  spirits  and  of  all  souls, 
and  that  the  living  and  the  dead  are  alike  in  thy 
hand.  From  thee  I  received  thy  glorious  law  ;  I 
saw  thee  in  the  flame ;  girt  with  thy  power,  I 
entered  the  palace  of  Egypt's  king ;  I  took  the 
crown  from  off  the  head  of  the  proud  Pharaoh  and 
did  manifold  signs  and  wonders  in  his  land.  I 
led  forth  thy  people  and  parted  the  sea,  and  I 
have  made  known  thy  will  unto  the  sons  of  man. 
I  dwelt  beneath  the  throne  of  thy  glory ;  my  tent 


was  under  the  pillar  of  fire,  and  I  have  spoken  to 
thee  face  to  face,  as  a  man  speaketh  with  his 
friend.  And  is  not  all  this  enough  for  me? 
Receive  me,  therefore,  for  now  I  come  to  thee." 

The  breath  of  the  Most  High  touched  the  lips 
of  Moses,  whose  soul  departed  in  the  touch.  So 
Moses  died  at  the  mouth  of  God,  and  the  Eternal 
buried  him,  and  "no  man  knoweth  of  his  sepul- 
chre unto  this  day." 

Solomon's  Strange  Adventure  with  the  Devil. 

Of  Solomon,  another  favorite  hero  of  the  Tal- 
mudists,  a  fine  Arabian  story  is  told.  The  king 
was  an  adept  in  necromancy,  and  a  male  and 
female  devil  were  always  in  waiting  for  any  emer- 
gency. It  is  obsen-able  that  the  Arabians,  who 
have  many  stories  concerning  Solomon,  always 
describe  him  as  a  magician.  His  adventures  with 
Aschmedai,  the  prince  of  devils,  are  numerous ; 
and  they  both  (the  king  and  the  devil)  sen-ed  one 
another  many  a  slippery  trick.  One  of  the  most 
remarkable  is  when  Aschmedai,  who  was  pris- 
oner to  Solomon,  the  king  having  contrived  to 
possess  himself  of  the  devil's  seal-ring,  and  chained 
him,  one  day  offered  to  answer  an  unholy  ques- 
tion put  to  him  by  Solomon,  provided  he  returned 
him  his  seal-ring  and  loosened  his  chain.  The 
impertinent  curiosity  of  Solomon  induced  him  to 
commit  this  folly.  Instantly  Aschmedai  swal- 
lowed the  monarch,  and  stretching  out  his  wings 
up  to  the  firmament  of  heaven,  one  of  his  feet 
remaining  on  the  earth,  he  spit  out  Solomon  four 
hundred  leagues  from  him.  This  was  done  so  pri- 
vately that  no  one  knew  anything  of  the  matter. 
Aschmedai  then  assumed  the  likeness  of  the  king, 
and  sat  on  his  throne.  From  that  hour  did  Solo- 
mon say,  "  This,  then,  is  the  reward  of  all  my 
labor, ' '  according  to  Ecclesiasticus  i.  3  ;  which 
this  means,  one  rabbin  says,  his  walking  staff,  and 
another  insists  was  his  ragged  coat.  For  Solo- 
mon went  a  begging  from  door  to  door,  and 
wherever  he  came  he  uttered  these  words,  "I,  the 
preacher,  was  king  over  Israel  in  Jerusalem. ' '  At 
length  coming  before  the  council,  and  still  repeat- 
ing these  remarkable  words  without  addition  or 
variation,  the  rabbins  said,  ' '  This  means  some- 
thing ;  for  a  fool  is  not  constant  in  his  tale  ! ' '  They 
asked  the  chamberlain  if  the  king  frequently  saw 
him,  and  he  replied  to  them,  No  !  Then  they 
sent  to  the  queens  to  ask  if  the  king  came  into 
their  apartments,  and  they  answered,  Yes !  The 
rabbins   then    sent   them   a   messenger    to    take 


70 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


notice  of  his  feet,  for  the  feet  of  devils  are  like  the 
feet  of  cocks.  The  queens  acquainted  them  that 
his  majesty  always  came  in  slippers,  but  forced 
them  to  embraces  at  times  forbidden  by  the  law. 


Abraham  dismissing  hagar.     (From  the  Painting  by  Van  Dyck.) 


He  had  attempted  to  lie  with  his  mother  Bath- 
sheba,  whom  he  had  almost  torn  to  pieces.  At 
this  the  rabbins  assembled  in  great  haste,  and 
taking  the  beggar  with  them,  they  gave  him  the 
ring  and  the  chain  in  which   the  great  magical 


name  was  engraved,  and  led  him  to  the  palace. 
Aschmedai  was  sitting  on  the  throne  as  the  real 
Solomon  entered  ;  but  instantly  he  shrieked  and 
flew   away.      Yet  to  his  last  day  was   Solomon 

afraid  of  the 


prince  of  dev- 
ils, and  had  his 
bed  guarded  by 
the  valiant  men 
of  Israel,  as  is 
written  in  Cant, 
iii.  7,  8. 

Abraham's  Strat- 
agem to  Save 
Sarah. 

Abraham,  so 
say  the  stories 
of  the  Talmud, 
was  jealous  of 
his  wives,  and 
built  an  en- 
chanted city  for 
them.  He  built 
an  iron  city  and 
put  them  in  it. 
The  walls  were 
so  high  and 
dark  the  sun 
could  not  be 
seen  in  it.  He 
gave  them  a 
bowl  full  of 
pearls  and  jew- 
els, which  sent 
forth  a  light  in 
this  dark  city 
equal  to  the 
sun.  Noah,  it 
seems,  when  in 
the  ark  had  no 
other  light  than 
jewels  and 
pearls.  Abra- 
ham, in  trav- 
elling to  Egypt, 
brought  with 
him  a  chest.  At  the  custom-house  the  offi- 
cers exacted  the  duties.  Abraham  would  have 
readily  paid,  but  desired  they  would  not  open  the 
chest.  They  first  insisted  on  the  duty  for  clothes, 
which  Abraham  consented  to  pay  ;  but  then  they 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


71 


thought  by  his  ready  acquiescence  that  it  might 
be  gold.  Abraham  consents  to  pay  for  gold. 
They  now  suspected  it  might  be  silk.  Abraham 
was  willing  to  pay  for  silk,  or  more  costly  pearls  ; 
and  he  generously  consented  to  pay  as  if  the  chest 
contained  the  most  valuable  of  things.  It  was 
then  they  resolved  to  open  and  examine  the  chest. 
And  behold  as  soon  as  it  was  opened,  that  great 
lustre  of  human  beauty  broke  out  which  made 
such  a  noise  in  the  land  of  Egypt ;  it  was  Sarah 
herself!  The  jealous  Abraham,  to  conceal  her 
beauty,  had  locked  her  up  in  this  chest. 

The  Four  Wicked  Judges  of  Sodom. 

Some  of  the  stories  ot  the  Talmud  display  con- 
siderable humor  in  their  inventions,  as  in  the  fol- 
lowing account  of  the  manners  and  morals  of  the 
infamous  town  of  Sodom  : 

There  were  in  Sodom  four  judges,  who  were 
liars,  and  deriders  of  justice.  When  any  one  had 
Struck  his  neighbor's  wife  and  caused  her  to  mis- 
carry, these  judges  thus  counselled  the  husband  : 
"Give  her  to  the  offender,  that  he  may  get  her 
with  child  for  thee. ' '  When  any  one  had  cut  oft 
an  ear  of  his  neighbor's  ass,  they  said  to  the 
owner,  ' '  L,et  him  have  the  ass  till  the  ear  is 
grown  again,  that  it  may  be  returned  to  thee  as 
thou  wishest. ' '  When  any  one  had  wounded  his 
neighbor,  they  told  the  wounded  man  to  ' '  give 
him  a  fee  for  letting  him  blood. ' '  A  toll  was  ex- 
acted in  passing  a  certain  bridge  ;  but  if  any  one 
chose  to  wade  through  the  water,  or  walk  round 
about  to  save  it,  he  was  condemned  to  a  double 
toll.  Eleasar,  Abraham's  servant,  came  thither, 
and  they  wounded  him.  When  before  the  judge 
he  was  ordered  to  pay  his  fee  for  having  his  blood 
let,  Eleazar  flung  a  stone  at  the  judge  and 
wounded  him  ;  on  which  the  judge  said  to  him, 
"  What  meaneth  this ?  "  Eleasar  replied,  "Give 
him  who  wounded  me  the  fee  that  is  due  to  my- 
self for  wounding  thee. ' '  The  people  of  this  town 
had  a  bedstead,  on  which  they  laid  travellers  who 
asked  to  rest.  If  any  one  was  too  long  for  it, 
they  cut  off  his  legs  ;  and  if  he  was  shorter  than 
the  bedstead,  they  stretched  him  to  its  head  and 
foot.  When  a  beggar  came  to  this  town  every 
one  gave  him  a  penny,  on  which  was  inscribed 
the  donor's  name  ;  but  they  would  sell  him  no 
bread  nor  let  him  escape.  When  the  beggar  died 
from  hunger,  then  they  came  about  him,  and 
each  man  took  back  his  penny.  These  stories  are 
curious  inventions  of  keen  mockery  and  malice, 


seasoned  with  humor.  It  is  said  some  of  the 
famous  decisions  of  Sancho  Panza  are  to  be  found 
in  the  Talmud. 

Some  of  the  fancies  in  these  Talmudic  stories 
strongly  resemble  those  of  the  Arabian  Nights,  as, 
for  instance,  the  following  accounts  of  certain 
large  birds,  a  flock  of  fat  geese,  manna  in  the 
wilderness,  and  a  judgment  that  came  upon  Titus 
for  his  blasphemy  of  the  God  of  Israel : 

A  certain  bird  was  so  large  that  when  it  spread 
its  wings  it  blotted  out  the  sun. 

An  egg  from  another  fell  out  of  its  nest,  and  the 
white  thereof  broke  and  glued  about  three  hun- 
dred cedar- Lrees  and  overflowed  a  village.  One  of 
them  stands  up  to  the  lower  joint  of  the  leg  in  a 
river,  and  some  mariners,  imagining  the  water 
was  not  deep,  were  hasting  to  bathe,  when  a 
voice  from  heaven  said,  "Step  not  in  there,  for 
seven  years  ago  a  carpenter  dropped  his  axe,  and 
it  hath  not  yet  reached  the  bottom. ' ' 

'  'A  rabbin  once  saw  in  a  desert  a  flock  of  geese 
so  fat  that  their  feathers  fell  off,  and  the  rivers 
flowed  in  fat.  Then  said  I  to  them,  shall  we  have 
part  of  you  in  the  other  world  when  the  Messiah 
shall  come  ?  And  one  of  them  lifted  up  a  wing, 
and  another  a  leg,  to  signify  these  parts  we  should 
have.  We  should  otherwise  have  had  all  parts 
of  these  geese  ;  but  we  Israelites  shall  be  called  to 
an  account  touching  these  fat  geese,  because  their 
sufferings  are  owing  to  us.  It  is  our  iniquities 
that  have  delayed  the  coming  of  the  Messiah,  and 
these  geese  suffer  greatly  b}'  reason  of  their  exces- 
sive fat,  which  daily  and  daily  increases,  and  will 
increase  till  the  Messiah  comes  ! ' ' 

What  the  manna  was  which  fell  in  the  wilder- 
ness has  often  been  disputed,  and  still  is  disput- 
able. It  was  sufficient  for  the  rabbins  to  have 
found  in  the  Bible  that  the  taste  of  it  was  "  as  a 
wafer  made  with  honey,"  to  have  raised  their 
fancy  to  its  highest  pitch.  They  declare  it  was  ' '  like 
oil  to  children,  honey  to  old  men,  and  cakes  to  mid- 
dle age. ' '  It  had  every  kind  of  taste  except  that 
of  cucumbers,  melons,  garlic,  and  onions,  and 
leeks  ;  for  these  were  those  Egyptian  roots  which 
the  Israelites  so  much  regretted  to  have  lost. 
This  manna  had,  however,  the  quality  to  accom- 
modate itself  to  the  palate  of  those  who  did  not 
murmur  in  the  wilderness,  and  to  these  it  became 
fish,  flesh  or  fowl. 

Their  detestation  of  Titus,  their  great  con- 
queror, appears  by  the  following  wild  invention. 


THE  OUEEN  OF  SHEBA.     (From  the  Painting  by  Cooniaus 


THE  BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


73 


After  having  narrated  certain  things,  too  shameful 
to  read,  of  a  prince  whom  Josephus  describes  in 
far  different  colors,  they  tell  us  that  on  sea  Titus 
tauntingly  observed  in  a  great  storm  that  the  God 
of  the  Jews  was  only  powerful  on  the  water,  and 
that  therefore  he  had  succeeded  in  drowning  Pha- 
raoh and  Sisera.  "  Had  he  been  strong  he  would 
have  waged  war  with  me  in  Jerusalem."  On 
uttering  this  blasphemy  a  voice  from  heaven  said, 
"Wicked  man!  I  have  a  little  creature  in  the 
world  which  shall  wage  war  with  thee  ! ' '  When 
Titus  landed,  a  gnat  entered  his  nostrils,  and  for 
seven  years  together  made  holes  in  his  brains. 
When  his  skull  was  opened  the  gnat  was  found 
as  large  as  a  pigeon  ;  the  mouth  of  the  gnat  was 
of  copper  and  the  claws  of  iron. 

Solomon  and  the  Queen  of  Sheba. 

We  close  these  Talmudic  stories  with  the 
following,  about  Solomon  and  the  Queen  of 
Sheba : 

The  power  of  the  monarch  had  spread  his  wis- 
dom to  the  remotest  part  of  the  known  world. 
The  Queen  of  Sheba,  attracted  by  the  splendor  of 
his  reputation,  visited  this  poetical  king  at  his 
own  court ;  there,  one  day  to  exercise  the  sagaci- 
ty of  the  monarch,  Sheba  presented  herself  at  the 
throne  ;  in  each  hand  she  held  a  wreath  ;  the  one 
was  composed  of  natural,  the  other  artificial  flow- 
ers. Art,  in  the  labor  of  the  mimetic  wreath,  had 
exquisitely  emulated  the  living  hues  of  nature  ; 
so  that  at  the  distance  it  was  held  by  the  queen 
for  the  inspection  of  the  king,  it  was  deemed  im- 
possible for  him  to  decide,  as  her  question  im- 
ported, which  wreath  was  the  production  of  na- 
ture, and  which  the  work  of  art.  The  sagacious 
Solomon  seemed  perplexed  ;  yet  to  be  vanquished, 
though  in  a  trifle,  by  a  woman,  irritated  his  pride. 
The  son  of  David,  he  who  had  written  treatises 
on  the  vegetable  productions  ' '  from  the  cedar  to 
the  hyssop,"  to  acknowledge  himself  outwitted  by 
a  woman,  with  shreds  of  paper  and  glazed  paint- 
ings !  The  honor  of  the  monarch's  reputation  for 
divine  sagacity  seemed  diminished,  and  the  whole 
Jewish  court  looked  solemn  and  melancholy.  At 
length,  an  expedient  presented  itself  to  the  king  ; 
and  it  must  be  confessed  worthy  of  the  naturalist. 
Observing  a  cluster  of  bees  hovering  about  a  win- 
dow, he  commanded  that  it  should  be  opened  ; 
it  was  opened  ;  the  bees  rushed  into  the  court, 
and  alighted  immediately  on  one  of  the  wreaths, 
while  not  a  single  one  fixed  on  the  other.     The 


baffled  Sheba  had  one  more  reason  to  be  astonished 
at  the  wisdom  of  Solomon. 


TRIALS    AND    PROOFS    OF    GUILT   IN    SUPER- 
STITIOUS AGES. 

THE  strange  trials  to  which  those  suspected 
of  guilt  were  put  in  the  middle  ages,  con- 
ducted with  many  devout  ceremonies,  by 
the  ministers  of  religion,  were  pronounced  to  be  the 
judgments  of  God  !  The  ordeal  consisted  of  vari- 
ous kinds ;  walking  blindfold  amidst  burning 
ploughshares  ;  passing  through  fires  ;  holding  in 
the  hand  a  red-hot  bar  ;  and  plunging  the  arm  into 
boiling  water  ;  the  popular  affirmation — ' '  I  will 
put  my  hand  into  the  fire  to  confirm  this,"  ap- 
pears to  be  derived  from  this  solemn  custom  of 
our  rude  ancestors.  Challenging  the  accuser 
to  single  combat,  when  frequently  the  stoutest 
champion  was  allowed  to  supply  their  place  ; 
swallowing  a  morsel  of  consecrated  bread  ;  sink- 
ing or  swimming  in  a  river  for  witchcraft ;  or 
weighing  a  witch  ;  stretching  out  the  arms  before 
the  cross,  till  the  champion  soonest  wearied 
dropped  his  arms,  and  lost  his  estate,  which  was 
decided  by  this  very  short  chancery  suit,  called  the 
indicium  cruris.  The  bishop  of  Paris  and  the 
abbot  of  St.  Denis  disputed  about  the  patronage 
of  a  monastery  ;  Pepin  the  Short,  not  being  able 
to  decide  on  their  confused  claims,  decreed  one  of 
these  judgments  of  God,  that  of  the  cross.  The 
bishop  and  abbot  each  chose  a  man,  and  both  the 
men  appeared  in  the  chapel,  where  they  stretched 
out  their  arms  in  the  form  of  a  cross.  The  specta- 
tors, more  devout  than  the  mob  of  the  present  day, 
but  still  a  mob,  were  piously  attentive,  but  betted 
however,  now  for  one  man,  now  for  the  other,  and 
critically  watched  the  slightest  motion  of  the 
arms.  The  bishop's  man  was  first  tired — he  let 
his  arm  fall,  and  ruined  his  patron's  cause  forever  ! 
Though  sometimes  these  trials  might  be  eluded 
by  the  artifice  of  the  priest,  numerous  were  the  in- 
nocent victims  who  unquestionably  suffered  in 
these  superstitious  practices. 

In  the  tenth  century  the  right  of  representation 
was  not  fixed  ;  it  was  a  question,  whether  the 
sons  of  a  son  ought  to  be  reckoned  among  the 
children  of  the  family';  and  succeed  equally  with 
their  uncles,  if  their  fathers  happened  to  die  while 
their  grandfather  survived.  This  point  was  de- 
cided by  one  of  these  combats.  The  champion 
in  behalf  of   the  right  of  children   to   represent 


74 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND   7H3 


SELF-CRUCIEIXION   AS   AN    EVIDENCE  OF   INNOCENCE. 


their  deceased 
father  proved 
victorious.  It 
was  then  estab- 
lished by  a  per- 
petual decree 
that  they  should 
henceforward 
share  in  the  in- 
heritance, to- 
gether with  their 
uncles.  In  the 
eleventh  cen- 
tury the  same 
mode  was  prac- 
tised to  decide 
respecting  two 
rival  Liturgies  f 
Two  knights, 
clad  in  complete 
armor,  were  the 
critics  to  decide 
which  was  the 
authentic  and 
true  liturgy. 

If  two  neigh- 
bors disputed  re- 
specti  ug  the 
boundaries  o  f 
their  possessions, 
a  piece  of  turf  of 
the  contested 
land  was  dug  up 
by  the  judge  and 
brought  by  him 
into  the  court, 
and  the  two  par- 
ties touched  it 
with  the  points 
of  their  swords, 
calling  on  God 
as  a  witness  of 
their  claims- 
after  this  the 
combat  decided 
their  rights  ! 

In  these  times 
those  who  were 
accused  of  rob- 
bery were  put  to 
trial  by  a   piece 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S  HISTORY. 


75 


of  barley-bread,  on  which  the  mass  had  been  said  ; 
and  if  they  could  not  swallow  it  they  were  declared 
guilty.  This  mode  of  trial  was  improved  by  adding 
to  the  bread  a  slice  of  cheese ;  and  such  were  their 
credulity  and  firm  dependence  on  Heaven  in 
these  ridiculous  trials,  that  they  were  very  parti- 
cular in  this  holy  bread  and  cheese,  called  the 
cbrsned.  The  bread  was  to  be  of  unleavened 
barley,  and  the  cheese  made  of  ewe's  milk  in  the 
month  of  May. 

Du  Cange  observes  that  the  expression — ' '  May 
this  piece  of  bread  choke   me!"  comes   from   this 


if  the  slightest  change  was  observable  in  the  eyes, 
the  mouth,  the  feet,  or  hands  of  the  corpse,  the 
murderer  was  conjectured  to  be  present,  and  many 
innocent  spectators  must  have  suffered  death ; 
"for  when  a  body  is  full  of  blood,  warmed  by  a 
sudden  external  heat  and  a  putrefaction  coming 
on,  some  of  the  blood-vessels  will  burst,  as  they 
will  all  in  time."  This  practice  was  once  allowed 
in  England,  and  is  still  looked  on  in  some  of  the 
uncivilized  parts  of  those  kingdoms  as  a  detection 
of  the  criminal.  It  forms  a  rich  picture  in  the 
imagination  of  our  old  writers  ;  and  their  histories 


SINGLE  combat  TO  be  decided  by  The  judgment  OF  GOD.     (A  Manuscript  of  the  Fifteenth  Century.) 


custom.  The  anecdote  of  Earl  Godwin's  death 
by  swallowing  a  piece  of  bread,  in  making  this 
asseveration,  is  recorded  in  our  history.  If  it  be 
true,  it  was  a  singular  misfortune. 

Amongst  the  proofs  of  guilt  in  superstitious  ages 
was  that  of  the  bleeding  of  a  corpse.  If  a  person 
was  murdered,  it  was  believed  that  at  the  touch  or 
approach  of  the  murderer  the  blood  gushed  out  of 
the  body  in  various  parts.    By  the  side  of  the  bier, 


and  ballads  are  labored  into  pathos  by  dwelling  on 
this  phenomenon. 

Strange  to  say,  this  species  of  superstition  was 
at  one  period  admitted  as  evidence  in  the  Scottish 
criminal  courts.  The  following  incredible  instance 
was  communicated  to  Sir  Walter  Scott,  and  is 
given  in  his  "  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border  :" 

"  Two  young  men,  going  a  fishing  in  the  River 
Yarrow,  fell  out,  and  so  high  ran  the  quarrel  that 


76      THE  WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


the  one  in  a  passion  stabbed  the  other  to  the  heart. 
Astounded  at  the  rash  act,  he  hesitated  whether 
to  fly,  give  himself  up  to  justice,  or  conceal  the 
crime  ;  and  in  the  end,  fixed  on  the  latter  expe- 
dient, burying  the  body  of  his  friend  very  deep 
in  the  sands.  As  the  meeting  had  been  acciden- 
tal, he  was  never  suspected,  although  a  visible 
change  was  observed  in  his  behavior,  from  gayety 
to  a  settled  melancholy.  Time  passed  on  for  the 
space  of  fifty  years,  when  a  smith,  fishing  near 
the  same  place  discovered  an  uncommon  and  curi- 
ous bone,  which  he  put  in  his  pocket,  and  after- 
wards showed  to  some  people  in  his  smithy.  The 
murderer  being  present,  now  an  old  white-headed 
man,  leaning  on  his  staff,  desired  a  sight  of  the 
little  bone  ;  but  how  horrible  was  the  issue  ! — no 
sooner  had  he  touched  it,  than  it  streamed  with 
purple  blood.  Being  told  where  it  was  found,  he 
confessed  the  crime,  was  condemned,  but  was  pre- 
vented by  death  from  suffering  the  punishment 
due  to  his  crime." 

We  need  only  add,  that  no  evidence  is  given  of 
the  truth  of  this  improbable  tale,  and  it  is  utterly 
unworthy  of  belief. 


blood-caked  knife  in  his  hand.  The  lions  were 
disembowelled.  Ever  after,  Silverheels  was 
known  as  tne  bravest  of  the  brave,  for  he  told  no 
one  that  the  lions  were  dead  (through  fright) 
before  he  butchered  them. 


HOW  AN  INDIAN  COWARD    WON  A  REPUTA- 
TION   FOR   BRAVERY. 

O  ILYERHEELS  was  known  all  through  the 
V^  Land  of  Flowers  as  the  greatest  coward  in 
the  Seminole  tribe.  He  was  condemned  by 
even  the  meanest  squaw  in  the  Everglades. 
Osceola,  being  the  bravest  warrior  in  the  Indian 
Nation,  was  the  onty  one  that  thought  of,  and 
looked  upon  him  with  pity  unmixed  with  con- 
tempt. In  spite  of  the  youth  and  great  beauty  in 
face  and  form  of  Silverheels,  there  was  no  woman 
in  the  tribe  who  cared  to  call  him  husband.  He 
was  a  man  apart.  Now  and  then  Osceola  would 
speak  kindl}'  to  him,  and  try  to  make  redder  his 
heart  by  courageable  words,  for  Osceola  knew 
that  Silverheels  could  no  more  help  being  a 
coward  than  Osceola  could  help  being  the  daunt- 
less man  he  was.  One  night  the  tropical  sky 
split  into  fragments,  and  through  the  rents  in 
heaven  fell  forks,  lances  and  sheets  of  lightning, 
cataracts  of  rain,  and  all  of  the  million  thunder- 
bolts from  gigantic  Jove's  armory.  The  storm 
raged  all  night.  In  the  morning  the  dilapidated 
tribe  looked  upon  a  dilapidated  village  and  forest, 
and  upon  Silverheels  lying  near  two  enormous 
mountain  lions   bathed   in    blood,    with  a   lone: 


SINGULAR  FACTS  ABOUT  THE  COMPUTATION 
OF  TIME. 

THE  extra  day  given  to  the  month  of  February 
every  four  years,  except  the  centennial  years 
of  time,  and  to  these  if  they  are  divisible  by 
400,  dates  back  to  the  time  of  Julius  Caesar,  who 
first  noticed  that  twelve  lunar  months  were  not 
quite  enough  to  constitute  a  solar  year,  while 
thirteen  were  too  many.  Julius  also  noted  the 
fact  that  365  days  were  not  enough  for  the  year, 
and  that  366  exceeded  what  the  calendar  called 
for.  Caesar  corrected  this  error  b)-  constituting 
every  fourth  year  to  consist  of  366  days,  and  the 
others  of  365  each ;  the  long  or  leap  year  was 
always  known  to  be  an  exact  multiple  of  four. 
This  calendar  was  called  the  Julian,  and  the  mode 
of  reckoning  "old  style."  This  was  quite  an 
improvement  on  the  old  }rear,  as  it  got  within 
eleven  minutes  of  the  real  period.  When  Gregory 
became  Pope  in  the  sixteenth  century  it  was  found 
that  the  simple  error  of  eleven  minutes  each  year 
had  put  time  ahead  ten  whole  days  and  nights  in 
the  comparatively  short  period  of  sixteen  centu- 
ries. In  order  to  get  rid  of  this  error,  Gregory 
had  ten  days  taken  out  of  October,  reckoning  the 
5th  as  the  15th.  Still,  there  was  that  eleven 
minutes  overplus.  To  get  rid  of  this  it  was 
agreed  that  there  should  be  no  February  29th  in 
centennial  years  unless  the  year  is  divisible  by 
400.  According  to  this  plan  everything  is  so 
evenly  poised  that  there  will  not  be  an  error  of 
one  whole  day  until  the  time  wdien  you  begin  to 
date  your  letters  5448. 


NAPOLEON  AT  THE  BATTLE  OF  EYLAU. 

y*HE  battle  of  Eylau  was  fought  February  7th 
W  and  8th,  1S07,  between  the  French  under 
Napoleon,  and  the  combined  Russian  and 
Prussian  armies.  The  French  had  85,000  men 
and  350  cannons,  while  the  opposing  armies  were 
75,000  strong  and  460  guns.  Nearly  40,000  were 
killed  and  wounded,  and  both  sides  claimed  the 
victory.  During  a  critical  period  of  the  battle, 
Napoleon  was   about   to  be   made  prisoner,  but 


THE  WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND  THE 


saved  himself  by  his  presence  of  mind  and  the 
heroism  of  his  bodyguard  of  ioo  men. 

The  following  account  of  this  great  battle  is  from 
Guizot's  "  History  of  France  :" 

' '  Long  before  the  dawn  of  a  slowly  breaking 
and  cloudy  day,  Napoleon  was  already  in  the 
streets,  establishing  his  guard  in  the  cemetery  of 
Eylau,  and  ordering  his  line  of  battle.  The  for- 
midable artillery  of  the  Russians  covered  their 
two  hues  ;  presently  the  shells  fired  the  town  of 
Eylau  and  the  village  of  Rothenen,  which  pro- 
tected a  division  of  Marshal  Soult.  The  two 
armies  remained  immovable  in  a  rain  of  cannon 
balls.  The  Russians  were  the  first  to  move  for- 
ward, in  order  to  attack  the  mill  of  Eylau ;  '  they 
were  impatient  at  suffering  so  much,'  says  the 
fifty-eighth  bulletin  of  the  grand  army.  Nearly 
at  the  same  moment  the  corps  of  Marshal  Davout 
arrived ;  the  Emperor  had  him  supported  by 
Marshal  Augereau.  The  snow  fell  in  thick 
masses,  obscuring  the  view  of  the  soldiers ;  the 
troops  of  Augereau  turned  swiftly  to  the  left, 
decimated  by  the  Russian  artillery.  The  Marshal 
himself,  already  ill  before  the  battle,  was  struck 
by  a  ball.  The  officers  were  nearly  all  wounded. 
The  Emperor  called  Murat :  '  Wilt  thou  let  us 
be  annihilated  by  these  people  ?'  The  cavalry  shot 
immediately  in  advance  ;  only  the  imperial  guard 
remained  massed  round  Napoleon. 

"In  a  moment  Murat  had  routed  the  Russian 
centre,  but  already  the  battalions  were  reforming. 
Marshal  Soult  defended  with  difficulty  the  posi- 
tions of  Eylau ;  Davout  maintained  a  furious 
struggle  against  the  left  wing  of  the  Russians  ;  the 
Prussians,  preceding  by  one  hour  Marshal  Ney, 
who  had  been  pursuing  them  for  several  days, 
made  [their  appearance  on  the  battle-field.  The 
dead  and  dying  formed  round  the  Emperor  a 
ghastly  rampart ;  gloom}'  and  calm  he  contem- 
plated the  attack  of  the  Prussians  and  Russians 
united,  in  great  numbers,  and  pressing  upon  Mar- 
shal Davout.  The  latter  glanced  along  the  ranks 
of  his  troops  :  '  The  cowards  will  go  to  die  in  Sibe- 
ria,' said  he,  'the  brave  will  die  here  like  men  of 
honor. '  The  effort  of  the  enemy  died  out  against 
the  heroic  resistance  of  the  French  divisions,  who 
maintained  their  positions. 

"  Night  was  falling  :  the  carnage  was  horrible. 
In  spite  of  the  serious  advantage  of  the  French 
troops,  General  Benningsen  was  preparing  to  at- 


tempt a  new  assault,  when  he  learned  the  ap- 
proach of  Marshal  Ney,  who  was  debouching  to- 
wards Althof.  The  bad  weather  and  the  distance 
retarded  the  effects  of  the  combinations  of  the  em- 
peror. He  had  caused  much  blood  to  be  spilt : 
victory,  however,  remained  with  him ;  the  Rus- 
sians and  the  Prussians  were  decidedly  beating  a 
retreat.  The  French  remained  masters  of  this 
most  sanguinary  battle-field,  destitute  of  provi- 
sions, without  shelter,  in  the  wet  and  cold.  Marshal 
Ney,  who  had  taken  no  part  in  the  action,  to 
which,  however,  he  assured  success,  surveyed  the 
plain,  covered  with  corpses  and  inundated  with 
blood.  ' '  He  turned  away  from  the  hideous  specta- 
cle," says  M.  de  Fezensac,  "crying,  'What  a 
massacre,  and  without  result ! '  "  The  Russians 
had  retreated  behind  the  Pregel  to  cover  Konigs- 
berg.  Napoleon  re-entered  his  cantonments.  He 
established  his  headquarters  at  a  little  town  of 
Osterode,  directing  from  this  advanced  post  the 
works  of  defence  on  the  Vistula  and  Passarge,  at 
the  same  time  as  the  preparations  for  the  siege  of 
Dantzig.  On  arriving  there  he  wrote  to  King 
Joseph  :  ' '  Staff-officers,  colonels,  officers,  have 
not  undressed  for  two  months,  and  a  few  of  them 
not  for  four  ;  have  myself  been  fifteen  days  with- 
out taking  off  my  boots.  We  are  in  the  midst  of 
snow  and  mud,  without  wine,  without  brandy, 
without  bread,  eating  potatoes  and  meat,  making 
long  marches  and  countermarches,  without  any- 
thing to  sweeten  existence,  and  fighting  at  bayo- 
net-point and  under  showers  of  grape-shot,  the 
wounded  very  often  obliged  to  be  removed  on  a 
sledge  for  fifty  leagues  in  the  open  air.  After  hav- 
ing destroyed  the  Prussian  monarch}-,  we  are 
making  war  against  the  remnants  of  Prussia, 
against  the  Russians,  the  Calmucs,  the  Cossacks, 
and  the  peoples  of  the  north  who  formerly  invaded 
the  Roman  Empire  ;  we  are  making  war  in  all  its 
energy  and  all  its  horror."  Such  vigorous  lan- 
guage was  not  permitted  to  all.  ' '  The  gloomy 
pictures  that  we  have  drawn  of  our  situation," 
wrote  Napoleon  to  Fouche  on  April  13th,  "  have 
for  authors  a  few  gossips  of  Paris,  who  are  simply 
blockheads.  Never  has  the  position  of  France 
been  grander  or  finer.  As  to  Eylau,  I  have  said 
and  resaid,  that  the  bulletin  exaggerated  the  loss  ; 
and,  for  a  great  battle,  what  are  2000  men  slaii? 
There  were  none  of  the  battles  of  Louis  XIV.  or 
Louis  the  XV.  which  did  not  cost  more.     When 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


79 


I  led  back  my  army  to  France  and  across  the 
Rhine,  it  will  be  seen  that  there  are  not  many 
wanting  at  the  roll-call." 


THE  IRON   MASK. 

THE  "  Man  in  the  Iron  Mask"  is  one  of  the 
insolvable  mysteries  of  history.  Voltaire 
first  gave  shape  to  the  story  of  the  mask,  and 
since  that 
time  numerous 
attempts  have 
been  made  to 
establish  the 
identity  of  the 
unfortunate 
prisoner,  but 
invariably 
without  suc- 
cess. The  facts 
established  by 
history  are  as 
follows : 

"On  Thurs- 
day, Septem- 
ber 18,  1698, 
a  mysterious 
prisoner  was 
committed  to 
the  Bastile,  in 
Paris,  having 
been  brought 
thither  from 
the  Island  of 
St.  Marguer- 
ite, by  Saint- 
Mars,  who  in 
that  year  ex- 
changed the 
governorship 
of  the  state 
prison  in  that 
place  for  that 
of  the  Bastile. 

The  prisoner  was  carried  in  a  close  litter,  which  pre- 
ceded that  of  the  governor,  and  was  accompanied 
by  a  mounted  guard.  His  face  was  covered  with 
a  black  velvet  mask,  fastened  with  steel  springs, 
which  he  was  forbidden  to  remove  on  pain  of  in- 
stant death .  He  was  confined  in  one  of  the  dun- 
geons of  the  Bastile,  a  place  of  horrors,  and  fit 
only  for  the  breeding  of  vermin  and  poisonous  va- 


pors. These  dungeons  were  located  in  the  towers, 
the  walls  of  which,  at  the  base,  were  from  thirty 
to  forty  feet  in  thickness.  Each  cell  had  an  aper- 
ture in  the  wall,  defended  by  iron  gratings,  the 
bars  of  which  were  an  inch  thick,  and  so  arranged 
that  only  two  inches  of  space  were  left  unob- 
structed. The  dungeons  were  nineteen  feet  below 
the  level  of  the  court-yard,  and  five  below  that  of 


Ml 

v ''■•■' 1181 

VWmBt 


THE   MAN   IN   THE   IRON    MASK. 


the  ditch  surrounding  the  walls  of  the  Bastile, 
with  no  opening  to  admit  air  and  light  except  the 
grated  window  just  described,  which  opened  not 
into  the  sunlight  and  pure  air  of  the  outside  world, 
but  into  the  poisonous  and  filthy  ditch.  In  such 
a  place  as  this  the  unfortunate  prisoner  remained 
for  a  little  over  five  years,  when  death  came  to  his 
relief,  November  19,  1703.      During  the  time  of 


80 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND  THE 


his  imprisonment  he  was  not  allowed  to  speak  to 
any  one  except  the  governor,  who  watched  him 
with  a  jealous  care  and  always  kept  a  pair  of 
loaded  pistols  within  reach  to  destroy  him  in  case 
he  made  an  effort  to  reveal  himself.  The  governor 
attended  him  at  his  meals  and  his  toilet,  and  per- 
sonally removed  and  examined  the  linen  which 
he  had  worn,  lest  he  might  make  known  his  secret 
by  means  of  some  mark  upon  it.  At  mass  he  was 
forbidden  to  speak  or  remove  his  mask,  the  guards 
who  attended  him  with  loaded  muskets  having 
strict  orders  to  shoot  him  instantly  if  he  made  the 
attempt.  After  his  death  he  was  buried  in  the 
cemetery  of  St.  Paul,  and  everything  which  he 
had  used  or  worn  was  burned.  This  incident  oc- 
curred dining  the  reign  of  Eouis  XIV.  Numer- 
ous theories  have  been  advanced  as  to  the  identity 
of  the  mysterious  prisoner,  but  no  satisfactory  so- 
lution has  ever  been  reached.  He  was  doubtless 
some  influential  person,  possessed  of  a  dangerous 
state  secret,  which  the  king  and  his  advisers 
thought  best  to  bury  with  him  in  the  living  tomb 
of  the  Bastile." 


ANECDOTES     OF      SOME     GREAT     MEN     AND 
THEIR    AMANUENSES. 

IT  is  said  of  Julius  Cresar  that,  while  writing  a 
dispatch  he  could,  at  the  same  time,  dictate 
four  others  to  his  secretaries,  and,  if  he  did 
not  write  himself,  could  dictate  seven  letters  at 
once.  The  same  thing  is  asserted  of  the  Emperor 
Napoleon,  who  had  a  wonderful  capacity  of  direct- 
ing his  whole  mental  energy  to  whatever  came  be- 
fore him. 

At  Marengo,  whilst  Napoleon  reconnoitred  the 
enemy's  movements,  and  gave  his  orders  in  writ- 
ing, a  cannon-ball  struck  the  officer  to  whom  he 
was  dictating,  and  threw  him  mutilated  on  the 
ground.  Napoleon  ordered  another  secretary — 
he  came.  At  the  moment  when  Napoleon  re- 
sumed his  dispatch,  the  wounded  man  raised 
himself.  "General!"  said  he,  in  a  dying  voice 
— "General — we  stopped  there."  And  he  re- 
peated the  last  words  that  Napoleon  had  dictated. 

Marshal  Junot  was  originally  a  private  soldier, 
and,  being  a  good  penman,  he  was  frequently  em- 
ployed in  the  writing  of  dispatches.  On  one  oc- 
casion he  was  ordered  to  write  a  letter  at  the  dic- 
tation of  an  officer.  Junot  was  seated  in  an  ex- 
posed situation,  and,  just  as  he  had  finished  the 
letter,  a  shell  burst,  and  ahnost  buried  this  intrepid 


soldier  with  earth.  "In  very  good  time,"  ex- 
claimed Junot ;  ' '  we  wanted  some  sand  ! ' '  The 
officer  was  Napoleon,  aud  this  circumstance  oc- 
casioned Junot's  advancement. 

Goldsmith's  Failure  at  Dictating. 
A  voluminous  author  was  one  day  expatiating 
on  the  advantages  of  employing  an  amanuensis, 
and  thus  saving  the  time  and  trouble  of  writing. 
"How  do  you  manage  it,"  said  Goldsmith. 
"Why,  I  walk  about  the  room  and  dictate  to  a 
clever  man,  who  puts  down  very  correctly  all  that 
I  tell  him,  so  that  I  have  nothing  to  do,  more  than 
just  look  over  the  manuscript,  and  then  send  it  to 
the  press."  Goldsmith  was  delighted  with  the 
plan,  for  his  love  of  labor  was  not  one  of  his  dis- 
tinguishing characteristics,  and  he  desired  his 
friend  to  send  the  amanuensis  to  him  the  next 
morning.  The  scribe  accordingly  waited  upon 
the  author  with  his  implements  of  pens,  ink  and 
paper,  placed  in  order  before  him,  ready  to  catch 
the  oracle.  Goldsmith  paced  the  room  with  great 
solemnity  for  some  time,  but  his  thoughts  refused 
to  flow,  and  finally,  putting  his  hand  in  his  pocket, 
and  presenting  the  man  with  a  guinea,  he  said, 
"It  won't  do,  my  friend;  I  find  that  my  head 
aud  my  hand  must  go  together." 


INTERESTING     INFORMATION     ABOUT     THE 
ALPHABETS  OF  DIFFERENT  LANGUAGES. 

THE  invention  of  the  first  alphabet  is  attributed 
to  Cadmus,  a  mythical  king  of  Thebes,  son 
of  Agenor,  king  of  Phoenicia,  who  is  said  to 
have  introduced  into  Hellas  the  sixteen  simple 
letters  of  the  Greek  alphabet.  The  history  of 
Cadmus  and  his  accomplishments  is  so  interwoven 
with  fiction  that  it  is  difficult  to  arrive  at  the 
truth,  but  enough  is  known  to  entitle  him  to  the 
credit  of  being  an  earnest  aud  successful  patron 
and  promoter  of  learning  and  the  arts  as  they  ex- 
isted in  his  time. 

He  left  his  native  country,  so  the  legends  run, 
in  search  of  his  sister,  Europa,  who  had  been  car- 
ried off  by  Jupiter.  On  making  inquiry  of  the 
Delphic  Oracle  as  to  what  state  he  should  choose 
for  settlement,  he  was  advised  to  follow  a  heifer, 
which  would  meet  him.  He  found  the  heifer  in 
Phocis,  and  followed  her  into  Boeotia,  where  she 
sank  into  the  ground  on  a  spot  which  Cadmus 
called  Cadmea,  and  upon  which  the  citadel  of 
Thebes  was  afterward  built.  He  sent  some  of  his 
company  to  draw  water  from  the  sacred  well  of 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


81 


Mars,  which  was  guarded  by  a  dragon  that  slew 
the  intruders.  Cadmus  slew  the  dragon  in  turn, 
and  was  directed  by  the  goddess  Minerva  to  sow 
the  monster's  teeth.  Upon  obeying  this  injunction 
a  host  of  armed  men  sprang  from  the  ground  who 
were  called  the  Sparti,  or  the  Sown.  These  were 
about  to  turn  upon  Cadmus,  but  he  threw  a  stone 
among  them,  and  in  the  fight  which  ensued  he 
slew  all  except  five.     These  he  forced  into  sub- 


ventor  of  the  Greek  alphabet,  as  it  is  given  in  the 
leading  encyclopedias. 

We  think  it  will  be  equally  as  entertaining  and 
far  more  instructive  to  read  the  romantic,  but  true, 
history  of  an  American  Cadmus,  as  given  in  the 
following  sketch  : 

The  Inventor  of  the  Cherokee  Alphabet. 

The  invention  of  the  Cherokee  alphabet  is  one 
of  the  most    remarkable  events    in   the   history 


THE   DRAGON   OF   ANCIENT   FABi.ES. 


jection  to  him,  and  they  aided  him  in  building  a 
new  city,  which  he  called  Thebes.  To  recom- 
pense him  for  his  perils  the  gods  gave  him  Har- 
monia,  the  daughter  of  Mars  and  Venus,  for  a 
wife.  He  subsequently  became  king  of  the  En- 
chelians,  carried  on  a  war  against  the  Illyrians, 
and  had  a  son  called  Illyrius  ;  finally  he  and  his  wife 
were  changed  into  serpents  and  removed  to  Ely- 
sium.    And  so  ends  the  fanciful  history  of  the  in- 


of  the  aborigines.  The  best  account  we  have 
seen  of  it  is  by  Samuel  L,.  Knapp,  who  became  ac- 
quainted with  See-qua-yah,  its  author,  in  1828. 
The  English  name  of  this  celebrated  Indian  was 
George  Guess.  He  is  said  to  have  been  a  half- 
breed  ;  but  whether  he  was  so  or  not,  he  never  as- 
sociated with  the  whites,  or  spoke  any  language 
but  that  of  the  Cherokees.  Prompted  by  his  own 
curiosity,  and  urged  by  several  literary  friends, 


82      THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


Mr.  Knapp  applied  to  See-quah-yah,  through 
the  medium  of  two  interpreters,  to  relate  to  him, 
as  minutely  as  possible,  the  mental  operations,  and 
all  the  facts,  in  his  discovery. 

The  substance  of  his  communications  to  Mr. 
Knapp  was  as  follows  : 

"  That  he,  See-quah-yah,  was  now  about  sixty- 
five  years  old  ;  that  in  early  life  lie  was  gay  and 
talkative  ;  and  although  he  never  attempted  to 
speak  in  council  but  once,  yet  was  often,  from  the 
strength  of  his  memory,  his  easy  colloquial  powers, 
and  ready  command  of  his  vernacular,  story-teller 
of  the  convivial  party.  His  reputation  for  talents 
•of  every  kind  gave  him  some  distinction  when  he 
was  quite  young,  so  long  ago  as  St.  Clair's  defeat. 
In  this  campaign,  or  some  one  that  soon  followed 
it,  a  letter  was  found  on  the  person  of  a  prisoner, 
which  was  wrongly  read  by  him  to  the  Indians. 
In  some  of  their  deliberations  on  this  subject,  the 
question  arose  among  them,  whether  this  rnj-steri- 
ous  power  of  the  talking  leaf  was  the  gift  of  the 
Great  Spirit  to  the  white  man,  or  a  discovery  of 
the  white  man  himself?  Most  of  his  compan- 
ions were  of  the  former  opinion,  while  he  as 
Strenuously  maintained  the  latter.  This  frequent- 
ly became  a  subject  of  contemplation  with  him  af- 
terwards, as  well  as  many  other  tilings  which  he 
knew,  or  had  heard,  that  the  white  men  could  do  ; 
.but  he  never  sat  down  seriously  to  reflect  on  the 
subject  until  a  swelling  on  his  knee  confined  him 
to  his  cabin,  and  which  at  length  made  him  a 
cripple  for  life,  by  shortening  the  diseased  leg. 
Deprived  of  the  excitements  of  war  and  the  plea- 
sures of  the  chase,  in  the  long  nights  of  his 
confinement,  his  mind  was  again  directed  to  the 
mystery  of  the  power  of  speaking  by  letters — the 
very  name  of  which,  of  course,  was  not  to  be 
found  in  his  language.  From  the  cries  of  the 
wild  beasts,  from  the  talents  of  the  mocking  bird, 
from  the  voices  of  his  children  and  his  compan- 
ions, he  knew  that  feelings  and  passions  were  con- 
veyed by  different  sounds  from  one  intelligent 
being  to  another.  The  thought  struck  him  to  try 
to  ascertain  all  the  sounds  in  the  Cherokee  lan- 
guage. His  own  ear  was  not  remarkably  discrimi- 
nating, and  he  called  to  his  aid  the  more  acute 
ears  of  his  wife  and  children.  He  found  great  as- 
sistance from  them. 

When  he  thought  that  he  had  distinguished  all 
the  different  sounds  in  their  language,  he  attempted 
to  use  pictorial  signs,  images  of  birds  and  beasts, 


to  convey  these  sounds  to  others,  or  to  mark  them 
in  his  own  mind.  He  soon  dropped  this  method, 
as  difficult  or  impossible,  and  tried  arbitrary  signs, 
without  any  regard  to  appearances,  except  such  as 
might  assist  him  in  recollecting  them,  and  distin- 
guishing them  from  each  other.  At  first  these 
signs  were  very  numerous  ;  and  when  he  got  so 
far  as  to  think  his  invention  was  nearly  accom- 
plished, he  had  about  two  hundred  characters 
in  his  alphabet.  By  the  aid  of  his  daughter,  who 
seemed  to  enter  into  the  genius  of  his  labors,  he 
reduced  them,  at  last,  to  eighty-six,  the  number 
he  now  used.  He  then  undertook  to  make  these 
characters  more  comely  to  the  eye,  and  succeeded. 
As  yet  he  had  not  the  knowledge  of  the  pen  as  an 
instrument,  but  made  his  letters  on  a  piece  of  bark, 
with  a  knife  or  nail.  At  this  time  he  sent  to  the 
Indian  agent,  or  some  trader  in  the  nation,  for 
paper  and  pen.  His  ink  was  easily  made  from 
some  of  the  bark  of  the  forest  trees,  whose  color- 
ing properties  he  had  previously  known  ;  and  after 
seeing  the  construction  of  the  pen,  he  soon  learned 
to  make  one  ;  but  at  first  he  made  it  without  a 
slit ;  this  inconvenience  was,  however,  quickly  re- 
moved by  his  sagacity.  His  next  difficulty  was 
to  make  his  invention  known  to  his  countrymen  ; 
for  by  this  time  he  had  become  so  abstracted  from 
his  tribe  and  their  usual  pursuits,  that  he  was 
viewed  with  an  eye  of  suspicion.  His  former 
companions  passed  his  wigwam  without  entering 
it,  and  mentioned  his  name  as  one  who  was  prac- 
tising improper  spells  for  notoriety  or  mischievous 
purposes  ;  and  he  seemed  to  think  that  he  should 
have  been  hardly  dealt  with,  if  his  docile  and  un- 
ambitious disposition  had  not  been  so  generally 
acknowledged  by  his  tribe. 

At  length  he  summoned  some  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished of  his  nation,  in  order  to  make  his 
communication  to  them  ;  and  after  giving  them 
the  best  explanation  of  his  principle  that  he  could, 
stripping  it  of  all  supernatural  influence,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  demonstrate  to  them,  in  good  earnest, 
that  he  had  made  a  discovery.  His  daughter, 
who  was  now  his  only  pupil,  was  ordered  to  go 
out  of  hearing,  while  he  requested  his  friends  to 
name  a  word  or  sentiment,  which  he  put  down, 
and  then  she  was  called  in  and  read  it  to  them  ; 
then  the  father  retired,  and  the  daughter  wrote. 
The  Indians  were  wonder-struck,  but  not  entirely 
satisfied.  See-quah-yah  then  proposed  that  the 
tribe  should  select    several  youths  from   among 


(83) 


34 


THE  WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND  THE 


their  cleverest  young  men,  that  he  might  commu- 
nicate the  mystery  to  them.  This  was  at  length 
agreed  to,  although  there  was  some  lurking  suspi- 
cion of  necromancy  in  the  whole  business.  John 
Maw,  with  several  others,  was  selected  for  this  pur- 
pose. The  tribes  watched  them  for  several  months 
with  anxiety  ;  and  when  they  offered  themselves  for 
examination,  the  feelings  of  all  were  wrought  up 
to  the  highest  pitch.  The  youths  were  separated 
from  their  master,  and  from  each  other,  and 
watched  with  the  greatest  care.  The  uninitiated 
directed  what  the  master  and  pupil  should  write 
to  each  other,  and  these  tests  were  varied  in  such 
a  manner,  as  not  only  to  destroy  their  infidelity, 
but  most  firmly  to  fix  their  faith.  The  Indians, 
on  this,  ordered  a  great  feast,  and  made  See- 
quah-yah  conspicuous  at  it.  How  nearly  is  man 
alike  in  even-  age  !  Pythagoras  did  the  same 
on  the  discovers-  of  an  important  principle  in 
geometry.  See-quah-yah  became  at  once  school- 
master, professor,  philosopher,  and  a  chief.  His 
countrymen  were  proud  of  his  talents,  and  held 
him  in  reverence  as  one  favored  by  the  Great 
Spirit.  The  government  of  the  United  States 
had  a  font  of  types  cast  for  his  alphabet  and  a 
newspaper,  printed  partly  in  the  Cherokee  lan- 
guage, and  partly  in  the  English,  was  soon  es- 
tablished at  New  Echota,  characterized  by  de- 
cency and  good  sense  ;  and  many  of  the  Chero- 
kees  were  able  ere  long  to  read  both  languages. 

Number  of  Letters  in  Different  Alphabets. 

The  Sandwich  Island  alphabet  has  twelve  let- 
ters ;  the  Burmese,  nineteen  ;  the  Italian,  twen- 
ty ;  the  Bengalese,  twenty-one ;  the  Hebrew, 
Syriac,  Chaldee,  Samaritan  and  Eatin,  twenty- 
two  each  ;  the  French  twenty-three  ;  the  Greek, 
twenty-four ;  the  German  and  Dutch,  twenty- 
six  each ;  the  Spanish  and  Slavonic  twenty- 
seven  each  ;  the  Arabic  twenty-eight ;  the  Per- 
sian and  Coptic,  thirty-two ;  the  Georgian,  thir- 
ty-five ;  the  Armenian,  thirty-eight ;  the  Russian, 
forty-one  ;  the  Muscovite,  forty-three ;  the  San- 
scrit and  Japanese,  fifty  ;  the  Ethiopic  and  Tar- 
tarian, two  hundred  and  two. 

Defect  in  the  Russian  Alphabet. 

The  Church  of  St.  Alexander  Nevskoi,  at  St. 
Petersburg,  is  named  after  the  canonized  Grand 
Duke  Alexander,  whose  remains  were  brought 
there  in  a  silver  coffin.  It  was  in  this  same 
church,  Kohl,  the  traveller,  was  told  by  a  guide, 


pointing  to  a  corner  of  the  building,  "  There 
lies  a  Cannibal '/"  The  inscription  announced 
it  to  be  the  Russian  general,  Hannibal,  but  as 
the  Russians  have  no  H,  they  change  that  letter 
into  K ;  and  hence  the  extraordinary  and  not 
very  flattering  misnomer  given  to  the  deceased 
warrior. 


IVAN,  THE  TERRIBLE. 

CHIS  ruler  ascended  the  throne  of  Russia  in 
1533.  He  was  the  first  monarch  of  that 
nation  who  assumed  the  official  title  of  Czar, 
which  means  king  or  lord,  and  is  supposed  to  be 
a  corruption  of  the  Eatin  Caesar. 

Ivan  was  one  of  the  greatest  rulers  that  Russia 
ever  had,  but  his  cruel  and  sanguinary  disposition 
overbalanced  his  other  qualities,  and  obtained  for 
him  the  surname  of  the  Terrible.  He  encouraged 
commerce  and  the  arts,  concluded  commercial 
treaties  with  England,  called  many  foreigners, 
especially  Germans  and  English,  into  his  domin- 
ions, and  in  1569  established  the  first  printing 
office  in  Russia,  at  Moscow.  In  1570  he  put  more 
than  sixty  thousand  men  to  death  in  the  city  of 
Novgorod,  adding  the  most  exquisite  tortures  to 
this  terrible  and  unprovoked  slaughter,  his  only 
excuse  being  his  hatred  of  the  people  of  that  city 
on  account  of  their  love  of  freedom.  Similar 
scenes,  though  not  on  so  large  a  scale,  were  en- 
acted, by  his  directions,  in  Moscow  and  other  cities. 
Finally,  struck  with  remorse  for  his  terrible  crimes, 
and  being  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  supersti- 
tious feelings  of  his  age,  he  decided  to  abdicate 
and  retire  into  a  convent,  but  died  in  agony  and 
terror  before  he  could  put  his  design  into  execu- 
tion. The  illustration  represents  his  last  moments 
in  the  midst  of  his  family  and  the  officers  of  his 
body-guard. 


THE   CID. 

CHE  designation  el  Seid,  corrupted  in  Spanish 
to  Cid,  was  applied  to  the  Spanish  hero, 
Roderigo  Diaz,  by  the  Moors,  in  acknowl- 
edgment of  his  prowess  and  daring  in  battle. 
He  was  born  at  the  castle  of  Bivar,  near  Burgos, 
about  1040,  and  died  at  Valencia,  which  he  had 
captured  from  the  Moors  five  years  previously,  in 
1099.  His  life  was  spent  in  combats  with  the 
Moors,  to  whom  he  became  a  terror  on  account  of 
his  constant  success.     Even  after  his  death  it  is 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


85 


asserted  that  his  corpse,  clad  in  armor,  and  seated 
upon  his  war-horse,  was  led  at  the  head  of  his 
ann>',  inspiring  his  own  people  with  courage  and 
striking  terror  into  the  hearts  of  his  enemies.  His 
wife  fought  by  his  side  in  many  of  his  battles,  and 
remained  in  possession  of  Valencia  for  three  years 
after  his  death,  when  she  was  forced  to  fly  to  Cas- 
tile, where  she  died  in  1104.  They  had  two 
daughters  and  one  son  killed  in  battle  with  the 


THF  MACE  AND  MALLET  IN  BATTLE. 

DURING  the  da}'s  of  chivalry  the  mace  was  re- 
garded as  the  kingly  weapon.  It  was  an  im- 
provement upon  the  more  ancient  and  more 
barbarous  war-club,  and  in  the  hands  of  one  who 
knew  how  to  use  it,  was  an  exceedingly  dangerous 
and  effective  weapon.  It  was  frequently  armed 
with  sharp  steel  barbs,  from  one  to  two  inches  in 
length,  and  capable   of  penetrating  the  stoutest 


Tim   BODY   OF  THE   CID    SEATED   UPON    HIS    WAR-HORSE. 


Moors,  from  which  fact  it  appears  that  the  courage 
and  determination  of  the  parents  were  inherited 
by  their  children.  So  much  fiction  is  mingled 
with  the  actual  achievements  of  the  Cid  that  it  is 
impossible  to  separate  the  real  from  the  imaginary. 
In  the  popular  mind  he  was  the  pattern  of  a  Chris- 
tian warrior,  invincible  in  battle  and  unblemished 
in  character. 


armor.  The  appearance  and  manner  of  using  the 
mace  are  shown  in  a  number  of  illustrations  in 
this  volume. 

The  mallet  was  also  a  favorite  weapon,  and  is 
often  referred  to  by  ancient  historians.  One  of 
the  warriors  in  the  accompanying  illustration  is 
armed  with  this  weapon.  It  was  made  of  bronze 
or  iron,  and  of  sufficient  weight  to  crush  through 


86 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


the  stoutest  an>»or.  The  mallet  appears  to  have 
been  an  improvement  upon  the  more  ancient  stone 
axe  or  hatchet. 

There  is  an  ancient  ecclesiastical  maxim  to  the 
effect  that  "  the  Church  knows  not  blood,"  and  Bayle 
the  historian  informs  us  that  during  the  days  of 
the  inquisition,  heretics  were  punished  by  fire 
because  in  burning  a  man  they  did  not  shed  his 
blood  !  For  a  similar  reason  Christian  warriors  of 
that  era  preferred  the  mace  and  mallet  to  other 


burned  by  the  Duke  of  Bedfr  rd,  ad  that  she 
escaped  and  lived  many  years  afterward.  The 
legend  is  not  noticed  by  any  of  the  historians, 
though  some  have  mentioned  that  after  her  death 
an  impostor  arose,  claiming  to  be  the  real  Joan  of 
Arc,  that  she  was  married  to  a  French  gentleman, 
and  became  the  mother  of  several  children.  It  is 
at  least  pleasant  to  believe  in  the  possibility  of 
this  story,  as  a  relief  from  the  horrors  of  the  death 
by  torture  to  which  she  was  subjected. 


r 


HORSEMAN    ARMED   WITH    BATTLE-MALLET 

weapo  s,  because  in  dispatching  their  antagonists 
they  d;  1  not  spill  their  blood,  but  only  broke  their 
bones.  Matilda,  Queen  of  William  the  Conqueror, 
wove  a  famou ;  tapestry  picture  of  Eishop  Otto, 
in  whic  i  he  is  represented  as  being  armed  with  a 
mace,  because  his  priestly  office  made  it  improper 
for  him  to  use  a  weapon  that  woidd  draw  blood. 

LEGEND    OF    THE    ESCAPE    OF  JOAN  OF  ARC. 

THERE  is  a  legend  to  the  effect  that  a  bundle 
of   fagots  was  substituted  for  the  Maid  of 
Orleans,   when   she  was   supposed   to  ha-Te  been 


HARDSHIPS  OF    DE- 
THRONED MON- 
ARCHS. 

N  Candide  or  the 
Optimist,  there  is 
an  admirable  stroke  of 
Voltaire's.  Eight  trav- 
ellers meet  in  an  ob- 
scure inn,  and  some  of 
them  with  not  sufficient 
money  to  pay  for  a 
scurv}-  dinner.  In  the 
course  of  conversation, 
they  are  discovered  to 
be  eight  monarchs  in 
Europe,  who  had  been 
deprived  of  their 
crowns  ! 

What  added  to  this 
exquisite  satire  was, 
that  there  were  eight 
living  monarchs  at  thai 
moment  wanderer;  on 
the  earth. 

Adelaide,   the  widow 
of  Lothario,    King    of 
Italy,  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  women  in  her 
age,  was  besieged  in  Pavia  by  Berenger,  who  re- 
solved to  constrain  her  to  mam-  his  son  after  Pavia 
should  be  taken  ;  she  escaped  from  her  prison  with 
her   almoner.     The    archbishop    of    Reggie    had 
offered  her  an  asylum  :  to  reach  it,  she  and  her 
almoner   travelled    on    foot   through   the  country 
by    night,    concealing    herself    in    the    daytime 
among   the  corn,   while  the  almoner   begged  for 
alms  and  food  through  the  villages. 

The  Emperor  Henry  IV.,  after  having  been  de- 
posed and  imprisoned  by  his  son,  Henry  V., 
escaped  from   prison  ;  poor,  vagrant,  and  without 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


87 


aid,  he  entreated  the  bishop  of  Spires  to  grant  him 
a  lay  prebend  in  his  church.  "  I  have  studied," 
said  he,  "and  have  learned  to  sing,  and  may  there- 
fore be  of  some  service  to  you."  The  request  was 
denied,  and  he  died  miserably  and  obscurely  at 
Liege,  after 
having  drawn 
the  attention 
of  Europe  to 
his  victories 
and  his  gran- 
deur. 

Mary  of  Me- 
dicis,  the  wid- 
ow of  Henry 
the  Great,  mo- 
ther of  Louis 
XIII.,  mother- 
in-law  of  three 
sovereigns, 
and  regent  of 
France,  fre- 
quently wanted 
the  necessaries 
of  life,  and  died 
at  Cologne  in 
the  utmost 
misery.  The 
intriguer  Rich- 
elieu compelled 
her  to  exile  her- 
self, and  live  an 
unhappy  fugi- 
tive. 

Lilly,  the  as- 
trologer, in  his 
Life  and  Death 
jf  Charles  the 
First,  thus  de- 
scribes the  un- 
fortunate con- 
dition of  the 
old  queen  mo- 
ther of  France : 
"  In  the  month 

of  August,  1641,  I  beheld  the  old  queen  mother 
of  France  departing  from  London,  in  company 
of  Thomas,  Earl  of  Arundel.  A  sad  spectacle 
of  mortality  it  was,  and  produced  tears  from 
mine  eyes  and  many  other  beholders,  to  see  an 
aged,   lean,    decrepit,   poor  queen  ready  for   her 


grave,  necessitated  to  depart  hence,  having  no 
place  of  residence  in  this  world  left  her,  but 
where  the  courtesy  of  her  hard  fortune  assigned 
it.  She  had  been  the  only  stately  and  magnifi- 
cent woman  of  Europe  :  wife  to  the  greatest  king 


MAMELUKE  S0LD1EK 


MIMED   WITH    LONG   MACE   AND   PISTOL. 


that  ever  liven  in  France  ;  mother  unto  one  king' 
and  unto  two  queens." 

Hume  relates  the  following  incident  of  royal 
distress  :  He  informs  us  that  the  queen  of  Eng- 
land, with  her  son  Charles,  had  a  moderate  pen- 
sion assigned  her  ;  but  it  was  so  ill  paid,  and  he* 


88 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


credit  ran  so  low,  that  one  morning  when  the  Car- 
dinal de  Retz  waited  on  her,  she  informed  him 
that  her  daughter,  the  princess  Henrietta,  was 
obliged  to  lie  a-bed  for  want  of  a  fire  to  warm  her. 
To  such  a  condition  was  reduced,  in  the  midst  of 
Paris,  a  queen  of  England,  and  daughter  of  Henry 
IV.  of  France  !  We  find  another  proof  of  her  ex- 
cessive poverty.  Salmasius,  after  publishing  his 
celebrated  political  book,  in  favor  of  Charles  II., 
the  Defcnsio  Regia,  was  much  blamed  by  a  friend 
for  not  having  sent  a  copy  to  the  widowed  queen 
of  Charles,  who,  he  writes,  though  poor,  would 
3Tet  have  paid  the  bearer  ! 

A  strange  anecdote  is  related  of  Charles  VII.  of 
France.  Henry  V.  of  England  had  shrunk  his 
kingdom  into  the  town  of  Bourges.  It  is  said 
that  having  told  a  shoemaker  after  he  had  just 
tried  a  p\ir  of  his  boots,  that  he  had  no  money  to 
pay  for  them,  Crispin  had  such  callous  feelings 
that  he  re  fused  his  majesty  the  boots  !  "  It  is  for 
this  reason,"  says  Comities,  "I  praise  those 
princes  who  are  on  good  terms  with  the  lowest 
of  their  people  ;  for  they  know  not  at  what  hour 
they  may  want  them." 


into  !  The  loyal  soldier  was  brought  to  trial,  and 
as  it  was  impossible  to  deny  that  he  had  entered 
her  apartment,  the  judges  condemned  him  to  die  ! 
The  Spanish  Princes,  however,  condescended  in 
consideration  of  the  circumstance  to  pardon  the 
soldier,  and  very  benevolently  saved  his  life  ! 


SPANISH   ROYAL  ETIQUETTE. 

PHILIP  THE  THIRD  was  gravely  seated  by 
the  fireside  ;  the  fire-maker  of  the  court  had 
kindled  so  great  a  quantity  of  wood,  that  the 
monarch  was  nearly  suffocated  with  heat,  and 
his  grandeur  would  not  suffer  him  to  rise  from  the 
chair ;  the  domestics  could  not  presume  to  enter 
the  apartment,  because  it  was  against  the  etiquette. 
At  length  the  Marquis  de  Pota  appeared,  and  the 
king  ordered  him  to  damp  the  fires :  but  he  ex- 
cused himself ;  alleging  that  he  was  forbidden  by 
the  etiquette  to  perform  such  a  function,  for  which 
the  Duke  d'Usseda  ought  to  be  called  upon,  as  it 
was  his  business.  The  duke  was  gone  out ;  the 
fire  burnt  fiercer  ;  and  the  king  endured  it,  rather 
than  derogate  from  his  dignity.  But  his  blood 
was  heated  to  such  a  degree  that  an  erysipelas  of 
the  head  appeared  the  next  day,  which,  succeeded 
by  a  violent  fever,  carried  him  off  in  162 1,  in  the 
twenty-fourth  year  of  his  age. 

The  palace  was  once  on  fire  ;  a  soldier,  who 
knew  the  king's  sister  was  in  her  apartment,  and 
must  inevitably  have  been  consumed  in  a  few  mo- 
ments by  the  flames,  at  the  risk  of  his  life  rushed 
in,  and  brought  her  highness  safe  out  in  his  arms  : 
but  the  Spanish  etiquette  was  here  woefully  broken 


ANCIENT  FASHIONS. 

CHE  hair  has  in  all  ages  been  an  endless  topic 
of  the  declamation  of  the  moralist,  and  the 
favorite  object  of  fashion.  If  the  beau  monde 
wore  their  hair  luxuriant,  or  the  wig  enormous, 
the  preachers,  as  in  Charles  the  Second's  reigu, 
instantly  were  seen  in  the  pulpit  with  their  hair 
cut  shorter,  and  their  sermon  longer,  in  conse- 
quence ;  respect  was  however  paid  by  the  world 
to  the  size  of  the  wig,  in  spite  of  the  hair-cutter 
in  the  pulpit.  In  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  the 
hair-dress  of  the  ladies  was  very  elaborate  ;  it 
was  not  only  curled  and  frizzed  with  the  nicest 
art,  but  set  off  with  certain  artificial  curls,  then 
too  emphatically  known  by  the  pathetic  term  of 
heart-breakers  and  love- locks.  So  late  as  William 
and  Marj-,  lads  and  even  children,  wore  wigs  ;  and 
if  they  had  not  wigs,  they  curled  their  hair  to  re- 
semble this  fashionable  ornament.  Women  then 
were  the  hair-dressers. 

It  is  observed  by  the  lively  Vigneul  de  Marville 
that  there  are  flagrant  follies  in  fashion  which 
must  be  endured  while  they  reign,  and  which 
never  appear  ridiculous  till  they  are  out  of  fash 
ion.  In  the  reign  of  Henry  III.  of  France,  thej 
could  not  exist  without  an  abundant  use  of  com- 
fits. All  the  world,  the  grave  and  the  gay, 
carried  in  their  pocket  a  comfit-box  as  we  do 
snuff-boxes.  The}-  used  them  even  on  the  most 
solemn  occasions  ;  when  the  Duke  of  Guise  was 
shot  at  Blois,  he  was  found  with  his  comfit-box 
in  his  hand.  Fashions  indeed  have  been  carried 
to  so  extravagant  a  length  as  to  have  become  a 
public  offence,  and  to  have  required  the  interfer- 
ence of  government.  Short  and  tight  breeches 
were  so  much  the  rage  in  France,  that  Charles 
V.  was  compelled  to  banish  this  digusting  mode 
by  edicts  which  may  be  found  in  Mezeray.  An 
Italian  author  of  the  fifteenth  century  supposes 
an  Italian  traveller  of  nice  modesty  would  not  pass 
through  France,  that  he  might  not  be  offended 
by  seeing  men  whose  clothes  rather  exposed 
nakedness  than  hid  it.  It  is  curious  that  the 
very  same  fashion  was  the  complaint  in  the  re- 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


89 


moter    period    of    Chaucer,    in    his    "Parson's 
Tales." 

In  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  the  reverse  of  all  this 
took  place ;  then  the  mode  of  enormous  breeches 
was  pushed  to  a  most  laughable  excess.  The 
beaus  of  that  day  stuffed  out  their  breeches  with 
rags,  feathers,  and  other 
light  matters,  till  they 
brought  them  out  to  a  most 
enormous  size.  They  re- 
sembled wool-sacks,  and 
in  a  public  spectacle,  they 
were  obliged  to  raise  scaf- 
folds for  the  seats  of  those 
ponderous  beaus.  To  ac- 
cord with  this  fantastical 
taste  the  ladies  invented 
large  hoop  farthingales. 
Two  lovers  aside  could 
surely  never  have  taken 
one  another  by  the  hand. 
In  a  preceding  reign  the 
fashion  ran  on  square-toes ; 
insomuch  that  a  proclama- 
tion was  issued  that  no 
person  should  wear  shoes 
above  six  inches  square  at 
the  toes  !  Then  succeeded 
picket-pointed  shoes  !  The 
nation  was  again,  in  the 
reign  of  Elizabeth,  put  un- 
der the  royal  authority. 
"  In  that  time,"  says  hon- 
est John  Stowe,  "he  was 
held  the  greatest  gallant 
that  had  the  deepest  ruffe 
and  longest  rapier ;  the  of- 
ence  to  the  eye  of  the  one 
and  hurt  unto  the  life  of 
the  subject  that  come  by 
the  other ;  this  caused  her 
Majesty  to  make  procla- 
mation against  them  both,  and  to  place  selected 
grave  citizens  at  every  gate  to  cut  off  the  ruffes, 
and  break  the  rapier  points  of  all  passengers  that 
exceeded  a  yeard  in  length  of  their  rapiers,  and 
a  nayle  of  a  yeard  in  depth  of  their  ruffes. ' '  These 
"  grave  citizens,"  at  every  gate  cutting  the  ruffes 
and  breaking  the  rapiers,  must  doubtless  have  en- 
countered in  their  ludicrous  employment  some 
Stubborn  opposition  ;  but  this  regulation  was,  in 


the  spirit  of  that  age,  despotic  and  effectual.  Peter 
the  Great,  Emperor  of  Russia,  ordered  the  soldiers 
to  stop  every  passenger  who  wore  pantaloons,  and 
with  their  hangers  to  cut  off,  upon  the  leg,  the  of- 
fending part  of  these  superfluous  breeches  ;  so  that 
a  man's  legs  depended  greatly  on  the  adoitness 


FRENCH  COSTUMES  DURING  A  PORTION  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY. 

and  humanity  of  a  Russ  or  a  Cossack  ;  however 
this  war  against  pantaloons  was  very  successful, 
and  obtained  a  complete  triumph  in  favor  of  the 
breeches  in  the  course  of  the  week. 

A  shameful  extravagance  in  dress  has  been  a 
most  venerable  folly.  In  the  reign  of  Richard  II. 
their  dress  was  sumptuous  beyond  belief.  Sir  John 
Arundel  had  a  change  of  no  less  than  fifty-'  wo 
new  suits  of  cloth  of  gold  tissue.     The  pre*  tes 


90 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


Indulged  in  all  the  ostentatious  luxury  of  dress. 
Chancer  says  the}-  had  ' '  chaunge  of  clothing 
everie  daie."  Brantome  records  of  Elizabeth, 
Queeeof  Philip  II.,  of  Spain,  that  she  never  wore 


QUEEN    ELIZABETH    IN    FIXL   COSTUME 


i  gown  twice  ;  this  told  of  him  by  her  Majesty's 
»wn  iaillcur,  who  from  a  poor  man  soon  became  as 
dch  as  any  one  he  knew.     Elizabeth  of  England, 


left  no  less  than  three  thousand  different  habits in 
her  wardrobe  at  the  time  of  her  death. 

The  toilet  of  Elizabeth  was  indeed  an  altar  of 
devotion,  of  which  she  was  the  idol,  and  all  her 
ministers  were  her  votaries  ; 
it  was  the  reign  of  coquetry, 
and  the  golden  age  of  milli- 
nery !  But  of  grace  and  ele- 
gance, they  had  not  the  slight- 
est feeling  !  There  is  a  print 
by  Vertue,  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth going  in  a  procession  to 
Lord  Hunsdon.  This  proces- 
sion is  led  by  Eady  Hunsdon, 
who  no  doubt  was  the  leader 
likewise  of  the  fashions  ;  but 
it  is  impossible,  with  our  ideas 
of  grace  and  comfort,  not  to 
commiserate  this  unfortunate 
lad}-,  whose  standing-up  wire 
ruff,  rising  above  her  head ; 
whose  stays  or  bodice,  so  long- 
waisted  as  to  reach  to  her 
knees,  and  the  circumference  of 
her  large  hoop  farthingale, 
which  seems  to  enclose  her  in 
a  capacious  tub,  mark  her  out 
as  one  of  the  most  pitiable 
martyrs  of  ancient  modes. 

StowTe,  the  historian,  p,ives 
the  following  account  of  some 
singular  customs  that  prcv  .  iled 
in  Queen  Elizabeth's  time  : 

' '  In    the     second    year     of 
Queen  Elizabeth,  1560,  her  silk 
woman,     Mistris     Mountague, 
presented    her     majestie   for   a 
new  yeere's  gift  a  paire  of  black 
silk  knit  stockins,   the  which, 
after     a     few    days'    wearing, 
pleased  her  highness  so  well, 
that  she  sent  for  Mistris  Moun- 
tague,   and   asked    her  where 
she  had  them,  and  if  she  could 
help  her  to  any  more,  who  an- 
swered,   '  I    made   them    very 
carefully   of  purpose   only  for 
your  majestie,  and  seeing  these 
please  you  so  wTell,  I  will  presently  set  more  in 
hand.'     'Do  so  (quoth  the  queene),  for  indeed  I 
like     silk    stockins    so   well,    because    they   are 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


91 


pleasant,  fine,  and  delicate,  that  henceforth  I  will 
wear  no  more  cloth  stockins ' — and  from  that  time 
unto  her  death  the  queene  never  wore  any  more 
cloth  hose,  but  only  silke  stockins  ;  for  you  shall 
understand  that  King  Henry  the  Eight  did  weare 
onely  cloth  hose,  or  hose  cut  out  of  ell-broade 
taffaty,  or  that  by  great  chance  there  came  a  pair 
of  Spanish  silke  stockins  from  Spain.  King  Ed- 
ward the  Sixte  had  a  payre  of  long  Spanish  silke 
stockins  sent  him  for  a  great  present.  Duke's 
daughters  then  wore  gowns  of  satten  of  Bridges 
(Bruges)  upon 
solemn  dayes. 
Cushens,  and 
window  pil- 
lows of  velvet 
and  damaske, 
formerly  only 
princely  fur- 
niture, now  be 
very  plenteous 
in  most  citi- 
zens' houses. 

"  Milloners 
or  haberdash- 
ers had  not 
then  any 
gloves  imbroy- 
dered,  or  trim- 
med with  gold, 
or  silke ;  nei- 
ther gold  nor 
embroydered 
girdles  and 
hangers,  nei- 
ther could 
they  make  any 

costly  wash  or  perfume,  until  about  the  fifteenth 
yeere  of  the  queene,  the  Right  Honourable  Ed- 
ward de  Vere,  Earl  of  Oxford,  came  from  Italy, 
and  brought  with  him  gloves,  sweete  bagges,  a 
perfumed  leather  jerkin,  and  other  pleasant  things ; 
and  that  yeere  the  queene  had  a  pair  of  per- 
fumed gloves  trimmed  onely  with  four  tuffes,  or 
roses  of  coloured  silk.  The  queene  tooke  such 
pleasure  in  those  gloves,  that  she  was  pictured 
with  them  upon  her  handes,  and  for  many  years 
after,  it  was  called  'The  Earl  of  Oxford's  per- 
fume.' " 

The  fashion  of  starching  linen  was  first  intro- 
duced into  England  during  Elizabeth's  time,  the 


event  being  thus   described  by  the  same  historian 
whom  we  have  quoted  above  : 

"In  the  year  1564,  Mistris  Dinghen  Van  den 
Plasse,  borne  at  Tsenen  in  Flaunders,  daughter  to 
a  worshipful  knight  of  that  province,  with  her 
husband  came  to  London  for  their  better  safeties, 
and  there  professed  herselfe  a  starcher,  wherein 
she  excelled,  unto  whom  her  owne  nation  pre- 
sently repaired,  and  payed  her  very  liberally  for 
her  worke.  Some  very  few  of  the  best  and  most 
curious  wives  of  that  time,  observing  the  neatness 


COSTUMES   OF   THE   ENGLISH    NOBILITY 


OF    THE   FOURTEENTH   CENTURY. — 
ancient  engraving.) 


Accurate   copy  of   in 


and  delicacy  of  the  Dutch  for  whiteness  and  fine 
wearing  of  linen,  made  them  cambricke  ruffes, 
and  sent  them  to  Mistris  Dinghen  to  starche,  and 
after  awhile  they  made  them  ruffes  of  lawn,  which 
was  at  that  time  a  stuff  most  strange,  and  won- 
derful, and  thereupon  arose  a  general  scoffe  or  by- 
word, that  shortly  they  would  make  ruffes  of  a 
spider's  web  ;  and  then  they  began  to  send  their 
daughters  and  nearest  kinswomen  to  Mistris 
Dinghen  to  learne  how  to  starche  ;  her  usuall 
price  was  at  that  time,  foure  or  five  pound,  to 
teach  them  how  to  starche,  and  twenty  shillings- 
how  to  seeth  starche. ' ' 

The  reign  of  Charles  II.  was  the  dominion  of 


U2 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


Frencu  fashions.  In  some  respects  the  taste  was 
a  little  lighter,  but  the  moral  effect  of  dress,  and 
which  jo  doubt  it  has,  was  much  worse.  The 
dress  of  the  French  queen  was  very  inflamma- 
tory' ;  and  the  nudity  of  the  beauties  of  the  por- 
trait painter,  Sir  Peter  I^ely,  has  been  observed. 


OUEEN  HENRIETTA,  WIFE  OF  CHARLES  I. 

The  Queen  of  Charles  II.  exposed  her  breast  and 
shoulders  without  even  the  glass  of  the  lightest 
gauze  ;  and  the  tucker  instead  of  standing  up  on 
her  bosom,  is  with  licentious  boldness  turned 
down,  and  lies  upon  her  stays.  This  custom  of 
baring  the  bosom  was  much  exclaimed  against  by 
the  authors  of  that  age.      That  honest  divine, 


Richard  Baxter,  wrote  a  preface  to  a  book,  entitled 
"  A  j  ust  and  seasonable  reprehension  of  naked 
breasts  and  shoulders."  In  1672  a  book  was 
published,  entitled,  "New  instructions  unto 
youth  for  their  behaviour,  and  also  a  discourse 
upon  some  innovations  of  habits  and  dressing ; 
-.-..  against  powdering  the  hair,  naked 
breasts,  black  spots,  (or  patches.) 
and  other  unseemly  customs."  A 
whimsical  fashion  now  prevailed 
among  the  ladies,  of  strangely  orna- 
menting their  faces  with  abundance 
of  black  patches  cut  into  grotesque 
forms,  such  as  a  coach  and  horses, 
owls,  rings,  suns,  moons,  crowns, 
cross  and  crosslets. 

During  the  reign  of  William  the 
Conqueror,  and  for  several  centuries 
afterward,  it  was  the  custom  among 
men  and  women  throughout  Europe, 
to  give  an  enormous  length  to  thew 
shoes,  to  draw  the  toe  to  a  sharp 
point,  and  to  affix  to  it  the  fixture 
of  a  bird's  bill,  or  some  such  orna- 
ment which  was  turned  upward  and 
which  was  after  sustained  by  gold  or 
silver  chains  tied  to  the  knee.  The 
ecclesiastics  took  exception  to  this 
ornament,  declaring  that  it  was  an 
attempt  to  belie  the  scriptures,  where 
it  is  affirmed  that  no  man  can  add  a 
cubit  to  his  stature.  They  not  only 
declaimed  against  the  custom,  but 
the}-  assembled  synods  and  abso- 
lutely condemned  it.  But  though 
the  clergy  at  that  time  could  over- 
turn thrones,  and  make  and  un- 
make kings,  they  could  not  prevail 
against  the  long-pointed  shoes  ;  in 
fact  some  historians  declare  that  the 
opposition  of  the  church  was  the 
principal  cause  of  the  long-continu- 
ance of  the  fashion,  a  striking  in- 
stance of  the  strange  contradictions 
in  human  nature.  The  accompanying  portrait  of 
Louis  XIV.,  of  France,  exhibits  a  peculiarity  of 
foppish  style  that  prevailed  at  the  French  Court 
during  the  latter  part  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury. If  a  person  should  appear  in  public,  during 
these  modem  times  of  common-sense  and  utility 
in  fashions,  dressed  in  such  a  costume,  he  would 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


93 


certainly  be  arrested  for  a  lunatic.     The  frills  on 
King  Louis'  trousers  are  especially  remarkable. 

THE  LOVER'S  HEART. 

CHE  following  incident  is  related  in  the  His- 
torical Memoirs  of  Champagne,  by  Bougier. 
It  has  been  a  favorite  theme  with  poets  and 
romancers,  but  does 
not  appear  in  any 
of  the  modern  his- 
tories. 

The  Lord  De 
Coucy,  vassal  to 
the  Count  De 
Champagne,  was 
one  of  the  most 
accompl  ished 
youths  of  his  time. 
He  loved,  with  an 
excess  of  passion, 
the  lady  of  the 
Lord  Du  Fay  el, 
who  felt  a  recipro- 
cal affection.  With 
the  most  poignant 
grief  this  lady 
heard  f r  o  m  her 
lover  that  he  had 
resolved  to  accom- 
pany the  king  and 
the  Count  De 
Champagne  to  the 
wars  of  the  Holy 
Land;  but  she 
would  not  oppose 
his  wishes,  because 
she  hoped  that  his 
absence  might  dis- 
sipate the  jealousy 
of  her  husband. 
The  time  of  de- 
parture having 
come,  these  two 
lovers  parted  with 
sorrows  of  the  most 
lively  tenderness. 
The  lady,  in  quit- 
ting her  lover,  pre- 
sented him  with  some  rings,  some  diamonds,  and 
with  a  string  that  she  had  woven  herself  of  his 
own  hair,    intermixed  with  silk  and  buttons  of 


large  pearls,  to  serve  him,  according  to  the  fash- 
ion of  those  days,  to  tie  a  magnificent  hood  which 
covered  his  helmet.  This  he  gratefully  accepted. 
In  Palestine,  at  the  siege  of  Acre,  in  1191,  in 
gloriously  ascending  the  ramparts,  he  received  a 
wound  which  was  declared  mortal.  He  employed 
the  few  moments  he  had  to  live  in  writing  to  the 


LOUIS  XIV.,  OF  FRANCE,  IN  THE  COURT  COSTUME  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY. 

Lady  Du  Fayel  ;  and  he  poured  forth  the  fervor 
of  his  soul.  He  ordered  his  squire  to  embalm  his 
heart  after  his  death,  and  to  convey  it  to  his  be- 


94 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


loved  mistress,  with  the  presents  he  had  received 
from  her  hands  on  quitting  her. 


SIEGE   OF   ACRE    AND    DEATH    OF   THE   LOVER 


The  squire,  faithful  to  the  dying'  injunction  of 
his  master,  returned  to  France  to  present  the  heart 
and  the  presents  to  the  Lady  of  Du  Fayel.     But 


when  he  approached  the  castle  of  this  lady,  he 
concealed  himself  in  the  neighboring  wood  till  he 

could  find  some 
favorable  moment 
to  complete  his  pro- 
mise. He  had  the 
misfortune  to  be 
observed  by  the 
husband  of  the 
lady,  who  recog- 
nized him,  and  who 
immediately  sus- 
pected he  came  in 
search  of  his  wife 
with  some  mes- 
sage from  his  mas- 
ter. He  threatened 
to  deprive  him  of 
his  life  if  he  did 
not  divulge  the  oc- 
casion of  his  re- 
turn. The  squire 
assured  him  that 
his  master  w  a  s 
dead;  but  Du 
Fayel,  not  believ- 
ing it,  drew  his 
sword  on  him.  The 
man,  frightened  at 
the  peril  in  which 
he  found  himself, 
confessed  every- 
thing, and  put  into 
his  hands  the  heart 
and  letter  of  his 
master.  Du  Fayel, 
prompted  by  the 
fiercest  revenge,  or- 
dered his  cook  to 
mince  the  heart, 
and  having  mixed 
it  with  meat,  he 
caused  a  ragout  to 
be  made,  which  he 
knew  pleased  the 
taste  of  his  wife, 
and  had  it  served 
to  her.  The  lady 
ate  heartily  of  the  dish.  After  the  repast,  Du 
Fayel  inquired  of  his  wife  if  she  had  found 
the  ragout  according  to  her  taste.     She  answered 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


95 


him  that  she  had  found  it  excellent.  "It  is 
for  this  reason  that  I  caused  it  to  be  served 
to  you,  for  it  is  a  kind  of  meat  which  you  very 
much  like.  You  have,  madam,"  the  savage 
Du  Fayel  continued,  "eaten  the  heart  of  the  Lord 
De  Coucy."  But  this  she  would  not  believe  till 
he  showed  her  the  letter  of  her  lover,  with  the 
string  of  his  hair  and  the  diamonds  she  had  given 
him.  Then,  shuddering  in  the  anguish  of  her 
sensations,  and  urged  by  the  darkest  despair,  she 
told  him,  "It  is  true  that  I  loved  the  heart,  be- 
cause it  merited  to  be  loved ;  for  never  could  it 
find  its  superior  ;  and  since  I  have  eaten  of  so  noble 
a  meat,  and  that  my  stomach  is  the  tomb  of  so 
precious  a  heart,  I  will  take  care  that  nothing  of 
inferior  worth  shall  be  mixed  with  :_."  Grief  and 
passion  choked  her  utterance.  She  retired  to  her 
chamber ;  she  closed  the  door  forever  ;  and  refus- 
ing to  accept  consolation  or  food,  the  amiable  vic- 
tim expired  on  the  fourth  day. 


THE  HISTORY  OF  GLOVES. 

IT  has  been  supposed  that  gloves  are  noticed  in 
the  108th  Psalm,  where  the  royal  prophet  de- 
clares that  he  will  cast  his  shoe  over  Edom ; 
and  still  further  back,  in  the  time  of  the  Judges, 
where,  in  Ruth  iv.  7,  the  custom  is  noted  of  a  man 
taking  off  his  shoe  and  giving  it  to  his  neighbor  as 
a  pledge  for  redeeming  or  exchanging  anything. 
The  reason  for  this  supposition  is  based  upon  the 
fact  that  the  word  usually  translated  shoe  is  by 
the  Chaldeans  rendered  glove.  Casaubon  is  of 
opinion  that  gloves  were  worn  by  the  Chaldeans, 
from  the  word  being  explained  in  the  Talmud 
lexicon  as  ' '  the  clothing  of  the  hand. ' ' 

Xenophon,  as  a  proof  of  the  efficiency  of  the 
Persians,  observes  that,  not  satisfied  with  covering 
their  heads  and  their  feet,  they  also  guarded  their 
hands  against  the  cold  with  thick  gloves.  Athe- 
nseus  speaks  of  a  celebrated  glutton  who  always 
came  to  table  with  gloves  on  his  hands,  that  he 
might  be  able  to  handle  and  eat  the  meat  while 
hot,  and  thus  devour  more  than  the  rest  of  the 
company. 

These  authorities  show  that  the  ancients  were 
not  strangers  to  the  use  of  gloves,  though  their  use 
was  not  common.  In  a  hot  climate  to  wear  gloves 
implies  a  considerable  degree  of  effeminacy.  We 
can  more  clearly  trace  the  early  use  of  gloves  in 
northern  than  in  southern  nations.  When  the 
ancient  severity  of  manners  declined,  the  use  of 


gloves  prevailed  among  the  Romans  ;  but  not  with- 
out some  opposition  from  the  philosophers.  Mu- 
sonius,  a  philosopher,  who  lived  at  the  close  of  the  ' 
first  century  of  Christianity,  among  other  invectives 
against  the  corruption  of  the  age,  says,  "It  is 
shameful  that  persons  in  perfect  health  should  clothe 
their  hands  and  feet  with  soft  and  hairy  coverings." 
Their  convenience,  however,  soon  made  the  use 
general.  Pliny  the  younger  informs  us,  in  his  ac- 
count of  his  uncle's  journey  to  Vesuvius,  that  his 
secretary  sat  hy  him  ready  to  write  down  whatever 
occurred  remarkable  ;  and  that  he  had  gloves  on 
his  hands,  that  the  coldness  of  the  weather  might 
not  impede  his  business. 

Favin  observes,  that  the  custom  of  blessing 
gloves  at  the  coronation  of  the  kings  of  France, 
which  still  subsists,  is  a  remnant  of  the  eastern 
practice  of  investiture  by  a  glove.  A  remarkable 
instance  of  this  ceremony  is  recorded.  The  unfor- 
tunate Conradin  was  deprived  of  his  crown  and 
his  life  by  the  usurper  Mainfroy.  When  having 
ascended  the  scaffold,  the  injured  prince,  lament- 
ing his  hard  fate,  asserted  his  right  to  the  crown, 
and  as  a  token  of  investiture,  threw  his  glove 
among  the  crowd,  entreating  that  it  might  be 
conveyed  to  some  of  his  relations,  who  would  re- 
venge his  death.  It  was  taken  up  by  a  knight, 
who  conveyed  it  to  Peter,  king  of  Arragon,  who 
in  virtue  of  this  glove,  was  afterward  crowned  at 
Palermo. 

As  the  delivery  of  gloves  was  once  a  part  of  the 
ceremony  used  in  giving  possession  of  property  of 
any  kind,  so  the  depriving  of  a  person  of  these  was 
a  mark  of  divesting  him  of  his  office.  The  Earl 
of  Carlisle,  in  the  n_  j\\  of  Edward  the  Second, 
was  condemned  to  die  as  a  traitor  for  holding  cor- 
respondence with  the  Scots.  Among  other  marks 
of  degradation,  it  is  related  that  ' '  his  spurs  were 
cut  off  with  a  hatchet,  and  his  gloves  and  shoes 
were  taken  off, ' '  etc. 

The  use  of  single  combat,  at  first  designed  only 
for  a  trial  of  innocence,  like  the  ordeals  of  fire  and 
water,  was  in  succeeding  ages  practised  for  decid- 
ing rights  of  property. 

Challenging  by  the  glove  was  continued  down 
to  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  as  appears  by  an  account 
given  by  Spelman  of  a  duel  appointed  to  be  fought 
in  Tothill  Fields  in  1571.  The  dispute  was  con- 
cerning some  lands  in  the  county  of  Kent.  The 
parties  appeared  in  Court  and  demanded  single 
combat.     One   of  them   threw   down   his  glove, 


96 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


which  the  other  immediately  taking  up,  carried  it 
off  on  the  point  of  his  sword,  and  the  da)'  of  fight- 
ing was  then  appointed,  but  the  Queen  adjusted 
the  affair  by  personal  interference. 


SOME   CURIOUS   EVENTS  IN  THE   LIFE  OF 
WILLIAM  THE  CONQUEROR. 

THIS  famous  prince  was   the   natural   son  of 
Robert,  Duke  of  Normandy,  and  Harlotta, 


the  daughter  of  a  tanner 


Her  name  seems  to 


WIUJAJI   THR  CONQUEROR. 

have  been  applied  to  her  as  a  designation  of  her 
disreputable  profession,  for  she  was  also  the  mother, 
by  a  different  father,  of  Odo,  Bishop  of  Baieux, 
who  was  created  Earl  of  Kent  by  his  half-brother 
after  the  latter  had  subjected  the  English  to  his 
rule.  William  was  so  little  ashamed  of  his  birth 
that  he  assumed  the  appellation  of  Bastard  in 
some  of  his  letters  and  charters. 


Odo,  during  the  reign  of  his  brother  in  Eng- 
land, amassed  a  large  fortune,  and  being  extremely 
ambitious,  he  conceived  the  idea  of  buying  the 
papacy.  It  seems  that  an  astrologer  had  foretold 
that  he  would  be  exalted  to  this  dignity  upon  the 
death  of  Gregory,  the  reigning  pontiff;  and  with 
this  end  in  view  he  resolved  to  transfer  his  riches 
to  Italy,  in  conjunction  with  several  discontented 
barons  who  had  espoused  his  cause.  William, 
from  whom  nil  these  projects  had  been  carefully 
concealed,  at  last  received  intelligence  of 
this  design,  and  ordered  the  arrest  of 
Odo.  His  officers,  imbued  with  the  su- 
perstitious reverence  of  the  clergy  which 
prevailed  at  the  time,  were  afraid  to  exe- 
cute the  command,  whereupon  the  king 
went  in  person  and  made  the  arrest.  Odo 
insisted  that,  being  a  prelate,  he  was  ex- 
empt from  temporal  jurisdiction,  to  which 
his  brother  replied  that  he  did  not  ar- 
rest him  as  a  bishop,  but  as  an  earl.  He 
was  sent  prisoner  to  Normandy,  and, 
notwithstanding  the  remonstrance  of  the 
Pope,  he  was  detained  in  custody  during 
the  remainder  of  William's  reign. 

It  was  a  fixed  maxim  of  this  reign  that 
no  native  Englishman  should  ever  be  ad- 
vanced to  any  dignity,  ecclesiastical,  civil 
or  military.  They  were  degraded  and 
humiliated  in  every  possible  manner. 
Among  other  outrages,  the  Norman 
Barons  demanded  the  right  of  passing 
the  first  three  days  with  each  newly- 
married  bride  in  their  jurisdictions,  and 
for  years  they  enforced  this  claim  under 
pretence  of  a  desire  to  raise  up  a  genera- 
tion that  would  be  friendly  to  their  in- 
terests. On  other  occasions  they  re- 
quired young  English  married  couples  to 
pass  a  night  in  a  lake  or  river  near  the 
baron's  residence,  in  water  up  to  their 
waists,  for  the  purpose,  as  they  claimed, 
of  scaring  awa3>-  the  frogs  and  preventing 
them  from  disturbing  the  slumbers  of  their  lord. 
Others  were  compelled"  to  climb  tall  trees,  and 
spend  the  night  among  the  topmost  branches, 
subjected  to  the  ridicule  of  the  rabble  beneath 
them. 

All  the  English  prelates,  with  one  exception, 
were  deposed  or  imprisoned.  Wulstan,  of  Wor- 
cester, a  man  of  inoffensive  character,  was  the  only 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


97 


one  who  escaped  the  general  proscription,  and 
remained  in  possession  of  his  dignity.  He  accom- 
plished this  through  the  performance  of  one  of 
the  miracles  of  the  day.  Having  received  his 
pastoral  staff  and 
ring  from  Edward 
the  Confessor,  he  re- 
fused to  surrender 
them  to  any  one 
else,  but  going  im- 
mediately to  King 
Edward's  tomb,  he 
struck  the  staff  so 
deeply  into  the  stone 
that  covered  it,  that 
none  but  himself 
was  able  to  pull  it 
out.  This  was  con- 
sidered so  remark- 
able a  miracle  that 
he  was  permitted  to 
retain  his  bishopric. 
Before  entering 
upon  his  expedition 
for  the  subjection  of 
England,  William 
had  declared  in 
favor  of  his  eldest 
son  Robert  as  his 
successor  to  the 
duchy  of  Nor- 
mandy, but  after- 
ward, when  Robert, 
who  was  an  ambi- 
tious and  head- 
strong  youth,  de- 
manded of  him  the 
execution  of  this 
engagement,  he 
gave  him  an  abso- 
lute refusal,  a  n  d 
told  him,  according 
to  the  homely  say- 
ing, that  he  never 
intended  to  throw 
off  his  clothes  till 
he  went  to  bed. 
Robert  openly  declared  his  discontent,  and  was 
accused  of  secretly  entering  into  an  alliance  against 
his  father  with  the  king  of  France  and  the  earl  of 
Brittany.  He  also  became  jealous  of  his  brothers, 
7 


William  and  Henry,  who,  by  their  more  gentle 
dispositions,  had  acquired  the  affections  of  their 
father. 

At  that  time  the  three  princes  were  residing  with 


PRINCE   ROBERT  ACCUSING   HIS    FATHER   OF   PARTIALITY   TOWARDS   HIS   BROTHERS. 


their  father  in  the  castle  of  E' Aigle,  in  Normandy. 
One  day  they  were  engaged  in  boyish  sport  to- 
gether, and  after  some  mirth  and  jollity,  the  two 
younger  brothers  took  a  fancy  of  throwing  over 


98 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


some  water  on  Robert  as  he  passed  through  the  court 
on  leaving  their  apartment.  He  would  naturally 
have  regarded  the  frolic  as  innocent  merriment,  had 
it  not  been  for  the  meddlesome  interference  of  a 


PRINCE    ROBERT   WOUNDS   HIS   FATHER. 


young  conspirator,  who  supposed  that  his  interests 
would  be  advanced  by  a  broil  in  the  royal  family. 
This  young  man  persuaded  the  prince  that  the  ac- 


tion of  his  brothers  was  meant  as  a  public  affront, 
which  it  behooved  him  in  honor  to  resent.  Where- 
upon the  choleric  Robert,  drawing  his  sword,  ran 
up  stairs  with  the  intention    of  taking  revenge 

upon  his  brothers. 
In  an  instant  the 
castle  was  in  a  tu- 
mult, which  the  king 
himself  was  only 
able  to  appease  after 
asserting  his  kingly 
and  paternal  author- 
ity in  the  most  ve- 
hement manner.  But 
he  could  by  no  means 
appease  the  resent- 
ment of  his  eldest 
son,  who,  instigated 
by  interested  parties, 
and  smarting  under 
what  he  considered 
to  be  a  gross  per- 
sonal insult,  left  the 
court  the  same  eve- 
ning, and,  joining  his 
fortunes  with  some 
discontented  nobles, 
engaged  in  open 
rebellion  against 
his  father.  This  was 
continued  for  several 
years,  and  grew  to 
such  dimensions  that 
William  was  com- 
pelled to  call  over  an 
army  of  English  un- 
der his  old  veteran 
captains,  who  soon 
expelled  Robert  and 
his  adherents  from 
their  retreats,  and  re- 
stored the  authority 
of  the  sovereign  in 
all  his  dominions. 
The  young  prince 
was  obliged  to  take 
shelter  in  the  castle 
of  Gerberoz,  where  he 
was  soon  besieged  by  the  English  under  his  father's 
command.  There  passed  under  the  walls  of  the 
castle  many  rencontres,  which  resembled  the  single 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


99 


combats  of  chivalry,  more  than  the  military  actions 
of  armies.  In  one  of  these  Robert  happened  to  en- 
gage the  king,  who  was  concealed  by  his  helmet, 
and,  both  being  valiant,  a  fierce  combat  ensued, 
till  at  last  the  prince 
wounded  his  father  in 
the  arm  and  unhorsed 
him.  On  calling  out 
for  assistance  his  voice 
discovered  him  to  his 
son,  who,  struck  with 
remorse,  and  fearing 
the  result  of  the  king's 
fall,  instantly  threw 
himself  at  his  father's 
feet,  earr.astly  craved 
pardon  for  his  offence, 
and  offered  to  purchase 
forgiveness  by  any 
atonement.  The  old 
king  was  too  much 
embittered  to  respond 
with  tenderness  to  this 
dutiful  submission  of 
his  son,  but  giving 
him  his  malediction, 
departed  for  his  own 
camp,  on  Robert's 
horse,  which  the  prince 
had  assisted  him  to 
mount.  He  soon  after 
raised  the  siege,  and 
marched  with  his  army 
to  Normandy,  where 
the  interposition  of  the 
queen  and  other  friends 
brought  about  a  recon- 
cilement, which  was 
probably  not  a  little 
forwarded  by  the  recol- 
lection of  his  son's 
generous  conduct  in 
their  personal  combat. 
The  king  subsequently 
took  Robert  with  him 
into    England,    where 

he  intrusted  him  with  the  command  of  an  army 
in  repelling  an  inroad  of  the  Scots. 

As  "William  advanced  in  years  he  became  very 
corpulent,  an  event  which,  strange  as  it  may  seem, 
was  the  cause  of  a  fierce  war  between  himself  and 


Philip,  king  of  France,  and  which  also  resulted  in 
William's  death.  These  events  were  brought 
about  in  the  following  manner  :  William  had 
been  detained  in  bed  for  some  time  by  an  indis- 


WIUJAM  THE   CONQUEROR   WOUNDED    BY    THE    FRIGHT   OF   HIS   HORSE. 

position  arising  from  his  excessive  fat ;  upon 
which  Philip  expressed  his  surprise  that  his 
brother  of  England  should  be  so  long  in  being  de- 
livered of  his  big  abdomen.  The  old  king,  being 
informed  of  Philip's  raillery,  sent  him  word  that,  as 


100 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


soon  as  he  was  up,  he  would  present  so  many  lights 
at  Notre  Dame,  in  Paris,  as  would  perhaps  give 
little  pleasure  to  the  king  of  France — alluding  to 
a  custom  at  that  time  of  women  after  their  confine- 
ment. Immediately  on  his  recover}'  he  proceeded 
to  put  his  threat  into  execution,  by  leading  an 
army  into  France  and  laying  the  country  waste 
with  fire  and  sword.  But  the  progress  of  hostili- 
ties was  stopped  by  an  accident  which  soon  after 
put  an  end  to  William's  life.  His  horse,  one  day, 
starting  suddenly  aside,  he  bruised  his  abdomen 
on  the  pommel  of  his  saddle  ;  and  being  advanced 
in  years,  as  well  as  in  a  bad  state  of  health,  he 
apprehended  serious  consequences,  and  ordered 
himself  to  be  carried  in  a  litter  to  the  monastery 
of  St.  Gervas.  As  he  saw  death  approaching  he 
began  to  repent  of  the  evil  he  had  done,  and  ac- 
cording to  the  customs  of  those  days,  sought 
atonement  for  his  sins  by  making  presents  to  the 
churches  and  monasteries.  He  expired  in  the 
sixty-third  year  of  his  age,  having  reigned  over 
England  twenty-one  years  and  over  the  duchy 
of  Normandy  fifty-four. 


THE    CRUSADES. 

C'HOSE  remarkable  irruptions  known  as  the 
'  Crusades  began  first  to  engage  the  attention 
of  the  nations  of  Europe  about  1096.  They 
were  the  most  signal  and  durable  monuments  of 
human  folly  that  have  appeared  in  any  age  or 
country.  After  Mahomet  had,  by  means  of  his 
pretended  revelations,  united  the  Arabian  tribes 
under  one  head,  and  infused  into  them  a  spirit  of 
religious  fanaticism  such  as  the  world  never  wit- 
nessed before  or  since,  they  issued  forth  from  their 
deserts  in  great  multitudes  and  rapidly  overran 
and  conquered  the  eastern  nations.  Jerusalem 
was  one  of  their  earliest  conquests,  and  the  Chris- 
tians had  the  mortification  to  see  the  holy  sepul- 
chre and  other  consecrated  places  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  the  infidels.  But  the  Arabians  or  Sara- 
cens were  so  employed  in  military  enterprises  that 
they  had  no  leisure  for  theological  controversy, 
and  the  pilgrims  who  flocked  daily  to  Jerusalem 
were  but  little  disturbed  by  them.  Even*  man,  on 
the  payment  of  a  moderate  tribute,  was  allowed  to 
visit  the  hoi}-  sepulchre,  perforin  his  religious  du- 
ties, and  return  in  peace.  This  was  all  changed, 
however,  in  the  year  1065,  when  the  Turks  wrested 
Syria  from  the  Saracens  and  made  themselves 
masters  of  Jerusalem.    The  barbarity  of  their  man- 


ners, and  the  confusion  attending  their  unsettled 
government,  rendered  pilgrimages  much  more  diffi- 
cult and  dangerous  to  the  Christians.  The  pil- 
grims were  robbed,  insulted,  and  otherwise  abused  ; 
and,  returning  from  their  perilous  journeys,  now 
filled  all  Europe  with  indignation  against  the 
infidels. 

About  this  time,  Peter,  commonly  called  the 
"  Hermit,"  a  native  of  the  city  of  Amiens,  made  a 
pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem,  and  being  deeply  afflicted 
by  the  dangers  and  insults  to  which  he  was  sub- 
jected, he  formed  the  bold  idea  of  raising  an  army 
among  the  Christian  nations  of  sufficient  strength  to 
subdue  the  warhke  tribes  that  were  destroying  the 
holy  city,  and,  placing  himself  at  their  head,  led 
them  forward  to  conquest  and  dominion.  He  pro- 
posed his  views  to  Urban  II.  (Hume  has  it 
Martin,  IV.,  evidently  an  error),  then  occupying 
the  papal  chair,  who,  being  impressed  by  the  fer- 
vor and  zeal  of  Peter,  summoned  a  council  at  Placen- 
tia,  which  consisted  of  four  thousand  ecclesiastics 
and  thirty  thousand  laymen,  and  which  was  so 
numerous  that  it  was  necessary  to  hold  the  assem- 
blages in  the  open  plain,  as  no  hall  could  be  found 
large  enough  to  contain  so  great  a  multitude.  The 
harangues  of  Peter  and  the  pope  were  of  such  an 
inflammatory  character,  and  the  minds  of  their  au- 
ditors so  well  prepared  to  entertain  desperate  pro- 
jects like  the  one  proposed,  that  the  whole  multi- 
tude suddenly  and  violently  declared  for  Avar,  de- 
voting themselves,  as  they  supposed,  to  the  ser- 
vice of  God  and  their  religion. 

But  the  pope  knew  that,  in  order  to  assure  suc- 
cess, it  would  be  necessary  to  enlist  greater  and 
more  warlike  nations  than  those  which  were  con- 
fined to  Italy ;  and  having  previously  exhorted 
Peter  to  visit  the  chief  cities  and  sovereigns  of 
Christendom,  he  summoned  another  council,  at 
Clermont,  in  Auvergne.  The  fame  of  the  great 
and  pious  design  being  now  universally  diffused, 
procured  the  attendance  of  the  greatest  prelates, 
nobles  and  princes  ;  and  when  the  pope  and  the 
hermit  renewed  their  pathetic  appeals,  the  whole 
assembly,  as  if  impelled  by  an  immediate  inspira- 
tion, exclaimed  with  one  voice,  "It  is  the  will  of 
God!  It  is  :hc  will  of  God  /" — words  deemed  so 
memorable,  and  so  much  the  result  of  a  divine  in- 
fluence, that  they  were  employed  as  the  sig- 
nal of  rendezvous  and  battle  in  all  the  future 
exploits  of  these  adventurers.  Men  of  all 
ranks    flew   to    arms    with    the     utmost     ardor, 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


101 


and  the  sign  of  the  cross,  affixed  to  the  right 
shoulder  of  all  who  enlisted  themselves  in  this 
sacred  war,  and  emblazoned  on  the  standards,  be- 
came the  badge  of  union  and  the  emblem  under 
which  they  fought. 

All  orders  of  men, 
deeming  the  cru- 
sades an  open  road 
to  heaven,  enlisted 
themselves  under 
the  sacred  banner, 
and  were  impatient 
to  open  the  way 
with  their  swords  to 
the  holy  city.  The 
infirm  and  the  aged 
contributed  to  the 
expeditious  by  pre- 
sents and  money, 
wdiile  many  attended 
in  person,  deter- 
mined to  breathe 
their  last  in  sight  of 
the  city  where  their 
Saviour  had  died  for 
them.  Even  women, 
concealing  their  sex 
under  the  disguise 
,of  armor,  enlisted  in 
the  ranks,  and  by 
their  presence  and 
example  increased 
the  general  fury  and 
excitement.  M  u  r  - 
derers  and  criminals 
of  all  classes  hast- 
ened to  join  the  ser- 
vice, as  ail  expia- 
tion of  their  crimes 
and  an  atonement 
for  everj'  violation 
of  justice  and  hu- 
manity. 

Finally  this  undis- 
ciplined and  fanati- 
cal mob  took  its  way 
toward  Constantino- 
ple, passing  through 

Hungary  and  Bulgaria  ;  and,  trusting  that  Heaven, 
by  supernatural  assistance,  would  supply  all  their 
aecessities,  they  made  no  provision  for  subsistence 


on  the  march.  They  soon  found  themselves 
obliged  to  obtain  by  plunder  what  they  did  not 
receive  from  miracles  ;  and  the  enraged  inhabitants 
of  the  countries  through  which  they  passed,  gath- 


PETER  THE   HERMIT,    AND    THE   POPE,    AROUSING   THE   PEOPLE   TO    RELIGIOUS   FRENZY. 

ering  together  in  arms,  attacked  the  disorderly 
multitude,  and  slaughtered  them  by  thousands. 
The  disciplined  armies  followed  after ;  and  passing 


1012 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


the  straits  at  Constantinople,  they  were  mustered 
in  the  plains  of  Asia,  and  amounted  in  the  whole 
to  the  enormous  number  of  seven  hundred  thou- 
sand combatants,  besides  camp  followers  and 
women  and  children,  composing  an  army  almost, 
if  not  quite,  so  great  as  the  one  which  Xerxes  led 
against  the  Greeks. 

The  crusades  continued,  with  more  or  less  vigor, 
throughout  the  eleventh,  twelfth  and  thirteenth 
centuries,  and  they  constitute  one  of  the  most  ro- 
mantic and  remarkable  events  in  the  history  of  na- 
tions. Their  leading  object  was  not  attained,  but, 
by  the  commingling  of  different  nations  in  a  com- 
mon pursuit,  they  laid  the  foundations  of  the 
future  civilization  of  Europe,  and  thus,  like  nearly 
all  great  popular  commotions,  were  not  barren  of 
good  results. 

Other  interesting  facts,  personal  incidents,  and 
many  heroic  deeds  connected  with  the  crusades, 
are  related  in  other  portions  of  this  volume. 


NAPOLEON   AT  WATERLOO. 

nAPOLEON,  the  greatest  French  General,  and 
perhaps  the  greatest  of  any  or  all  countries, 
fought  and  lost  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  as  every 
one  knows.  It  seems  eminently  proper,  therefore, 
that  the  grandest  description  of  this  or  any  other 
battle,  should  be  written  by  the  greatest  French 
author — Victor  Hugo. 

Napoleon  in  Good  Humor. 

The  emperor,  though  ill  and  suffering  on  horse- 
back from  a  local  injury,  had  never  been  so  good- 
tempered  as  on  this  da}'.  From  the  morning  his 
impenetrability  had  been  smiling,  and  on  June  18, 
1S15,  this  profound  soul,  coated  with  granite,  was 
radiant.  The  man  who  had  been  sombre  at  Aus- 
terlitz  was  gay  at  Waterloo.  The  greatest  predes- 
tined men  offer  these  contradictions,  for  our  joys 
are  a  shadow  and  the  supreme  smile  belongs  to 
God. 

Ridct  Caesar,  Pompcius  flcbit,  the  legionaries  of 
the  Fulminatrix  used  to  say.  On  this  occasion 
Pompey  was  not  destined  to  weep,  but  it  is  certain 
that  Ciesar  laughed. 

At  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  amid  the  rain 
and  storm,  he  had  explored  with  Bertrand  the  hills 
near  Rossomme,  and  was  pleased  to  see  the  long 
lines  of  English  fires  illumining  the  horizon  from 
Frischemont  to  Braine  l'Alleud.  It  seemed  to 
him  as  if  destiny  had  made  an  appointment  with 
him  on  a  fixed  day  and  was  punctual.   He  stopped 


his  horse,  and  remained  for  some  time  motionless, 
looking  at  the  lightning  and  listening  to  the 
thunder.  The  fatalist  was  heard  to  cast  into  the 
night  the  mysterious  words,  "We  are  agreed." 
Napoleon  was  mistaken ;  they  were  no  longer 
agreed. 

He  had  not  slept  for  a  moment ;  all  the  instants 
of  the  past  night  had  been  marked  with  joy  for 
him.  He  rode  through  the  entire  line  of  main 
guards,  stopping  even-  now  and  then  to  speak  to 
the  videttes.  At  half-past  two  he  heard  the  sound 
of  a  marching  column  near  Hougoumont,  and 
believed  for  a  moment  in  a  retreat  on  the  side  of 
Wellington.  He  said  to  Bertrand,  "The  English 
rear-guard  is  preparing  to  decamp.  I  shall  take 
prisoners  the  six  thousand  English  who  have  just 
landed  at  Osteud."  He  talked  cheerfully,  and 
had  regained  the  spirits  he  had  displayed  during 
the  landing  of  March  1,  when  he  showed  to  the 
grand  marshal  the  enthusiastic  peasant  of  the 
Juan  Gulf  and  said,  "Well,  Bertrand,  here  is  a 
re-enforcement  already."  On  the  night  between 
June  17th  and  iSth  he  made  fun  of  Wellington. 
"This  little  Englishman  requires  a  lesson,"  said 
Napoleon.  The  rain  became  twice  as  violent. 
And  it  thundered  while  the  emperor  was  speaking. 

At  half-past  three  A.  M.  he  lost  one  illusion ; 
officers  sent  to  reconnoitre  informed  him  that  the 
enemy  was  making  no  movement.  Nothing  was 
stirring,  not  a  single  bivouac  fire  wasextinguished, 
and  the  English  army  was  sleeping.  The  silence 
was  profound  on  earth,  and  there  was  only  noise 
in  the  heavens.  At  four  o'clock  a  peasant  was 
brought  to  him  -by  the  scouts ;  this  peasant  had 
served  as  guide  to  a  brigade  of  English  cavalry, 
probably  Vivian's,  which  had  taken  up  a  position 
on  the  extreme  left  in  the  village  of  Ohain.  At 
five  o'clock  two  Belgian  deserters  informed  him 
that  the}-  had  just  left  their  regiments,  and  the 
English  army  meant  fighting.  "  All  the  better, " 
cried  Napoleon.  "  I  would  sooner  crush  them 
than  drive  them  back." 

At  daybreak  he  dismounted  on  the  slope  which 
forms  the  angle  of  the  Plancenoit  road,  had  a 
kitchen  table  and  a  peasant's  chair  brought  from 
the  farm  of  Rossomme,  sat  down  with  a  truss  of 
straw  for  a  carpet,  and  laid  on  the  table  the  map 
of  the  battle-field,  saying  to  Soult,  "  It  is  a  pretty 
chess-board. ' ' 

Owing  to  the  night  rain,  the  commissariat  wag- 
ons, which   stuck   in  the   muddy   roads,  did  not 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


10:= 


arrive  by  daybreak.  The  troops  had  not  slept, 
were  wet  through  and  fasting,  but  this  did  not 
prevent  Xapoleon  from  exclaiming  cheerfully  to 
Soult,  "  We  have  ninety  chances  out  of  a  hundred 
in  our  favor."  At  eight  o'clock  the  emperor's 
breakfast  was  brought,  and  he  invited  several 
generals  to  share  it  with  him.  While  breakfast- 
ing, somebody  said  that  Wellington  had  been  the 
last  evening  but  one  at  a  ball  in  Brussels,  and 
Soult, the  rough  soldier,  with  his  archbishop's  face, 
remarked,  "The  ball  will  be  to-day."  The  em- 
peror teased  Ney  for  saying,  ' '  Wellington  will 
not  be  so  simple  as  to  wait  for  your  majesty." 
This  was  his  usual  manner.  "He  was  fond  of  a 
joke,"  says  Fleury  de  Chaboulon  ;  "The  basis 
of  his  character  was  a  pleasant  humor,"  says 
Gourgaud  ;  ' '  He  abounded  with  jests  more  pecu- 
liar than  witty,"  says  Benjamin  Constant.  The 
gayety  of  the  giant  is  worth  dwelling  on  ;  it  was 
he  who  called  his  grenadiers  ' '  Growlers  ;  "  he 
pinched  their  ears  and  pulled  their  mustaches. 
"The  emperor  was  always  playing  tricks  with 
us,"  was  the  remark  made  by  one  of  the  them. 

During  the  mysterious  passage  from  Elba  to 
France,  on  February  27,  the  French  brig  of  war, 
the  Zephyr,  met  the  Inconstant,  on  board  which 
Napoleon  was  concealed,  and  inquiring  after 
Napoleon,  the  emperor,  who  still  had  in  his  hat 
the  white  and  violet  cockade  studded  with  bees, 
which  he  had  adopted  at  Elba,  himself  laugh- 
ingly took  up  the  speaking-trumpet,  and  answered, 
"The  emperor  is  quite  well."  A  man  who  jests 
in  this  way  is  on  familiar  terms  with  events. 
Napoleon  had  several  outbursts  of  this  laughter 
during  the  breakfast  at  Waterloo  ;  after  breakfast 
he  reflected  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ;  then  two 
generals  sat  down  on  the  truss  of  straw,  each  with 
a  pen  in  his  hand  and  a  sheet  of  paper  on  his 
knee,  and  the  emperor  dictated  to  them  the  plan 
of  the  battle. 

At  nine  o'clock,  the  moment  when  the  French 
arm}-,  echelonned  and  moving  in  five  columns, 
began  to  deploy,  the  divisions  in  two  lines,  the 
artillery  between,  the  bands  in  front,  drums  rat- 
tling and  bugles  braying, — a  powerful,  might}-, 
joyous  army,  a  sea  of  bayonets  and  helmets  on  the 
horizon, —  the  emperor,  much  affected,  twice  ex- 
claimed, "Magnificent!  magnificent!" 

Between  nine  and  half-past  ten,  although  it 
seems  incredible,  the  whole  army  took  up  posi- 
tion, and  was  drawn  up  in  six  lines,  forming,  to 


repeat  the  emperor's  expression,  "the  figure  of 
six  Vs."  A  few  minutes  after  the  formation  of 
the  line,  and  in  the  midst  of  that  profound  silence 
which  precedes  the  storm  of  battle,  the  emperor, 
seeing  three  twelve-pounder  batteries  defile,  which 
had  been  detached  by  his  orders  from  Erlon, 
Reille  and  Lobau's  brigades,  and  which  were  in- 
tended to  begin  the  action  at  the  spot  where  the 
Nevilles  and  Genappe  roads  crossed,  tapped  Haxo 
on  the  shoulder,  and  said,  "There  are  twenty- 
four  pretty  girls,  general." 

Sure  of  the  result,  he  encouraged  with  a  smile 
the  company  of  sappers  of  the  first  corps  as  it 
passed  him,  which  he  had  selected  to  barricade 
itself  in  Mont  St.  Jean  so  soon  as  the  village  was 
carried.  All  this  security  was  only  crossed  by 
one  word  of  human  pity  ;  on  seeing  at  his  left,  at 
the  spot  where  there  is  now  a  large  tomb,  the  ad- 
mirable Scotch  Greys  massed  with  their  superb 
horses,  he  said,  "  It  is  a  pity." 

Then  he  mounted  his  horse,  rode  toward  Ros- 
somme,  and  selected  as  his  observatory  a  narrow 
strip  of  grass  on  the  right  side  of  the  road  run- 
ning from  Genappe  to  Brussels,  and  this  was  his 
second  station.  The  third  station,  the  one  he 
took  at  seven  in  the  evening,  is  formidable — it  is 
a  rather  lofty  mound  which  still  exists,  and 
behind  which  the  guard  was  massed  in  a  hollow. 
Around  this  mound  the  balls  ricochetted  on  the 
pavement  of  the  road  and  reached  Napoleon.  As 
at  Brienne,  he  had  round  his  head  the  whistle  of 
bullets  and  canister.  Almost  at  the  spot  where 
his  horse's  hoofs  stood,  cannon-balls,  old  sabre- 
blades,  and  shapeless  rust-eaten  projectiles,  scabra 
titbighic,  have  been  picked  up  ;  a  few  years  ago  a 
live  shell  was  dug  up,  the  fuse  of  which  had 
broken  off.  It  was  at  this  station  that  the  em- 
peror said  to  his  guide,  Eacoste,  a  hostile,  timid 
peasant,  who  was  fastened  to  a  hussar's  saddle, 
and  tried  at  each  volley  of  canister  to  hide  behind 
Napoleon,  "  You  ass,  it  is  shameful  ;  you  will  be 
killed  in  the  back."  The  person  who  is  writing 
these  lines  himself  found,  while  digging  up  the 
sand  in  the  friable  slope  of  this  mound,  the  re- 
mains of  a  shell  rotted  by  the  oxide  of  forty-six 
years,  and  pieces  of  iron  which  broke  like  sticks 
of  barley-sugar  between  his  fingers. 

Everybody  is  aware  that  the  undulations  of 
the  plains  on  which  the  encounter  between  Na- 
poleon and  Wellington  took  place,  are  no  longer 
as   they   were    on    June    iS,    1815.      On    taking 


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THE   BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


105 


from  this  mournful  plain  the  material  to  make  a 
monument,  it  was  deprived  of  its  real  relics,  and 
history,  disconcerted,  no  longer  recognizes  itself; 
in  order  to  glorify,  they  disfigured.  Wellington, 
on  seeing  Waterloo  two  years  after,  exclaimed, 
"  My  battle-field  has  been  altered  !  "  Where  the 
hugh  pyramid  of  earth  surmounted  by  a  lion  now 
stands,  there  was  a  crest  which  on  the  side  of  the 
Nivelles  road  had  a  practicable  ascent,  but  which 
on  the  side  of  the  Genappe  road  was  almost  an 
escarpment.  The  elevation  of  this  escarpment 
may  still  be  imagined  by  the  height  of  the 
two  great  tombs  which  skirt  the  road  from 
Genappe  to  Brussels ;  the  English  tomb 
on  the  left,  the  German  tomb  on  the  right. 
There  is  no  French  tomb — for  France,  the  whole 
plain  is  a  sepulchre.  Through  the  thousands  of 
cart-loads  of  earth  employed  in  erecting  the 
mound,  which  is  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high 
and  half  a  mile  in  circumference,  the  plateau  on 
Mont  St.  Jean  is  now  accessible  by  a  gentle  incline, 
but  on  the  day  of  the  battle,  and  especially  on  the 
side  of  La  Have  Sainte,  it  was  steep  and  abrupt. 
The  incline  was  so  sharp  that  the  English  gun- 
ners could  not  see  beneath  them  the  farm  situated 
in  the  bottom  of  the  valley,  which  was  the  centre 
of  the  fight.  On  June  iS,  1815,  the  rain  had  ren- 
dered the  steep  road  more  difficult,  and  the  troops 
not  only  had  to  climb  up,  but  slipped  in  the  mud. 
Along  the  centre  of  the  crest  of  the  plateau  ran  a 
species  of  ditch,  which  it  was  impossible  for  a 
distant  observer  to  guess. 

We  will  state  what  this  ditch  was.  Braine 
1'  Alleud  is  a  Belgian  village  and  Ohain  is  another  ; 
these  villages,  both  concealed  in  hollows,  are  con- 
nected by  a  road  about  a  league  and  a  half  in 
length,  which  traverses  an  undulating  plain,  and 
frequently  buries  itself  between  hills,  so  as  to  be- 
come at  certain  spots  a  ravine.  In  18 15,  as  to- 
day, this  road  crossed  the  crest  of  the  plateau  of 
Mont  St.  Jean,  but  at  the  present  day  it  is  level 
with  the  ground,  while  at  that  time  it  was  a  hol- 
low way.  The  two  slopes  have  been  carried  away 
to  form  the  monumental  mound.  This  road  was, 
and  still  is,  a  trench  for  the  greater  part  of  the 
distance  :  a  hollow  trench,  in  some  places  twelve 
fee;  deep,  whose  scarped  sides  were  washed  down 
here  and  there  by  the  winter  rains.  Accidents  oc- 
curred there  ;  the  road  was  so  narrow  where  it  en- 
tered Braine  1' Alleud,  that  a  wayfarer  was  crushed 
there  by  a  wagon,  as  is  proved  by  a  stone  cross 


standing  near  the  graveyard,  which  gives  the  name 
of  the  dead  man  as  "  Monsieur  Bernard  Debrye, 
trader  of  Brussels,  and  the  date,  February, 
1637."  It  was  so  deep  on  the  plateau  of  Mont  St. 
Jean,  that  a  peasant,  one  Mathieu  Nicaise,  was 
crushed  there  in  1 783  by  a  fall  of  earth,  as  is  proved 
by  another  stone  cross,  the  top  of  which  disap- 
peared in  the  excavation,  but  whose  overthrown 
pedestal  is  still  visible  on  the  grass  slope  to  the 
left  of  the  road  between  La  Haye  Sainte  and  the 
farm  of  Mont  St.  Jean. 

On  the  day  of  the  battle,  this  hollow  waj', 
whose  existence  nothing  revealed,  a  trench  on  the 
top  of  the  escarpment,  a  rut  hidden  in  the  earth, 
was  invisible,  that  is  to  say,  terrible. 

The  Emperor  asks  the  Guide  a  Question. 

On  the  morning  of  Waterloo,  then,  Napoleon 
was  cheerful.  He  had  reason  to  be  so,  for  the 
plan  he  had  drawn  up  was  admirable. 

Once  the  battle  had  begun,  its  various  inci- 
dents, the  resistance  of  Hougoumont  ;  the  tenacity 
of  La  Haye  Sainte ;  Bauduin  killed  and  Foy 
placed  hors  de  combat;  the  unexpected  wall 
against  which  Soye's  brigade  was  broken  ;  the 
fatal  stupidity  of  Guilleminot,  who  had  no  pe- 
tards or  powder-bags  to  destroy  the  farm  gates ; 
the  sticking  of  the  artillery  in  the  mud  ;  the  fif- 
teen guns  without  escort  captured  by  Uxbridge 
in  a  hollow  way  ;  the  slight  effect  of  the  shells 
falling  in  the  English  lines,  which  buried  them- 
selves in  the  moistened  ground,  and  only  produced 
a  volcano  of  mud,  so  that  the  troops  were  merely 
plastered  with  mud  ;  the  inutility  of  Piret's 
demonstration  on  Braine  1' Alleud,  and  the  whole 
of  its  cavalry,  fifteen  squadrons,  almost  annihi- 
lated ;  the  English  right  hut  slightly  disquieted 
and  the  left  poorly  attacked  ;  Ney's  strange  mis- 
take in  massing  instead  of  echelonning  the  four 
divisions  of  the  first  corps  ;  a  depth  of  twenty- 
seven  ranks  and  a  line  of  two  hundred  men 
given  up  in  this  way  to  the  canister  ;  the  frightful 
gaps  made  by  the  cannon-balls  in  these  masses ; 
the  attacking  columns  disunited  ;  the  oblique 
battery  suddenly  unmasked  on  their  flank  ;  Bour- 
geois, Donzelot,  and  Burette  in  danger ;  Quiot 
repulsed  ;  Lieutenant  Yiot,  that  Hercules  who 
came  from  the  polytechnic  school,  wounded  at 
the  moment  when  he  was  beating  in  with  an  axe 
the  gates  of  La  Haye  Sainte,  under  the  plunging 
fire  of  the  English  barricade  on  the  Genappe 
road  ;  Marcognet's  division  caught   between  in- 


106 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


fantry  and  cavalry,  shot  down  from  the  wheat  by 
Best  and  Pack,  and  sabred  by  Ponsonby  ;  its 
batten-  of  seven  guns  spiked  ;  the  Prince  of  Saxe 
Weimar  holding  and  keeping,  in  defiance  of 
Count  d'Erlon,  Frischemont  and  Smohain  ;  the 
flags  of  the  105th  and  45th  regiments  captured  ; 
the  Prussian  black  Hussar  arrested  by  the  scouts 
of  the  flying  column  of  three  hundred  chasseurs, 


turbed  his  glance  or  cast  a  gloom  over  his  impe- 
rial face.  Napoleon  was  accustomed  to  look 
steadily  at  war  ;  he  never  reckoned  up  the  poig- 
nant details  ;  he  cared  little  for  figures,  provided 
that  the}-  gave  him  the  total — victors-.  If  the  com- 
mencement went  wrong,  he  did  not  alarm  him- 
self, as  he  believed  himself  master  and  owner  of 
the  end  ;  he  knew  how  to  wait,  and  treated  Des- 


THE   DEAD    TRUMPETER   BEFORE    HOl'GOUMONT. 


who  were  beating  the  country  between  Wavre 
and  Plancenoit ;  the  alarming  things  which  this 
man  said  ;  Grouchy' s  delay  ;  the  fifteen  hundred 
men  killed  in  less  than  an  hour  in  the  orchard 
of  Hougoumont ;  the  eighteen  hundred  laid  low 
even  in  a  shorter  space  of  time  round  La  Have 
Sainte;  all  these  stormy  incidents,  passing  like 
battle-clouds  before    Napoleon,   had  scarce    dis- 


tiny  as  an  equal.  He  seemed  to  saj'  to  Fate, 
"  You  would  not  dare."  One-half  light,  one-half 
shade.  Napoleon  felt  himself  protected  in  good 
and  tolerated  in  evil.  There  was,  or  he  fancied 
there  was,  for  him  a  connivance,  we  might  say, 
almost  a  complicity,  on  the  part  of  events,  equiva- 
lent to  the  ancient  invulnerability. 

Yet,  when  a  man  has  behind  him  the  Beresina, 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


107 


Leipzig,  and  Fontainebleau,  it  seems  as  if  he 
could  be  distrustful  of  Waterloo.  A  mysterious 
frown  becomes  visible  on  the  face  of  heaven. 

At  the  moment  when  Wellington  retrograded, 
Napoleon  quivered.  He  suddenly  saw  the  plateau 
of  Mont  St.  Jean  deserted,  and  the  front  of  the 
English  army  disappear.  It  was  rallying,  but 
was  out  of  sight. 

The  emperor  half  raised  himself  in  his  stirrups, 
and  the  flash  of  victory  passed  into  his  eyes.  If 
Wellington  were  driven  back  into  the  forest  of 
Soignies  and  destroyed,  it  would  be  the  definitive 
overthrow  of  England  by  France.  It  would  be 
Crecy,  Poictiers,  Malplaquet,  and  Ramillies 
avenged ;  the  man  of  Marengo  would  erase 
Agincourt. 

The  emperor,  while  meditating  on  this  tremen- 
dous denouement,  turned  his  telescope  to  all  parts 
of  the  battle-field.  His  Guards,  standing  at  ease 
behind  him,  gazed  at  him  with  a  sort  of  religious 
awe.  He  was  reflecting,  he  examined  the  slopes, 
noted  the  inclines,  scrutinized  the  clumps  of 
trees,  the  patches  of  barley,  and  the  paths ;  he 
seemed  to  be  counting  every  tuft  of  gorse.  He 
looked  with  some  fixity  at  the  English  barricades, 
two  large  masses  of  felled  trees,  the  one  on  the 
Genappe  road  defended  by  two  guns,  the  only 
ones  of  all  the  English  artillery'  which  com- 
manded the  battle-field,  and  the  one  on  the 
Nivelles  road,  behind  which  flashed  the  Dutch 
bayonets  of  Chasse's  brigade.  He  remarked 
near  this  barricade  the  old  chapel  of  St.  Nicholas, 
which  is  at  the  corner  of  the  cross-road  leading 
to  Braine  l'Alleud.  He  bent  down  and  spoke  in 
a  low  voice  to  the  guide  Lacoste.  The  guide 
shook  his  head  with  a  probably  perfidious  negative. 

The  emperor  drew  himself  up  and  reflected. 

Wellington  was  retiring. 

All  that  was  needed  now  was  to  complete  this 
retreat  by  an  overthrow. 

Napoleon  hurriedly  turned  and  sent  off  a  mes- 
senger at  full  speed  to  Paris  to  announce  that  the 
battle  was  gained. 

Napoleon  was  one  of  the  geniuses  from  whom 
thunder  issues.  He  had  just  found  his  thunder- 
stroke. 

He  gave  Milhaud's  cuirassiers  orders  to  carry 
the  plateau  of  Mont.  St.  Jean. 

A  Surprise. 

They  were  three  thousand  five  hundred  in 
number,  and  formed  a  front  a  quarter  of  a  league 


in  length ;  they  were  gigantic  men  mounted  on 
colossal  horses.  They  formed  twenty-six  squad- 
rons, and  had  behind  them  as  a  support,  Eefebvre 
Desnouette's  division,  composed  of  the  one  hun- 
dred and  sixty  gendarmes,  the  chasseurs  of  the 
Guard,  eleven  hundred  and  ninety-seven  sabres, 
and  the  lancers  of  the  Guard,  eight  hundred  and 
eighty  lances.  They  wore  a  helmet  without  a 
plume,  and  a  cuirass  of  wrought  steel,  and  were 
armed  with  pistols  and  a  straight  sabre.  In  the 
morning  the  whole  army  had  admired  them  when 
they  came  up  at  nine  o'clock  with  bugles  sound- 
ing, while  all  the  bands  played  "  Veillous  au  salut 
de  1' Empire."  inclose  column  with  one  battery 
on  their  flank,  the  others  in  their  centre,  and  de- 
ployed in  two  ranks,  and  took  their  place  in  that 
powerful  second  line,  so  skilfully  formed  by 
Napoleon,  which,  having  at  its  extreme  left  Kel- 
lerman's  cuirassiers,  and  on  its  extreme  right 
Milhaud's  cuirassiers,  seemed  to  be  endowed  with 
two  wings  of  steel. 

The  aide-de-camp,  Bernard,  carried  to  them  the 
emperor's  order.  Ney  drew  his  sabre  and  placed 
himself  at  their  head,  and  the  mighty  squadron 
started. 

Then  a  formidable  spectacle  was  seen. 

The  whole  of  this  cavalry,  with  raised  sabres, 
with  standards  flying,  and  formed  in  columns  of 
division,  descended  with  one  movement  and  as 
one  man,  with  the  precision  of  a  bronze  battering- 
ram  opening  a  breach,  the  hill  of  the  Belle  Alli- 
ance. They  entered  the  formidable  valley  in 
which  so  many  men  had  already  fallen,  disap- 
peared in  the  smoke,  and  then,  emerging  from  the 
gloom,  re-appeared  on  the  other  side  of  the  valley, 
still  in  a  close,  compact  column,  mounting  at  a  trot, 
under  a  tremendous  canister  fire,  the  frightful 
muddy  incline  of  the  plateau  of  Mont.  St.  Jean. 
They  ascended  it,  stern,  threatening,  and  imper- 
turbable ;  between  the  breaks  in  the  artillery  and 
musketry  fire,  the  colossal  tramp  could  be  heard. 
As  they  formed  two  divisions,  they  were  in  two 
columns:  Wathier's  division  was  on  the  right, 
Delord's  on  the  left.  One  seemed  to  see  from  a 
distance  two  immense  steel  snakes  crawling  to- 
ward the  crest  of  the  plateau ;  they  had  traversed 
the  battle-field  like  a  flash. 

Nothing  like  it  had  been  seen  since  the  capture 
of  the  great  redoubt  of  the  Moskova  by  the 
heavy  cavalry  ;  Murat  was  missing,  but  Ney  was 
there.     It  seemed  as  if  this  mass  had  become  a 


108 


THE   WONDERFUL.   THE   CURIOUS,    AND   THE 


monster,  and  had  but  one  soul  :  each  squadron 
undulated  and  swelled  like  the  rings  of  a  polyp. 
This  could  be  seen  through  a  vast  smoke  which 
was  rent  asunder  at  intervals  ;  it  was  a  pell-mell 
of  helmets,  shouts,  and  sabres,  a  stormy  bound- 
ing of  horses  among  camion,  and  a  disciplined 
and  terrible  array  :  while  above  it  all  flashed  the 
cuirasses  like  the  scales  of  the  dragon. 

It  was  a  curious  numerical  coincidence  that 
twenty-six  battalions  were  preparing  to  receive 
the  charge  of  these  twenty-six  squadrons. 
Behind  the  crest  of  the  plateau,  in  the  shadow  of 
the  masked  battery,  thirteen  English  squares, 
each  of  two  battalions  and  formed  two  deep,  with 
seven  men  in  the  first  lines  and  six  in  the  second, 
were  waiting,  calm,  dumb,  and  motionless,  with 
their  muskets,  for  what  was  coming.  They  did 
not  see  the  cuirassiers,  and  the  cuirassiers  did  not 
see  them  ;  they  merely  heard  this  tide  of  men  as- 
cending. The}-  heard  the  swelling  sound  of  three 
thousand  horses,  the  alternating  and  symmetrical 
sound  of  the  hoof,  the  clang  of  the  cuirasses,  the 
clash  of  the  sabres,  and  a  species  of  great  and 
formidable  breathing.  There  was  a  long,  a  terrible 
silence,  and  then  a  long  file  of  raised  arms  bran- 
dishing sabres  and  helmets,  and  bugles  and  stan- 
dards, and  three  thousand  heads  with  great  mus- 
taches, shouting,  "  Long  live  the  emperor  !  "  ap- 
peared above  the  crest.  The  whole  of  this  cavalry 
debouched  on  the  plateau,  and  it  was  like  the 
commencement  of  an  earthquake. 

All  at  once,  terrible  to  relate,  the  head  of  the 
column  of  cuirassiers  facing  the  English  left, 
reared  with  a  fearful  clamor.  On  reaching  the 
culminating  point  of  the  crest,  furious  and  eager 
to  make  their  exterminating  dash  on  the  English 
squares  and  guns,  the  cuirassiers  noticed  between 
them  and  the  English  a  trench — a  grave.  It  was 
the  hollow  road  of  Ohain. 

It  was  a  frightful  moment — the  ravine  was 
there,  unexpected,  yawning,  almost  precipitous, 
beneath  the  horses'  feet,  and  with  a  depth  of 
twelve  feet  between  its  two  sides.  The  second 
rank  thrust  the  first  into  the  abyss  ;  the  horses 
reared,  fell  back,  slipped  with  all  four  feet  in  the 
air.  crushing  and  throwing  their  riders.  There 
was  no  means  of  escaping  ;  the  entire  column  was 
one  huge  projectile.  The  force  acquired  to  crush 
the  English  crushed  the  French,  and  the  inexor- 
able ravine  would  not  yield  till  it  was  filled  up. 
Men  and  horses  rolled  into  it  pell-mell,  crushing 


each  other,  and  making  one  huge  charnel-house 
of  the  gulf,  and  when  this  grave  was  full  of  living 
men  the  rest  passed  over  them.  Nearly  one-third 
of  Dubois's  men  rolled  into  the  abyss. 

This  commenced  the  loss  of  the  battle. 

A  local  tradition,  which  evidently  exaggerates, 
says  that  two  thousand  horses  and  fifteen  hundred 
men  were  buried  in  the  hollow-way  of  Ohain. 
These  figures  probably  comprised  the  other 
corpses  cast  into  the  ravine  on  the  da}-  after  the 
battle. 

Let  us  note  in  passing  that  in  this  brigade 
Dubois  was  the  one  who,  charging  alone,  an  hour 
before,  had  taken  the  Hanoverian  standard. 

Napoleon,  before  ordering  this  charge,  had  sur- 
veyed the  ground,  but  had  been  unable  to  see  this 
hollow-way,  which  did  not  form  even  a  ripple  on 
the  crest  of  the  plateau.  Warned,  however,  By 
the  little  white  chapel  which  marked  its  juncture 
with  the  Nevilles  road,  he  had  asked  Lacoste  a 
question,  probably  as  to  whether  there  was  any 
obstacle.  The  guide  answered  no,  and  we  might 
say  almost  that  Napoleon's  catastrophe  was 
brought  about  by  the  peasant's  shake  of  the  head. 

Other  fatalities  were  yet  to  arise. 

Was  it  possible  for  Napoleon  to  win  the  battle  ? 
We  answer  in  the  negative.  Why  ?  On  account 
of  Wellington?  on  account  of  Blucher  ?  No  ;  on 
account  of  God. 

Bonaparte,  victor  at  Waterloo,  did  not  har- 
monize with  the  law  of  the  nineteenth  century. 
Another  series  of  facts  was  preparing,  in  which 
Napoleon  no  longer  had  a  place  ;  the  ill-will  of 
events  had  been  displayed  long  previously. 

It  was  time  for  this  vast  man  to  fall. 

His  excessive  weight  in  human  destiny  dis- 
turbed the  balance.  This  individual  alone  was 
of  more  account  than  the  universal  group  ;  such 
plethoras  of  human  vitality  concentrated  in  a 
single  head — the  world  mounting  to  one  man's 
brain — would  be  mortal  to  civilization  if  they 
endured.  The  moment  had  arrived  for  the  incor- 
ruptible supreme  equity  to  reflect,  and  it  is  prob- 
able that  the  principles  and  elements  on  which 
the  regular  gravitations  of  the  moral  order  as  of 
the  material  order  depend,  complained.  Stream- 
ing blood,  overcrowded  grave-yards,  mothers  in 
tears,  are  formidable  pleaders.  When  the  earth 
is  suffering  from  an  excessive  burden,  there  are 
mysterious  groans  from  the  shadow,  which  the 
abvss  hears. 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


100 


Napoleon  had  been  denounced  in  infinitude, 
and  his  fall  was  decided. 

He  annoyed  God. 

Waterloo  is  not  a  battle,  but  a  transformation 
of  the  universe. 

The  Plateau  of  Mont  St.  Jean. 

The  battery  was  unmasked  simultaneously  with 
the  ravine.  Sixty  guns  and  thirteen  squares 
thundered  at  the  cuirassiers  at  point-blank  range. 
The  intrepid  General  Delord  gave  a  military 
salute  to  the  English  battery. 

The  whole  of  the  English  field  artillery  had 
entered  the  squares  at  a  gallop ;  the  cuirassiers 
had  not  even  a  moment  for  reflection.  The  disas- 
ter of  the  hollow  way  had  decimated  but  not  dis- 
couraged them,  the}'  were  of  that  nature  of 
men  whose  hearts  grow  large  when  their  number 
is  diminished. 

Wathier's  column  alone  suffered  in  the  disaster ; 
but  Delord's  column,  which  he  had  ordered  to 
wheel  to  the  left,  as  if  he  suspected  the  trap, 
arrived  entire. 

The  cuirassiers  rushed  at  the  English  squares 
at  full  gallop,  with  hanging  bridles,  sabres  in 
their  mouths,  and  pistols  in  their  hands. 

There  are  moments  in  a  battle  when  the  soul 
hardens  a  man,  so  that  it  changes  the  soldier 
into  a  statue,  and  all  flesh  becomes  granite.  The 
English  battalions,  though  fiercely  assailed,  did 
not  move. 

Then  th_re  was  a  frightful  scene. 

All  the  faces  of  the  English  squares  were  at- 
tacked simultaneously,  and  a  frenzied  whirl  sur- 
rounded them.  But  the  cold  infantry  remained 
impassive  ;  the  front  rank,  kneeling,  received  the 
cuirassiers  on  their  bayonets,  while  the  second  fired 
at  them  ;  behind  the  second  rank  the  artillerymen 
loaded  their  guns,  the  front  of  the  square  opened 
to  let  an  eruption  of  canister  pass,  and  then 
closed  again.  The  cuirassiers  responded  by  at- 
tempts to  crush  their  foe  ;  their  great  horses 
reared,  leaped  over  the  bayonets,  and  landed  in 
the  centre  of  the  four  living  walls.  The  cannon 
balls  made  gaps  in  the  cuirassiers,  and  the  cuiras- 
siers made  breaches  in  the  squares.  Files  of  men 
disappeared,  trampled  down  by  the  horses,  and 
bayonets  were  buried  in  the  entrails  of  these  cen- 
taurs. Hence  arose  horrible  wounds,  such  as 
were  probably  never  seen  elsewhere.  The 
squares,  where  broken  by  the  impetuous  cavalry, 
contracted  without  yielding  an  inch   of  ground  ; 


inexhaustible  in  canister,  they  produced  an  ex- 
plosion in  the  midst  of  the  assailants.  The  aspect 
of  this  combat  was  monstrous ;  these  squares 
were  no  longer  battalions,  but  craters ;  these 
cuirassiers  were  no  longer  cavalry,  but  a  tempest, 
each  square  was  a  volcano  attacked  by  a  storm  ; 
the  lava  combated  the  lightning. 

The  extreme  right  square,  the  most  exposed  of 
all,  as  it  was  in  the  air,  was  nearly  annihilated  in 
the  first  attack.  It  was  formed  of  the  75th  High- 
landers ;  the  piper  in  the  centre,  while  his  com- 
rades were  being  exterminated  around  him,  was 
seated  on  a  drum,  with  his  bagpipe  under  his 
arm,  and  playing  mountain  airs.  These  Scotch- 
men died,  thinking  of  Ben  Lothian,  as  the 
Greeks  did,  remembering  Argos.  A  cuirassier's 
sabre,  by  cutting  through  the  pipe  and  the  arm 
that  held  it,  had  stopped  the  tune  by  killing  the 
player. 

The  cuirassiers,  relatively  few  in  number,  and 
reduced  by  the  catastrophe  of  the  ravine,  had 
against  them  nearly  the  whole  English  army ; 
but  the}-  multiplied  themselves,  and  each  man 
was  worth  ten.  Some  Hanoverian  battalions, 
however,  gave  way ;  Wellington  saw  it,  and 
thought  of  his  cavalry.  Had  Napoleon  at  this 
minute  thought  of  his  infantry,  the  battle  would 
have  been  won,  and  this  forgetfulness  was  his 
great  and  fatal  fault. 

All  at  once  the  assailers  found  themselves  as- 
sailed ;  the  English  cavalry  were  on  their  backs, 
before  them  the  squares,  behind  them  Somerset 
with  the  one  thousand  four  hundred  dragoon 
guards.  Somerset  had  on  his  right  Doruberg 
with  the  German  chevau-legers,  and  on  his  left 
Trip  with  the  Belgian  carbineers ;  the  cuirassiers, 
attacked  on  the  flank  and  in  front,  before  and 
behind,  by  infantry  and  cavalry,  were  compelled 
to  make  a  front  on  all  sides.  But  what  did  they 
care?  They  were  a  whirlwind,  their  bravery 
became  indescribable. 

In  addition  they  had  behind  them  the  still 
thundering  battery,  and  it  was  only  in  such  a 
way  that  these  men  could  be  wounded  in  the 
back.  One  of  these  cuirasses,  with  a  hole 
through  the  left  scapula,  is  in  the  Waterloo 
Museum. 

For  such  Frenchmen,  nothing  less  than  such 
Englishmen  was  required. 

It  was  no  longer  a  melee,  it  was  a  headlong 
fur}-,  a  hurricane  of  flashing  swords.     In  an  in- 


110 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


stant  the  one  thousand  four  hundred  dragoons 
were  only  eight  hundred,  and  Fuller,  their  lieu- 
tenant-colonel, was  dead.  Ney  dashed  up  with 
Lefebvre  Desnouette's  lancers  and  chasseurs : 
the  plateau  of  Mont  St.  Jean  was  taken  and  re- 
taken, and  taken  again.  The  cuirassiers  left  the 
cavalry  to  attack  the  infantry,  or,  to  speak  more 
correctly,  all  these  men  collared  each  other  and 
did  not  loose  their  hold. 

The  squares  still  held  out  after  twelve  assaults. 
Ney  had  four  horses  killed  under  him,  and  one- 
half  of  the  cuirassiers  remained  on  the  plateau. 
This  struggle  lasted  two  hours. 

The  English  army  was  profoundly  shaken  ; 
and  there  was  no  doubt  that,  had  not  the  cuiras- 
siers been  weakened  in  their  attack  by  the  disaster 
of  the  hollow  way,  they  would  have  broken 
through  the  centre  and  decided  the  victory.  This 
extraordinary  cavalry  petrified  Clinton,  who  had 
seen  Talavera  and  Badajoz.  Wellington,  three 
parts  vanquished,  admired  heroically  ;  he  said  in 
a  low  voice,  "  Splendid  !" 

The  cuirassiers  annihilated  seven  squares  out 
of  thirteen,  captured  or  spiked  sixty  guns,  and 
took  six  English  regimental  flags,  which  three 
cuirassiers  and  three  chasseurs  of  the  guard  car- 
ried to  the  emperor  before  the  farm  of  La  Belle 
Alliance. 

Wellington's  situation  had  grown  worse.  This 
strange  battle  resembled  a  fight  between  two 
savage  wounded  men,  who  constantly  lose  their 
blood  while  continuing  the  struggle.  Which 
would  be  the  first  to  fall  ? 

The  combat  for  the  plateau  continued. 

How  far  did  the  cuirassiers  get  ?  no  one  could 
say  ;  but  it  is  certain  that  on  the  day  after  the 
battle  a  cuirassier  and  his  horse  were  found  dead 
on  the  weighing  machine  of  Mont  St.  Jean,  ay 
the  very  spot  where  the  Nivelles,  Genappe,  La 
Hulpe,  and  Brussels  roads  intersect  each  other. 
This  horseman  had  pierced  the  English  lines. 
One  of  the  men  who  picked  up  this  corpse  still 
lives  at  Mont  St.  Jean  ;  his  name  is  Dehaze,  and 
he  was  eighteen  years  of  age  at  the  time.  Wel- 
lington felt  himself  giving  way,  and  the  crisis 
was  close  at  hand. 

The  cuirassiers  had  not  succeeded,  in  the  sense 
that  the  English  centre  had  not  been  broken. 
Even-body  held  the  plateau,  and  nobody  held  it ; 
but  in  the  end  the  greater  portion  remained  in  the 
hands  of  the  English.     Wellington  had  the  vil- 


lage and  the  plain  ;  Ney,  only  the  crest  and  the 
slope.  Both  sides  seemed  to  have  taken  root  in 
this  mournful  soil. 

But  the  weakness  of  the  English  seemed  ir- 
remediable, for  the  hemorrhage  of  this  army  was 
horrible.  Kempt  on  the  left  wing  asked  for  rein- 
forcements. "There  are  none,"  Wellington  re- 
plied. Almost  at  the  same  moment,  by  a  strange 
coincidence  which  depicts  the  exhaustion  of  both 
armies,  Xey  asked  Napoleon  for  infantry,  and 
Napoleon  answered,  "Infantry?  where  does  he 
expect  me  to  get  them.  Does  he  think  I  can  make 
them  ?" 

Still  the  English  army  was  the  worse  off  of  the 
two  ;  the  furious  attacks  of  these  great  squadrons 
with  their  iron  cuirasses  and  steel  chests  had 
crushed  their  infantry.  A  few  men  round  the 
colors  marked  the  place  of  a  regiment,  and  some 
battalions  were  only  commanded  by  a  captain  or 
lieutenant.  Alten's  division,  ahead}'  so  maltreated 
at  La  Have  Sainte,  was  nearly  destroyed ;  the 
intrepid  Belgians  of  Van  Kluze's  brigade  lav 
amongst  the  wheat  along  the  Nivelles  road ; 
hardly  any  were  left  of  those  Dutch  Grenadiers, 
who,  in  1S11,  fought  Wellington  in  Spain,  on  the 
French  side,  and  who.  in  1815,  joined  the  Eng- 
lish and  fought  Napoleon.  The  loss  in  offi- 
cers was  considerable.  Lord  Uxbridge,  who 
had  his  leg  interred  the  next  da}-,  had  a  frac- 
tured knee.  If  on  the  side  of  the  French  in 
this  contest  of  the  cuirassiers  Delord,  1' Here- 
tier,  Colbert,  Dnop,  Travers  and  Blancard  were 
hors  de  combat,  on  the  side  of  the  English,  Alten 
was  wounded,  Barnes  was  wounded,  Delancey 
killed,  Van  Meeren  killed,  Ompteda  killed,  Well- 
ington's staff  decimated — and  England  had  the 
heaviest  scale  in  this  balance  of  blood.  The 
second  regiment  of  foot-guards  had  lost  five  lieu- 
tenant-colonels, four  captains,  and  three  ensigns  ; 
the  first  battalion  of  the  30th  had  lost  twenty-four 
officers  and  one  hundred  and  twelve  men  ;  the 
79th  Highlanders  had  twenty-four  officers 
wounded  and  eighteen  officers  and  four  hundred 
and  fifty  men  killed.  Cumberland's  Hanoverian 
Hussars,  an  entire  regiment,  having  their  colonel 
Hackeat  their  head,  who,  at  a  later  date  was  tried 
and  cashiered,  turned  bridle  during  the  fight  and 
fled  into  the  forest  of  Soignies,  spreading  the  rout 
as  far  as  Brussels.  The  wagons,  ammunition 
trains,  baggage  trains  and  ambulance  carts  full 
of  wounded,  on  seeing  the  French,  gave  ground, 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


Ill 


and,  approaching  the  forest,  rushed  into  it ;  the 
Dutch,  sabred  by  the  French  cavalry,  broke  in 
confusion.  From  Vert  Coucou  to  Groenendael,  a 
distance  of  two  leagues  on  the  Brussels  roads, 
there  was,  according  to  the  testimony  of  living 
witnesses,  a  dense  crowd  of  fugitives,  and  the 
panic  was  so  great  that  it  assailed  the  Prince  de 
Conde  at  Mechlin  and  Louis  XYIII.  at  Ghent. 
With  the  exception  of  the  weak  reserve  eche- 
lonned  behind  the  field  hospital  establishment 
at  the  farm  of  Mont  St.  Jean,  and  Vivian's  and 
Vandeleur's  brigades,  which  flanked  the  leftwing, 
Wellington  had  no  cavalry  left,  and  many  of  the 
guns  la}'  dismounted.  These  facts  are  confessed 
by  Siborne,  and  Pringle,  exaggerating  the  dan- 
ger, goes  so  far  as  to  state  the  Anglo-Dutch  army- 
was  reduced  to  thirty-four  thousand  men.  The 
Iron  Duke  remained  firm,  but  his  lips  blanched. 
The  Austrian  commissioner  Vincent,  and  the 
Spanish  commissioner  Alava,  who  were  present  at 
the  battle,  thought  the  Duke,  lost ;  at  five  o'clock 
Wellington  looked  at  his  watch,  and  could  be 
heard  muttering,   "  Blucher  or  night." 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  a  distant  line  of 
bayonets  glistened  on  the  heights  on  the  side  of 
Frischemont. 

This  was  the  climax  of  the  gigantic  drama. 

Bulow  to  the  Rescue. 

Everybody  knows  Napoleon's  awful  mistake  ; 
Grouchy  expected  ;  Blucher  coming  up  ;  death 
instead  of  life.  Destiny  has  such  turnings  as 
this ;  men  expect  the  throne  of  the  world,  and 
perceive  St.  Helena. 

If  the  little  shepherd  who  served  as  guide  to 
Bulow,  Blucher's  lieutenant,  had  advised  him  to 
debouche  from  the  forest  above  Frischemont,  in- 
stead of  below  Plancenoit,  the  form  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  would  have  been  different;  for 
Napoleon  would  have  won  the  battle  of  Waterloo. 
By  any  other  road  than  that  below  Plancenoit  the 
Prussian  army  would  have  come  upon  a  ravine 
impassable  by  artillery,  and  Bulow  would  not 
have  arrived. 

Now  one  hour's  delay — the  Prussian  general 
Muffling  declares  it — and  Blucher  would  not  have 
found  Wellington  erect — "the  battle  was  lost." 

It  was  high  time,  as  we  see,  for  Bulow  to  arrive, 
and  as  it  was  he  had  been  greatly  delayed.  He 
had  bivouacked  at  Dion-le-Mont,  and  started  at 
daybreak,  but  the  roads  were  impracticable,  and 
his  division  stuck  in    the  mud.     The  ruts  came 


up  to  the  axle-tree  of  the  guns  ;  moreover,  he 
was  compelled  to  cross  the  Dyle  by  the  narrow 
bridge  of  Wavre  ;  the  street  leading  to  the  bridge 
had  been  burned  by  the  French,  and  the  artillery 
train  and  limbers,  which  could  not  pass  between 
the  two  rows  of  blazing  houses,  were  compelled 
to  wait  until  the  fire  was  extinguished.  By  mid- 
day Bulow' s  vanguard  had  scarce  reached  Chap- 
elle  Saint  Lambert. 

Had  the  action  begun  two  hours  sooner,  it 
would  have  been  over  at  four  o'clock,  and 
Blucher  would  have  fallen  upon  the  battle  gained 
by  Napoleon. 

At  mid-day  the  emperor  had  been  the  first  to 
notice,  through  his  telescope,  on  the  extreme 
horizon,  something  which  fixed  his  attention,  and 
he  said,  "  I  see  over  there  a  cloud  which  appears 
to  me  to  be  troops. ' '  Then  he  asked  the  Duke 
of  Dalmatia,  ' '  Soult,  what  do  you  see  in  the 
direction  of  Chapelle  Saint  Lambert  ? "  The  mar- 
shal, after  looking  through  his  telescope,  replied, 
"  Four  or  five  thousand  men,  sire."  It  was  evi- 
dently Grouchy,  still  they  remained  motionless  in 
the  mist.  All  the  staff  examined  the  cloud 
pointed  out  by  the  emperor,  and  some  said, 
"They  are  columns  halting,"  but  the  majority 
were  of  opinion  that  they  were  trees.  The  truth 
is  that  the  cloud  did  not  move,  and  the  emperor 
detached  Domon's  division  of  light  cavalry  to 
reconnoitre  in  the  direction  of  this  dark  point. 

Bulow,  in  fact,  had  not  stirred,  for  his  vanguard 
was  very  weak  and  could  effect  nothing.  He  was 
obliged  to  wait  for  the  main  body  of  the  army, 
and  had  orders  to  concentrate  his  troops  before 
forming  line;  but  at  five  o'clock,  Blucher,  seeing 
Wellington's  clanger,  ordered  Bulow  to  attack, 
and  employed  the  remarkable  phrase,  ' '  We  must 
let  the  English  army  breathe." 

A  short  time  after,  Losthin's,  Hiller's,  Hacke's 
and  Ryssel's  brigades  deployed  in  front  of  Lobau's 
corps,  the  cavalry  of  Prince  William  of  Prussia 
debouched  from  the  Bois  de  Paris,  Plancenoit 
was  in  flames,  and  the  Prussian  cannon-balls 
began  pouring  even  upon  the  ranks  of  the  guard 
held  in  reserve  behind  Napoleon. 

The   Guard. 

The  rest  is  known — the  irruption  of  a  third 
army ;  the  battle  dislocated ;  eighty-six  cannon 
thundering  simultaneously ;  Pirch  I.  coming  up 
with  Bulow;  Ziethen's  cavalry  led  by  Blucher  in 
person ;    the   French    driven    back ;     Marcognet 


112 


THE  WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


swept  from  the  plateau  of  Ohain ;  Durette  dis- 
lodged from  Papelotte ;  Donzelot  and  Ouiot  fall- 
ing back  ;  Lobau  attacked  on  the  flank  ;  a  new 
battle  rushing  at  nightfall  on  the  weakened  French 
regiments  ;  the  whole  English  line  resuming  the 
offensive  and  pushed  forward ;  the  gigantic  gap 
made  in  the  French  army  by  the  combined 
English  and  Prussian  batteries ;  the  extermina- 
tion, the  disaster  in  front,  the  disaster  on  the 
flank,  and  the  guard  forming  line  amid  this 
fearful  convulsion. 

As  they  felt  they  were  going  to  death,  they 
shouted,  "  Long  live  the  emperor  !  "  History  has 
nothing  more  striking  than  this  death-rattle 
breaking  out  into  acclamations. 

The  sky  had  been  covered  the  whole  day,  but 
at  this  very  moment,  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
the  clouds  parted  in  the  horizon,  and  the  sinister 
red  glow  of  the  setting  sun  was  visible  through 
the  elms  on  the  Xivelles  road.  It  had  been  seen 
to  rise  at  Austerlitz. 

Each  battalion  of  the  guard,  for  this  denoue- 
me?it,  was  commanded  by  a  general.  Friant, 
Michel,  Roguer,  Harlot,  Mallet,  and  Poret  de 
Morvau  were  there.  When  the  tall  bear-skins  of 
the  grenadiers  of  the  guard  with  the  large  eagle 
device  appeared,  symmetrical  in  line  and  calm,  in 
the  twilight  of  this  fight,  the  enemy  felt  a  respect 
for  France  ;  they  fancied  they  saw  twenty  victories 
entering  the  battle-field  with  outstretched  wings, 
and  the  men  who  were  victors,  esteeming  them- 
selves vanquished,  fell  back ;  but  Wellington 
shouted,  "Up,  guards,  and  take  steady  aim." 
The  red  regiment  of  English  guards,  which  had 
been  lying  down  behind  the  hedges,  rose  ;  a  storm 
of  canister  rent  the  tricolor  flag  waving  above  the 
heads  of  the  French  ;  all  rushed  forward,  and  the 
supreme  carnage  commenced.  The  imperial 
guard  felt  in  the  darkness  the  arm}-  giving  way 
round  them,  and  the  vast  staggering  of  the  rout; 
they  heard  the  cry  of  "Sauve  qui  peut !"  substi- 
tuted for  the  "Vive  l'empereur !  "  and  with  flight 
behind  them  they  continued  to  advance,  hundreds 
falling  at  every  step  they  took.  Xone  hesitated 
or  evinced  timidity  ;  the  privates  were  as  heroic  as 
the  generals,  and  not  one  attempted  to  escape 
suicide. 

Xey,  wild  and  grand  in  the  consciousness  of  ac- 
cepted death,  offered  himself  to  every  blow  in  this 
combat.  He  had  his  fifth  horse  killed  under  him 
here.     Bathed  in  perspiration,  with  a  flame  in  his 


eye  and  foam  on  his  lips,  his  uniform  unbuttoned, 
one  of  his  epaulettes  half  cut  through  by  the 
sabre-cut  of  a  horse-guard,  and  his  decoration  of 
the  great  eagle  dinted  by  a  bullet  —  bleeding, 
muddy,  magnificent,  and  holding  a  broken  sword 
in  his  hand,  he  shouted,  "Come  and  see  how  a 
marshal  of  France  dies  on  the  battlefield  I ' '  But 
it  was  in  vain — he  did  not  die.  He  was  haggard 
and  indignant,  and  hurled  at  Drouet  d'Erlon  the 
question,  "Are  you  not  going  to  get  yourself 
killed?"  He  yelled  amid  the  roar  of  all  this 
artillery,  crushing  a  handful  of  men,  "  Oh  !  there 
is  nothing  for  me  !  I  should  like  all  these  English 
cannon-balls  to  enter  my  chest ! ' '  You  were  re- 
served for  French  bullets,  unfortunate  man. 

The  Catastrophe. 

The  rout  in  the  rear  of  the  guard  was  mournful. 
The  army  suddenly  gave  way  on  all  sides  simul- 
taneously at  Hougoumont,  La  Have  Sainte,  Pape- 
lotte, and  Plancenoit.  The  cry  of  "treachery" 
was  followed  by  that  of  "  Sauve  qui  peut  I  "  An 
army  which  disbands  is  like  a  thaw  —  all  gives 
way,  cracks,  rolls,  floats,  falls,  comes  into  collision, 
and  dashes  forward.  Ney  borrows  a  horse,  leaps  on 
it,  and  without  hat,  stock,  or  sword  dashes  across 
the  Brussels  road,  stopping  at  once  English  and 
French.  He  tries  to  hold  back  the  arm}',  he  re- 
calls it,  he  insults  it,  he  clings  wildly  to  the  rout 
to  hold  it  back.  The  soldiers  fly  from  him, 
shouting,  "Long  live  Marshal  Xey!"  Two 
regiments  of  Durutte's  move  backward  and  for- 
ward in  terror,  and,  as  it  were,  tossed  between 
the  sabres  of  the  Hussars  and  musketry  fire  of 
Kempt's,  Best's,  and  Pack's  brigades.  A  rout  is 
the  highest  of  all  confusions,  for  friends  kill  each 
other  in  order  to  escape,  and  squadrons  and  bat- 
talions dash  against  and  destroy  each  other. 
Lobau  at  one  extremity  and  Reille  at  the  other 
are  carried  away  by  the  torrent.  In  vain  does 
Xapoleon  build  a  wall  of  what  is  left  of  the 
guard  ;  in  vain  does  he  expend  the  squadrons  of 
his  body-guard  in  a  final  effort.  Ouiot  retires 
before  Vivian,  Kellerman  before  Vandeleur, 
Lobau  before  Bulow,  Moraud  before  Pirch,  and 
Domon  and  Subervic  before  Prince  William  of 
Prussia.  Guyot,  who  led  the  emperor's  squadron, 
to  the  charge,  falls  beneath  the  horses  of  English 
dragoons.  Xapoleon  gallops  along  the  line  of 
fugitives,  harangues,  urges,  threatens,  and  im- 
plores them  :  all  the  mouths  that  shouted  ' '  Long 
live  the  emperor"  in  the  morning,  remained  wide 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


113 


open  ;  the}-  hardly  knew  him.     The  Prussian  cav-  each  other  and  trample  over  the  dead  and  over 

airy,  who  had  come  up  fresh,  dash  forward,  cut  the  living.     A  multitude,  wild  with  terror,  fill  the 

down,  kill,  and  exterminate.    The  artillery  horses  roads,  the  paths,  the  bridges,  the  plains,  the  hills, 

dashed  forward  with  the  guns ;  the  train  soldiers  the  valleys,  and  the  woods,  which  are  thronged  by 


ONI?  OF    BLUCHER'S    FORAGERS. 

unharness  the  horses  from  the  caissons  and  escape  this  flight  of  forty  thousand  men.     Cries,  desper- 

on  them ;    wagons   overthrown,   and   with    their  ation  ;    knapsacks    and    muskets    cast    into   the 

four  wheels   in    the    air,  block  up  the  road   and  wheat ;  passages  cut  with  the  edge  of  the  sabres ; 

supply  opportunities  for  massacre.      Men  crush  no  comrades,  no  officers,  no  generals  recognized— 
8 


Ill 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


an  indescribable  terror.  Zeithen  sabreing  France 
at  his  ease.  The  lions  become  kids.  Such  was 
this  fright. 

At  Genappe  an  effort  was  made  to  turn  and 
rally  ;  L,obau  collected  three  hundred  men  ;  the 
entrance  of  the  village  was  barricaded,  but  at  the 
first  round  of  Prussian  canister  all  began  flying 
again,  and  Lobau  was  made  prisoner.  This  vol- 
ley may  still  be  seen,  buried  in  the  gable  of  an  old 


the  doorway  of  an  inn  in  Genappe,  surrendered 
his  sword  to  an  hussar  of  death,  who  took  the 
sword  and  killed  the  prisoner.  The  victory  was 
completed  by  the  assassination  of  the  vanquished. 
Let  us  punish,  as  we  are  writing  history, — old 
Blucher  dishonored  himself.  This  ferocity  set 
the  seal  on  the  disaster  ;  the  desperate  rout  passed 
through  Genappe,  passed  through  Quatre  Bras, 
passed     through     Sombreffe,     passed     through 


THE    NIGHT   AFTER    WATERLOO. 


brick  house  on  the  right  of  the  road,  before  you 
reach  Genappe.  The  Prussians  dashed  into  Ge- 
nappe, doubtless  furious  at  beingsuch  small  victors, 
and  the  pursuit  was  monstrous,  for  Blucher  com- 
manded extermination.  Roguet  had  given  the 
mournful  example  of  threatening  with  death  any 
French  grenadier  who  brought  in  a  Prussian  pris- 
oner, and  Blucher  surpassed  Roguet.  Duchesne, 
general  of  the  young  guard,  who  was  pursued  into 


Frasnes,  passed  through  Thuin,  passed  through 
Charleroi,  and  only  stopped  at  the  frontier.  Alas  ! 
and  who  was  it  flying  in  this  way  ?  The  grand 
army. 

Did  this  vertigo,  this  terror,  this  overthrow  of 
the  greatest  bravery  that  ever  astonished  history, 
take  place  without  a  cause  ?  No.  The  shadow 
of  a  mighty  right  hand  is  cast  over  Waterloo  ; 
it  is  the  day  of  destiny,  and  the  force  which  is 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


115 


above  man  produced  that  da}1.  Hence  the  terror, 
hence  all  those  great  souls  laying  down  their 
swords.  Those  who  had  conquered  Europe  fell 
crushed,  having  nothing  more  to  say  or  do,  and 
feeling  a  terrible  presence  in  the  shadow.  Hoc 
erat  in  fatis.  On  that  day  the  perspective  of  the 
human  race  was  changed,  and  Waterloo  is  the 
hinge  of  the  nineteenth  century.  The  disappear- 
ance of  the  Great  Man  was  necessary  for  the  ad- 
vent of  the  Great  Age,  and  He  who  cannot  be 
answered  undertook  the  task.  The  panic  of  the 
heroes  admits  of  explanation ;  in  the  battle  of 
Waterloo  there  is  more  than  a  storm — there  is  a 
meteor. 

At  nightfall,  Bernard  and  Bertrand  seized  by 
the  skirt  of  his  coat,  in  a  field  near  Genappe,  a 
haggard,  thoughtful,  gloomy  man,  who,  carried 
so  far  by  the  current  of  the  rout,  had  just  dis- 
mounted, passed  the  bridle  over  his  arm,  and  was 
now,  with  wandering  eye,  returning  alone  to 
Waterloo.  It  was  Napoleon,  the  immense  som- 
nambulist of  the  shattered  dream  still  striving  to 
advance. 


SOME  OF    QUEEN    ELIZABETH'S    PECULIARI- 
TIES. 

THE  great  queen  passionately  admired  hand- 
some persons,  and  he  was  already  far  ad- 
vanced in  her  favor  who  approached  her 
with  beauty  and  grace.  She  had  so  unconquer- 
able an  aversion  for  ugly  and  ill-made  men, 
who  had  been  treated  unfortunately  by  nature, 
that  she  could  not  endure  their  presence. 

When  she  issued  from  her  palace,  her  guards 
were  careful  to  disperse  from  before  her  eyes 
hideous  and  deformed  people,  the  lame,  the  hunch- 
backed, etc. ;  in  a  word,  all  those  whose  appear- 
ance might  shock  her  fastidious  sensations. 

There  is  this,  singular  and  admirable  in  the 
conduct  of  Elizabeth,  that  she  made  her  pleasure 
subservient  to  her  politics,  and  she  maintained  her 
affairs  by  what  in  general  occasioned  the  ruin  of 
princes.  So  secret  were  her  amours  that  even  to 
the  present  day  their  mysteries  cannot  be  pene- 
trated ;  but  the  utility  she  drew  from  them  is 
public,  and  always  operated  for  the  good  of  her 
people.  Her  lovers  were  her  ministers,  and  her 
ministers  were  her  lovers.  Dove  commanded,  love 
was  obeyed  ;  and  the  reign  of  this  princess  was 
happy,  because  it  was  a  reign  of  Love,  in  which 
its  chains  and  its  slaver}-  are  linked  ! 


The  origin  of  Raleigh's  advancement  in  the 
queen's  graces,  was  by  an  act  of  gallantry.  Ra- 
leigh spoiled  a  new  plush  cloak,  while  the  queen, 
stepping  cautiously  on  it,  shot  forth  a  smile,  in 
which  he  read  promotion.  Captain  Raleigh  soon 
became  Sir  Walter,  and  rapidly  advanced  in  the 
queen's  favor. 

Hume  has  furnished  us  with  ample  proofs  of 
the  passion  which  her  courtiers  feigned  for  her,  and 
which,  with  others,  confirm  the  opinion  of  Vig- 
neul  Marville,  who  did  not  know  probably  the 
reason  why  her  amours  were  never  discovered ; 
which,  indeed,  never  went  further  at  the  highest 
than  boisterous  or  extreme  gallantry.  Hume  has 
preserved  in  his  notes  a  letter  written  by  Raleigh. 
It  is  a  perfect  amorous  composition.  After  having 
exerted  his  poetic  talents  to  exalt  her  charms  and  his 
affection,  he  concludes  by  comparing  her  majes- 
ty, who  was  then  sixty,  to  Venus  and  Diana.  Sir 
Walter  was  not  her  only  courtier  who  wrote  in  this 
style.  Even  in  her  old  age  she  affected  a  strange 
fondness  for  music  and  dancing,  and  a  kind  of 
childish  drollery,  by  which,  however,  her  court 
seemed  a  court  of  love,  and  she  the  sovereign. 
A  curious  anecdote  in  a  letter  of  the  times  has 
reached  us.  Secretary  Cecil,  the  youngest  son  of 
Lord  Burleigh,  seems  to  have  perfectly  entered 
into  her  character.  Eady  Derby  wore  about  her 
neck  and  in  her  bosom  a  portrait ;  the  queen 
espying  it,  inquired  about  it,  but  her  ladyship  was 
anxious  to  conceal  it.  The  queen  insisted  on  having 
it,  and  discovering  it  to  be  the  portrait  of  young 
Cecil,  she  snatched  it  away,  and  tying  it  upon  her 
shoe,  walked  along  with  it ;  afterwards  she  pinned 
it  on  her  elbow,  and  wore  it  some  time  there.  Secre- 
tary Cecil  hearing  of  this  composed  some  verses 
and  got  them  set  to  music  ;  this  music  the  queen 
insisted  on  hearing.  In  his  verses  Cecil  sang  that 
he  repined  not,  though  her  majesty  was  pleased  to 
grace  others;  he  contented  himself  with  the  favor 
she  had  given  him,  by  wearing  his  portrait  on  her 
feet  and  her  elbow  !  The  writer  of  the  letter  adds, 
' '  All  these  things  are  very  secret.  In  this  man- 
ner she  contrived  to  lay  the  fastest  hold  on  her 
able  servants,  and  her  servants  on  her. ' ' 

She  encouraged  ever}-  person  of  eminence  ;  she 
even  went  so  far  on  the  anniversary  of  her  coro- 
nation, as  publicly  to  take  a  ring  from  her  finger, 
and  put  it  on  the  Duke  of  Alencon's  hand.  She 
also  ranked  among  her  suitors,  Henry  the  Third 
of  France,  and  Henry  the  Great. 


11(3 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


She  never  forgave  Buzenval  for  ridiculing  her 
bad  pronunciation  of  the  French  language  :  and 
when  Henry  IV.  sent  him  over  on  an  embass}-, 
she  would  not  receive  him.     So  nice  was  the  irri- 


"  who  displayed  so  many  heroic  accomplishments, 
had  this  foible,  of  wishing  to  be  thought  beauti- 
ful by  all  the  world.  I  heard  from  my  father, 
that  having  been  sent  to  her,  at  every  audience 

mwmmmMtjmmmmmmM  he  had  with  her 

pulled  off  her 
gloves  more 
than  a  hundred 
times  to  display 
her  hands, 
which  indeed 
were  very  beau- 
tiful and  very 
white." 

"Francis, 
Duke  of  Anjou, 
being  desirous 
of  marrying  a 
crowned  head, 
caused  propo- 
sals of  marriage 
to  be  made  to 
Elizabeth, 
Queen  of  Eng- 
land.  Letters 
passed  betwixt 
them,  and  their 
portraits  were 
exchanged.  At 
length  her  ma- 
jesty informed 
him,  that  she 
would  never 
contract  a  mar- 
riage with  any 
one  who  sought 
her,  if  she  did 
not  first  see  his. 
person.  If  he 
would  not  come, 
nothing  more 
should  be  said 
on  the  subject. 
This  prince, 
over-pressed  by 
his     y  o  u  h  g 

table  pride  of  this  great  queen,  that  she  made  her     friends,  (who  were  as  little  able  of  judging  as  him- 

private  injuries  matters  of  state.  self),  paid  no  attention  to  the  counsels  of  men  of 

"The  queen,"  writes  Du    Maurier,  in  the  Me-      maturer  judgment.     He  passed  over  to  England 

moires   pour    servir    a     l Histoirc    dc    Hollandc,      without  a  splendid  train.     The  lady  contemplated 


OUEEN    ELIZABETH    CHASTISING   THE   INSOLENT   COURTIER. 


THE   BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


117 


his  person  ;  she  found  him  ugly,  disfigured  by  deep 
scars  of  the  small-pox,  and  that  he  had  also  an 
ill-shaped  nose,  with  swellings  in  the  neck  !  All 
these  were  so  many  reasons  with  her,  that  he 
could  never  be  admitted  into  her  good  graces. ' ' 

She  could  be  exceedingly  sarcastic  when  the 
humor  suited  her.  A  handsome  young  courtier, 
encouraged  by  her  natural  fondness  for  handsome 
people,  became,  one  da}-,  somewhat  obtrusive  in  his 
expressions  of  admiration,  whereupon  the  queen 
gave  him  a  ringing  box  on  the  cheek,  admonish- 
ing him  at  the  same  time,  in  the  vigorous  Eng- 
lish which  she  knew  so  well  how  to  use,  to  keep 
his  mouth  shut. 

On  another  occasion,  after  her  coronation,  a 
knight  of  the  realm,  who  had  insolently  behaved 
to  her  when  she  was  only  L,ady  Elizabeth,  fell 
upon  his  knees  to  her,  and  besought  her  pardon, 
expecting  to  be  sent  to  the  Tower ;  she  replied 
mildly,  ' '  Do  you  not  know  that  we  are  descended 
of  the  lion,  whose  nature  is  not  to  harm  or  prey 
upon  the  mouse,  or  any  other  such  small 
vermin  ? ' ' 

The  education  of  Elizabeth  had  been  severely 
classical ;  she  thought,  and  she  wrote  in  all  the 
spirit  of  the  great  characters  of  antiquity ;  and 
her  speeches  and  her  letters  are  studded  with 
apophthegms,  and  a  terseness  of  ideas  and  lan- 
guage that  give  an  exalted  idea  of  her  mind.  In 
her  evasive  answers  to  the  Commons,  in  reply  to 
their  petition  to  her  majesty  to  marry,  she  has  em- 
ployed an  energetic  word  :  ' '  Were  I  to  tell  you 
that  I  do  not  mean  to  marry,  I  might  say  less 
than  I  intend  ;  and  were  I  tell  you  that  I  do 
mean  to  marry,  I  might  say  more  than  it  is  proper 
for  you  to  know ;  therefore  I  give  you  an  answer, 
answerless  ! ' ' 


A  RASH  ADVENTURE  AT  THE  NATURAL 
BRIDGE  OF  VIRGINIA. 
CTOME  years  ago  a  traveller  recorded  the  fol- 
vD  lowing  incident  in  connection  with  the 
famous  Natural  Bridge  in  Virginia.  It  is  inter- 
esting, and  at  the  same  time  of  some  historical 
value  : 

As  we  stood  under  this  beautiful  arch,  we  saw 
the  place  where  visitors  have  often  taken  the 
pains  to  engrave  their  names  upon  the  rock. 
Here  Washington  climbed  up  twenty-five  feet, 
and  carved  his  own  name,  where  it  still  remains. 
Some,  wishing  to  immortalize  their  names,  have 


engraved  them  deep  and  large,  while  others  have 
tried  to  climb  up  and  insert  them  high  in  this 
book  of  fame. 

A  few  years  since,  a  young  man,  being  ambi- 
tious to  place  his  name  above  all  others,  came 
very  near  losing  his  life  in  the  attempt.  After 
much  fatigue,  he  climbed  up  as  high  as  possible, 
but  found  that  the  person  who  had  before  occu- 
pied his  place  was  taller  than  himself,  and  conse- 
quently had  placed  his  name  above  his  reach,  but 
he  was  not  thus  to  be  discouraged.  He  opened  a 
large  jack-knife,  and,  in  the  soft  limestone,  began 
to  cut  places  for  his  hands  and  feet.  With  much 
patience  and  difficulty,  he  worked  his  way  up- 
wards, and  succeeded  in  carving  his  name  higher 
than  the  most  ambitious  had  done  before  him. 
He  could  now  triumph,  but  his  triumph  was 
short,  for  he  was  placed  in  such  a  situation  that 
it  was  impossible  to  descend  unless  he  fell  upon 
the  ragged  rocks  beneath  him. 

There  was  no  house  near,  from  which  his  com- 
panions could  get  assistance.  He  could  not  long 
remain  in  that  condition,  and,  what  was  worse, 
his  friends  were  too  much  frightened  to  do  any- 
thing for  his  relief.  They  looked  upon  him  as 
already  dead,  expecting  every  moment  to  see  him 
dashed  to  pieces.  Not  so  with  himself.  He  de- 
termined to  ascend.  Accordingly,  he  plied  him- 
self with  his  knife,  cutting  places  for  his  hands 
and  feet,  and  gradually  ascended,  with  incredible 
labor.  He  exerted  every  muscle.  His  life  was 
at  stake,  and  all  the  terrors  of  death  rose  before 
him.  He  dared  not  to  look  downwards,  lest  his 
head  should  become  dizzy  ;  and  perhaps  on  this 
circumstance  his  life  depended.  His  companions 
stood  on  the  top  of  the  rock  exhorting  and  en- 
couraging him.  His  strength  was  almost  ex- 
hausted ;  but  a  bare  possibility  of  saving  his  life 
still  remained  ;  and  hope,  the  last  friend  of  the 
distressed,  had  not  forsaken  him.  His  course 
upwards  was  rather  oblique  than  perpendicular. 
His  most  critical  moment  had  now  arrived.  He 
had  ascended  considerably  more  than  two  hundred 
feet,  and  had  still  further  to  rise,  when  he  felt 
himself  fast  growing  weak.  He  thought  of  his 
friends  and  all  his  earthly  joys,  and  he  could  not 
leave  them.  He  thought  of  the  grave,  and  dared 
not  meet  it.  He  now  made  his  last  effort,  and 
succeeded.  He  had  cut  his  way  not  far  from  two 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  from  the  water,  in  a  course 
almost  perpendicular ;  and,   in  a  little  less  than 


US 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


two  hours,  his  anxious  companions  reached  him 
a  pole  from  the  top  and  drew  him  up.  They 
received  him  with  shouts  of  joy  :  but  he  himself 
was  completely  exhausted.  He  immediately 
fainted  aivaj"  on  reaching  the  top,  and  it  was 
some  time  before  he  recovered  ! 

It  was  interesting  to  see  the  path  up  these  awful 
rocks,  and  to  follow  in  imagination  this  bold  youth 
as  he  thus  saved  his  life.  His  name  stands  far 
above  all  the  rest,  a  monument  of  hardihood,  of 
rashness,  and  of  follv. 


JUST  BEFORE  THE  BATTLE. 

AX  old  soldier  describes  the  peculiar  feelings 
usually  experienced  just  before  going  into 
battle,  as  follows  : 

It  would  be  difficult  to  convey  to  the  mind  of 
an  ordinary  reader  anything  like  a  correct  notion 
of  the  state  of  feeling  which  takes  possession  of  a 
man  waiting  for  the  commencement  of  a  battle. 
In  the  first  place,  time  appears  to  move  on  leaden 
wings  ;  every  minute  seems  an  hour,  and  even- 
hour  a  day.  Then  there  is  a  strange  commingling 
of  levity  and  seriousness  within  him  ;  a  levity 
which  prompts  him  to  laugh,  he  knows  not  why, 
and  a  seriousness  which  urges  him  ever  and  anon 
to  lift  up  a  mental  prayer  to  the  throne  of  grace. 
On  such  occasions,  little  or  no  conversation  passes. 
The  privates  generally  lean  on  their  firelocks,  the 
officers  on  their  swords  :  and  few  words,  except 
monosyllables  in  reply  to  questions  put,  are  spoken. 
On  these  occasions,  too,  the  faces  of  the  bravest 
often  change  their  color,  and  the  limbs  of  the 
most  resolute  tremble,  not  with  fear,  but  with 
anxiety  ;  whilst  watches  are  consulted,  till  the 
individuals  who  consult  them  grow  absolutely 
weary  of  the  employment.  On  the  whole,  it  is  a 
situation  of  higher  excitement  and  darker  and 
deeper  agitation  than  any  other  in  human  life ; 
nor  can  he  be  said  to  feel  all  that  man  is  capable 
of  feeling,  who  has  not  felt  it. 


ANECDOTE  OF  PATRICK  HENRY. 
BY  WILLIAM  WIRT. 

'T^OOK  was  a  Scotchman,  a  man  of  wealth,  and 
X  )  suspected  of  being  unfriendly  to  the  Amer- 
ican cause.  During  the  distresses  of  the  American 
army,  consequent  on  the  joint  invasion  of  Coni- 
wallis  and  Phillips,  in  17S1.  a  Mr.  Venable,  an 
armv  commissary,  had  taken  two  of  Hook's  steers 


for  the  use  of  the  troops.  The  act  had  not  been 
strictly  legal ;  and  on  the  establishment  of  peace, 
Hook,  on  the  advice  of  Mr.  Cowan,  a  gentleman 
of  some  distinction  in  the  law,  thought  proper  to 
bring  an  action  of  trespass  against  Mr.  Venable, 
in  the  District  Court  of  Xew  London.  Mr. 
Henry  appeared  for  the  defendant,  and  is  said  to 
have  deported  himself  in  this  cause  to  the  infinite 
enjoyment  of  his  hearers,  the  unfortunate  Hook 
always  excepted.  After  Mr.  Henry  became  ani- 
mated in  the  cause,  says  a  correspondent,  he 
appeared  to  have  complete  control  over  the  pas- 
sions of  the  audience.  At  one  time  he  excited 
their  indignation  against  Hook — vengeance  was 
visible  in  every  countenance.  Again,  when  he 
chose  to  relax,  and  ridicule  him,  the  whole  audi- 
ence was  in  a  roar  of  laughter.  He  painted  the 
distresses  of  the  American  army,  exposed  almost 
naked  to  the  rigor  of  a  winter's  sky,  and  mark- 
ing the  frozen  ground  over  which  they  trod  with 
the  blood  of  their  unshod  feet.  ' '  Where  was  the 
man,  who  had  an  American  heart  in  his  bosom, 
who  would  not  have  thrown  open  his  fields,  his 
barn,  his  cellars,  the  doors  of  his  house,  and  the 
portals  of  his  breast,  to  have  received  with  open 
arms,  the  meanest  soldier  in  that  little  band  of 
patriots  ?  Where  is  the  man  ?  Tlicrc  he  stands 
— but  whatever  of  the  heart  of  the  American 
beats  in  his  bosom,  you,  gentlemen,  are  to  be  the 
judge."  He  carried  the  jury,  by  the  power  of 
his  imagination,  to  the  plains  around  York,  the 
surrender  of  which  had  followed  shortly  after  the 
act  complained  of.  He  depicted  the  surrender  in 
the  most  glowing  and  noble  colors.  The  audi- 
ence saw  before  their  eyes  the  humiliation  and 
dejection  of  the  British  as  they  marched  out  of 
their  trenches. 

They  saw  the  triumph  which  lighted  up  even- 
patriot's  face,  and  heard  the  shouts  of  victory, 
and  the  cry  of  "  Washington  and  Liberty."  as  it 
rung  and  echoed  through  the  American  ranks, 
and  was  reverberated  from  the  hills  and  shores  of 
the  neighboring  river — "But,  hark!  What 
notes  of  discord  are  these  which  disturb  the  gen- 
eral joy,  and  silence  the  acclamations  of  victory? 
They  are  the  notes  of  John  Hook,  hoarsely 
bawling  through  the  American  camp,  "Beef! 
beef!' ' 

The  whole  audience  was  convulsed.  A  parti- 
cular incident  will  give  a  better  idea  of  the  effect 
than  any  general  description.     The  clerk  of  the 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


119 


court,  unable  to  command  himself,  and  unwilling 
to  commit  any  breach  of  decorum  in  his  place, 
rushed  out  of  the  court-house  and  threw  himself 
upon  the  grass,  in  the  most  violent  paroxysms  of 
laughter,  where  he  was  rolling  when  Hook,  with 
very  ditferent  feelings,  came  out  for  relief  in  the 
yard  also.  "Jemmy  Steptoe,"  said  he  to  the 
clerk,  "what  the  devil  ails  ye,  mon?"  Mr.  Step- 
toe  could  only  say  that  he  could  not  help  it. 
"Never  mind  ye,"  said  Hook,  "wait  till  Billy 
Cowan  gets  up  ;  he'll  show  him  the  la'  !"  Mr. 
Cowan,  however,  was  so  completely  overwhelmed 
by  the  torrent  which  bore  upon  his  client,  that, 
when  he  rose  to  reply  to  Mr.  Henry,  he  was 
scarcely  able  to  make  an  intelligible  or  audible 
remark.  The  cause  was  decided  almost  by  accla- 
mation. The  jury  retired  for  form's  sake,  and 
instantly  returned  with  a  verdict  for  the  defend- 
ant. Nor  did  the  effect  of  Mr.  Henry's  speech 
stop  here.  The  people  were  so  highly  excited 
by  the  tory  audacity  of  such  a  suit,  that  Hook 
began  to  hear  around  him  a  cry  more  terrible 
than  that  of  beef- — it  was  the  cry  of  tar  and 
feathers — from  the  application  of  which,  it  is  said, 
nothing  saved  him  but  a  precipitate  flight' and  the 
speed  of  his  horse. 


SINGULAR  ADVENTURE  OF  A  BRITISH 
SOLDIER. 

IN  the  year  1779,  when  the  war  with  America 
wras  conducted  with  great  spirit,  a  division 
of  the  British  army  was  encamped  on  the 
banks  of  a  river,  and  in  a  position  so  favored 
by  nature  that  it  was  difficult  for  any  military 
art  to  surprise  it.  War  in  America  was  rather 
a  species  of  hunting  than  a  regular  campaign. 
"If  you  fight  with  art,"  said  Washington  to 
the  soldiers,  ' '  you  are  sure  to  be  defeated. 
Acquire  discipline  enough  for  concert,  and  the 
uniformity  of  combined  attack,  and  our  country 
will  prove  the  best  of  the  engineers. ' '  So  true 
was  this  maxim  of  the  American  general  that  the 
English  soldiers  had  to  contend  with  little  else. 
The  Americans  had  incorporated  the  Indians  into 
their  ranks,  and  had  made  them  useful  in  a  spe- 
cies of  war  to  which  their  habits  of  life  had 
peculiarly  fitted  them.  They  sallied  out  of  their 
impenetrable  forests  and  jungles,  and,  with  their 
arrows  and  tomahawks,  committed  daily  waste 
upon  the  British  army,  surprising  their  sentinels, 
cutting  off  their  stragglers,   aud  even  when  the 


alarm  was  given,  and  pursuit  commenced,  they 
fled  with  a  swiftness  that  the  speed  of  cavalry 
could  not  overtake,  into  rocks  and  fastnesses 
whither  it  was  dangerous  to  follow  them.  In 
order  to  limit,  as  far  as  possible,  this  species  of 
war,  in  which  there  was  so  much  loss  and  so  little 
honor,  it  was  the  custom  with  even-  regiment  to 
extend  its  outposts  to  a  great  distance  beyond  the 
encampments  ;  to  station  sentinels  in  the  woods  ; 
and  keep  a  constant  guard  around  the  main  body. 
A  regiment  of  foot  was,  at  this  time,  stationed 
upon  the  confines  of  the  boundless  Savannah. 
Its  particular  office  was  to  guard  every  avenue  of 
approach  to  the  main  body  ;  the  sentinels  whose 
post  penetrated  into  the  woods  were  supplied  by 
the  ranks,  and  the  service  of  this  regiment  was 
thus  more  hazardous  than  that  of  any  other.  Its 
loss  was  likewise  greater.  The  sentinels  were 
perpetually  surprised  on  their  posts  b3'  the  Indi- 
ans, and,  what  was  most  astonishing,  they  were 
borne  off  their  stations  without  communicating 
any  alarm,  or  being  heard  of  after.  Not  a  trace 
was  left  of  the  manner  in  which  they  had  been 
conveyed  away,  except  that,  upon  one  or  two 
occasions,  a  few  drops  of  blood  had  appeared 
upon  the  leaves  which  covered  the  ground. 
Many  imputed  this  unaccountable  disappearance 
to  treachery,  and  suggested,  as  an  unanswerable 
argument,  that  the  men  thus  surprised  might,  at 
least,  have  fired  their  muskets  and  communicated 
the  alarm  to  the  contiguous  posts.  Others,  how- 
ever, who  could  not  be  brought  to  consider  it  as 
treachery,  were  content  to  receive  it  as  a  mystery, 
which  time  would  explain. 

One  morning,  the  sentinels  having  been  sta- 
tioned as  usual  over  night,  the  guard  went  at  sun- 
rise to  relieve  a  post  which  extended  a  consider- 
able distance  into  the  wood.  The  sentinel  was 
gone  ;  the  surprise  was  great ;  but  the  circum- 
stance had  occurred  before.  They  left  another 
man,  and  departed,  wishing  him  better  luck. 
"You  need  not  be  afraid,"  said  the  man,  with 
warmth,  "I  shall  not  desert."  The  relief  com- 
pany returned  to  the  guard-house.  The  sentinels 
were  replaced  even-  four  hours,  and,  at  the 
appointed  time,  the  guard  again  marched  to  re- 
lieve the  post.  To  their  inexpressible  astonish- 
ment, the  man  was  gone  !  They  searched  around 
the  post,  but  no  traces  could  be  found  of  his  dis- 
appearance. It  was  necessary  that  the  station, 
from   a   stronger  motive   than   ever,  should  not 


120 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


remain  unoccupied  ;  they  were  compelled  to  leave 
another  man.  and  returned,  ruminating  on  this 
strange  circumstance,  to  the  guard-house.  The 
superstition  of  the  soldiers  was  awakened,  and 
terror  ran  through  the  regiment.  The  col- 
onel, being  apprised  of  the  occurrence,  signified 
his  intention  of  accompanying  the  guard  when 
they  relieved  the  sentinel  they  had  left.  At  the 
appointed  time,  they  all  marched  together ;  and 
again,  to  their  unutterable  wonder,  they  found 
the  post  vacant,  and  the  man  gone  !  Under  these 
circumstances,  the  colonel  hesitated  whether  he 
should  station  a  whole  company  here,  or  if  he 
should  again  submit  the  post  to  a  single  sentinel. 
The  cause  of  these  repeated  disappearances  of 
men,  whose  courage  and  honesty  were  never  sus- 
pected, must  be  discovered  ;  and  it  seemed  not 
likely  that  this  discovery  could  be  obtained  by 
persisting  in  the  old  method.  Three  brave  men 
were  now  lost  to  the  regiment,  and  to  assign  the 
post  to  a  fourth  seemed  nothing  less  than  giving 
him  up  to  destruction.  The  poor  fellow  whose 
turn  it  was  to  take  the  station,  though  a  man  in 
other  respects  of  unconquerable  resolution,  trem- 
bled from  head  to  foot.  "I  must  do  my  duty," 
said  lie  to  the  officer ;  "I  know  that,  but  I  should 
like  to  lose  my  life  with  more  credit."  "I  will 
leave  no  man,"  said  the  colonel,  "against  his 
will."  A  man  immediately  stepped  from  the 
ranks,  and  desired  to  take  the  post.  Every  mouth 
commended  his  resolution.  "  I  will  not  be  taken 
alive,' '  said  he,  ' '  and  you  shall  hear  of  me  on  the 
least  alarm.  At  all  events,  I  will  fire  my  piece  if 
I  hear  the  least  noise.  If  a  crow  chatters  or  a 
leaf  falls,  you  shall  hear  my  musket.  You  may 
be  alarmed  when  nothing  is  the  matter  ;  you  must 
take  the  chance  of  that,  as  the  condition  of  un- 
making the  discovery."  The  colonel  applauded 
his  courage,  and  told  him  he  would  be  right  to 
fire  upon  the  least  noise  which  was  ambiguous. 
His  comrades  shook  hands  with  him,  and  left  him 
with  a  melancholy  foreboding.  The  company 
marched  back,  and  waited  the  event  in  the  guard- 
house, with  the  most  anxious  curiosity. 

An  hour  had  elapsed,  and  every  ear  was  upon 
the  rack  for  the  discharge  of  the  musket,  when, 
upon  a  sudden,  the  report  was  heard.  The  guard 
immediately  marched,  accompanied,  as  before,  by 
the  colonel  and  some  of  the  most  experienced  offi- 
cers  of  the  regiment.  As  they  approached  the 
post,  they  saw  the  man  advancing  towards  them, 


tlragging  another  man  on  the  ground  by  the  hair 
of  the  head.     When    they  came   up   to   him,  it 
appeared  to  be  an  Indian  whom  he  had  shot.    An 
explanation  was  immediately  required.      ' '  I  told 
your  honor,"  said  the  man,  "that  I  should  fire  if 
heard  the  least  noise.     The  resolution  I  had  taken 
has  saved  my  life,  and  led  to  the  discovery.     I 
had  not  been  long  on  my  post,  when  I  heard  a 
rustling  at  some  short  distance  :    I  looked,   and 
saw  an  American  hog,  such  as  are  common  in  the 
woods,  crawling  along  the  ground,  and  seemingly 
looking  for  nuts  under  the  trees,  and  among  the 
leaves.     As  these  animals  are  so  very  common,  I 
ceased  to  consider  it  for  some  minutes  ;  but  being 
on  the  constant  alarm  and  expectation  of  attack, 
and   scarcely  knowing  what  to   consider  a  real 
cause  of  apprehension,  or  not.  I   kept  my  eyes 
vigilantly  fixed  upon  it,  and  marked  its  progress 
among  the  trees  ;    still  there  was  no  need  to  give 
the  alarm,  and  my  thoughts  were,  notwithstand- 
ing, directed  to  danger  from  another  quarter.     It 
struck  me,  however,  as  somewhat  singular,  to  see 
the  animal  making,  by  a  circuitous  passage,  for 
a  thick  coppice,  immediately  behind  ni}-  post.     I 
therefore    kept   my   eyes   more   constantly   fixed 
upon  it,  and,  as  it  was  now  within  a  few  yards  of 
the  coppice,  I  hesitated  whether  I  should  fire.  My 
comrades,  thought  I,  will  laugh  at  me  for  alarm- 
ing them  by  shooting  a  pig  !     I  had  almost  re- 
solved to  let  it  alone,  when,  just  as  it  approached 
the    thicket,    I    thought    I    observed   it   give    an 
unusual  spring.      I   no  longer  hesitated ;  I  took 
my  aim,  discharged  my  piece,  and  the  animal  was 
instantly  stretched  before  me,  with  a  groan  which 
I  conceived  to  be  that  of  a  human  creature.     I 
went  up  to  it,  and  judge  my  astonishment  when  I 
found  I  had  killed  an  Indian  !     He  had  enveloped 
himself  with  the  skin  of  one  of  these  wild  hogs 
so  artfully  and    completely,  his   hands  and  feet 
were  so  entirely  concealed  in  it,  and  his  gait  and 
appearance  were  so  exactly  correspondent  to  that  of 
the  animal,  that,  imperfectly  as  they  were  always 
seen  through  the  trees  and  juugles,  the  disguise 
could  not  be  penetrated  at  a  distance,  and  scarcelv 
discovered    upon    the   nearest   aspect.       He   was 
armed  with  a  dagger  and  a  tomahawk."     Such 
was  the  substance  of  this  man's  relation.     The 
cause  of  the  disappearance  of  the  other  sentinels 
was  now   apparent.     The    Indians,    sheltered    in 
this  disguise,  secreted  themselves  in  the  coppice; 
watched  the  moment  when  thev  could  throw  it 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


121 


off;  burst  upon  the  sentinels  without  previous 
alarm,  and,  too  quick  to  give  them  an  opportunity 
to  discharge  their  pieces,  either  stabbed  or  scalped 
them,  and  bore  their  bodies  away,  which  they 
concealed  at  some  distance  in  the  leaves. 


THE  ENCHANTED  GUN. 

IT  once  happened,  that  an  honest  old  simpleton, 
who  had  been  "to  training,"  had  made 
money  enough  by  throwing  stones  at  a  "  peg ' '  to 
get  very  comfortably  fuddled,  even  without  any 
draft  upon  his  purse  of  three  "fourpence-ha- 
penny  pieces ' '  laid  by  for  that  purpose  several 
months  before.  Some  wags,  who  had  kept 
soberer  upon  the  occasion  than  our  hero,  not 
having  had  so  good  luck  at  gingerbread  gambling, 
loaded  his  gun  to  the  very  muzzle  with  alternate 
charges  of  excellent  powder  and  touchwood,  and, 
starting  him  homeward,  took  care  to  put  a  red- 
hot  nail  upon  the  topmost  piece  of  touchwood. 
Uncle  Ichabod,  honest  old  soul,  shouldered  his  fire- 
lock and  took  up  his  ' '  line  of  march ' '  for  home. 
He  had  not  gone  far,  however,  before  pop  goes 
the  charge  from  his  gun.  Rather  singular, 
thought  uncle  Ich,  but  a  mere  accident,  doubtless  ; 
a  charge  being  left  there  carelessly.  A  few  rods 
farther,  bang  !  goes  the  second  charge.  "Lord  a 
mercy,"  says  Ichabod,  "  this  is  tarnal  strange,  I 
swagger;  but  I  guess  it  didn't  all  go  off  the  first 
time,  or  else  'twouldn't  go  off  again,  and  would 
it  though  ?  ' '  He  had  hardly  finished  this  dia- 
logue with  himself,  before  off  goes  the  repeater 
again.  "  My  gracious  !  "  exclaimed  our  terrified 
military  man,  "the  Old  Boy  is  in  the  gun.  I 
never  heard  of  such  a  thing  in  my  born  days  ! ' ' 
— an  exclamation  which  he  had  hardly  concluded, 
before  his  everlasting  musket  struck  four,  and 
Ichabod,  having  no  longer  any  fellowship  for  a 
weapon  possessing  such  fearful  continuity  of  ex- 
plosion, very  prudently  threw  it  over  the  fence, 
and  made  rapid  strides  for  the  house  of  the  clergy- 
man, having  now  no  doubt  that  he  or  his  gun  was 
bewitched.  The  clergyman  himself  was  not 
without  his  doubts  on  the  subject,  after  Ichabod 
had  testified  to  the  whole  story,  the  truth  of 
which  was  corroborated  by  several  distinct  dis- 
charges from  the  gun,  in  the  place  where  he  had 
thrown  it,  which  was  within  plain  hearing  of  the 
parties.  However,  while  the  matter  remained 
entirely  unsettled,  the  mischievous  caitiffs,  who 
had  caused  all  the  alarm,  arrived  with  the  offend- 


ing musket,  which  made  its  last  discharge  in  the 
clergyman's  presence,  and  refused  further  service 
till  reloaded.  It  was  never  fairly  settled,  however, 
between  him  and  Ichabod,  whether  or  not  it  was 
a  case  of  real  witchcraft — a  matter  which  we  are 
the  first  to  put  fairly  at  rest,  by  detailing  these 
particulars. 

Another  somewhat  similar  incident,  though  of 
an  opposite  character,  took  place  at  the  battle  of 
New  Orleans.  The  old  flint-lock  muskets  with 
which  a  portion  of  General  Jackson's  troops  were 
armed,  were  made  with  the  bore  slightly  larger 
than  the  cartridge,  to  facilitate  loading,  and  it 
was  the  custom  during  a  battle,  when  rapid  firing 
became  necessary,  for  the  soldiers  to  send  their 
cartridges  home,  not  with  the  ramrod,  by  a  quick, 
hard  jar  of  the  butt  of  the  musket  against  the 
ground.  It  happened,  during  this  battle,  that 
one  of  the  soldiers  used  a  damp  cartridge,  which 
did  not  ignite,  and  consequently  the  gun  was  not 
discharged  ;  but  there  was  so  much  noise  from 
the  firing  of  other  guns  around  him  that  the  sol- 
dier did  not  notice  it,  and  continued  loading  and 
firing,  as  he  supposed,  during  the  entire  battle. 
When  victory  was  announced  he  examined  his 
musket,  and  was  astonished  to  find  it  full  nearly 
to  the  muzzle — he  had  not  fired  a  shot  during  the 
battle,  although  he  had  been  very  active  in  his 
efforts  at  loading  and  firing. 


A  THRILLING  INCIDENT  OF  THE  PESTILENCE 
IN  BOSTON. 

AN  educated  and  truthful  gentleman  relates 
the  following  thrilling  incident  connected 
with  the  yellow  fever  epidemic  which  occurred 
in  Boston  many  years  ago  : 

In  my  mind,  the  urn-burial  of  the  ancients  has 
always  been  sacredly  and  pleasantly  associated. 
The  clean,  white  marble,  containing  the  purified 
remains  of  all  we  have  loved,  is  an  object  around 
which  affection  loves  to  linger ;  but  the  damp, 
dark  grave,  with  its  silent,  loathsome  work  of 
corruption,  is  a  revolting  subject  of  contempla- 
tion, even  where  love  is  stronger  than  death. 
Then  there  is  a  fear  of  being  buried  before  the 
vital  spark  is  extinct,  and  of  returning  to  con- 
sciousness with  the  weight  of  the  earth  upon  you, 
and  the  fresh  air  of  heaven  shut  out  for  ever ! 
To  me  this  idea  is  so  terribly  distinct,  that  it  is 
the  spectre  of  my  waking  hours  and  the  night- 
mare   of    my   dreams.       Death   himself    has   no 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


horrors  for  me  :  though  well  content  with  life,  and 
bound  to  it  by  the  strongest  ties,  I  think  I  could 
calmly  close  my  eyes  beneath  its  oblivious  touch  ; 
but  human  nature  shrinks  at  the  thought  of  being 
buried  alive  !  Perhaps  the  vividness  of  this  im- 
pression is  owing  to  the  remark  I  frequently 
heard  from  an  aged  relative,  while  I  was  yet  a 
very  small  child,  that  "hundreds  and  hundreds 
were  buried  before  the}-  were  dead,  when  the 
yellow  fever  raged  so  terribly  in  Boston."  That 
peridd  is  well  remembered  by  our  fathers,  when 
pestilence  walked  abroad  at  noon-day,  and  the 
hearth-stone  was  silent  and  dreary  as  the  tomb. 
The  death-carts  went  their  continued  round 
through  every  hour  of  the  day  and  night,  and, 
unshrouded  and  uncoffined,  the  newly  dead  were 
hurried  to  their  last  home.  I  knew  a  man  who, 
during  this  time  of  peril,  was  snatched  from  the 
grave  merely  by  the  persevering  affection  of  his 
wife.  Of  the  correctness  of  the  story  there  is  no 
doubt ;  for  I  have  often  heard  it  repeated  by  both 
the  parties  concerned.  This  awful  visitation  of 
God  came  upon  them  when  they  were  newly 
married  ;  when  existence  was  happiness,  and  sep- 
aration worse  than  death.  The  young  husband 
became  a  victim  to  that  disease,  which  was  breath- 
ing destruction  over  the  city.  The  friends  of  his 
wife  urged  her  to  seek  refuge  in  the  country,  and 
not  risk  her  own  life  in  a  useless  attempt  to  save 
his.  But  no  persuasion  could  induce  her  to  leave 
him  ;  night  and  da}-  she  was  by  his  bedside  ;  and, 
in  the  anguish  of  her  heart,  she  prayed  that  the 
pestilence  might  likewise  rest  upon  her.  But  her 
prayer  was  not  answered — surely  and  rapidly  it 
did  its  work  upon  all  her  heart  held  dear ;  but  to 
her,  death  would  not  come,  though  she  prayed 
for  it,  and  sought  it  with  tears.  She  had  inhaled 
the  breath  of  her  dying  husband ;  but  to  her  it 
was  harmless;  and,  in  the  madness  of  despair, 
she  repined  at  the  merciful  decrees  of  Heaven. 

No  one  was  with  her  in  the  house — she  was 
alone  with  the  dead.  Suddenly,  the  silence  of 
the  deserted  streets  was  interrupted  by  the  rum- 
bling of  the  death-carts  ;  and  she  knew  they  had 
come  to  take  him  away  from  her  sight  forever; 
and  with  the  thought,  it  suddenly  flashed  into 
her  mind,  that  life  might  still  be  in  him  !  Her 
entreaties  excited  compassion,  and  she  was  per- 
mitted to  keep  the  corpse  one  half-hour  longer. 
The  impression  made  upon  her  mind  had  the 
Strength  of  inspiration,  and  though  every  restora- 


tive which  ingenuity  could  devise  had  failed  to 
produce  an  effect,  she  would  not  relinquish  hope. 
Again  the  carts  came  round,  and  the  solemn 
sound,  "Bring  out  the  dead,"  disturbed  the  fear- 
ful stillness.  Again  the  young  wife  entreated, 
wept,  and  screamed :  the  hearts  of  the  men, 
whose  dreadful  employment  accustomed  them  to 
such  scenes,  were  touched  ;  but  the}-  would  not 
yield.  They  said,  "The  safety  of  the  city  re- 
quired them  to  be  firm  in  the  discharge  of  their 
duty;  that  they  had  already  disobeyed  strict 
orders,  and  they  dared  not  do  it  again  ;  that  the 
hope  of  restoring  him  was  mere  insanity  ;  it  was 
evident  he  had  long  been  dead." 

When  she  found  they  would  not  be  moved  by 
her  prayers,  she  threw  her  arms  around  the  body, 
and  clung  to  it  with  the  strength  of  madness  ;  de- 
claring, if  the\'  buried  one,  they  should  bury 
both.  The  men,  after  a  few  gentle  attempts  to 
remove  her,  dashed  the  tears  from  their  eyes,  and 
saying,  "We  cannot  separate  them,"  left  her 
another  half  hour  of  hope.  The  moments  of  that 
interval  had  a  value,  of  which  mortals  under  or- 
dinary circumstances  can  form  no  conception. 
Restorative  after  restorative  was  applied  ;  but  all 
in  vain.  With  sickening  anxiety,  she  fastened 
her  eyes  upon  the  watch,  and  then  on  the  stiff, 
cold  form  beside  her.  The  half  hour  had  nearly 
gone ;  in  five  minutes,  they  would  again  come  to 
claim  the  dead  ;  and  she  felt  that  she  must  resist 
no  longer !  She  breathed  into  his  nostrils — she 
moved  her  hand  upon  his  chest,  to  restore  the 
action  of  the  lungs — but  no  change  came  over 
his  rigid  features.  She  bathed  his  temples  and 
moistened  his  lips  with  sal  volatile — the  terrible 
rumbling  of  carts  was  heard  in  the  distance— 
and,  in  the  trembling  eagerness  of  the  moment, 
she  spilled  the  contents  of  the  phial  into  his  nos- 
trils— a  sudden  convulsion  passed  over  the  face 
of  the  dead  !  a  short,  quick  gasp — and  the  eyes 
heavily  opened  ! 

The  men  with  the  death  carts  were  startled  by 
a  loud,  shrill  shriek,  that  sounded  as  if  it  tore 
asunder  the  soul  from  which  it  came.  When 
the}-  entered,  they  found  the  dead  living,  and  the 
living  senseless. 

Both  husband  and  wife  were  soon  after  restored 
to  health.  They  lived  to  be  the  parents  of  a 
numerous  family  ;  and  the  husband  survived  the 
faithful  wife,  who,  with  the  strong  arm  of  love, 
thus  snatched  him  from  an  early  grave. 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


123 


ARNOLD,   THE  TRAITOR. 

DURING  the  traitor  Arnold's  predator}'  opera- 
tions in  Virginia,  in  1781,  he  took  an  Amer- 
ican captain  prisoner.  After  some  general  con- 
versation, he  asked  the  captain  what  he  thought 
the  Americans  would  do  with  him,  if  they  caught 
him.  The  captain  declined  at  first  giving  him 
an  answer ;  but,  upon  being  repeatedly  urged,  he 
said,  "Why,  sir,  if  I  must  answer  the  question, 
you  will  excuse  my  telling  you  the  truth  :  if  my 
countrvmen   should   catch   you.    I   believe   they 


saltpetre  and  brimstone  with  other  ingredients, 
and  set  them  upon  a  fire  in  a  crucible  ;  but  a 
spark  getting  into  it,  the  pot  immediately  broke 
with  great  violence  and  noise  ;  which  event  sur- 
prised him  at  first,  but  he  repeated  his  experiment, 
and  finding  the  effect  constant,  set  himself  to 
work  to  improve  it ;  for  which  purpose  he  caused 
an  iron  pipe  to  be  made,  with  a  small  hole  to  fire 
at,  and  putting  in  some  of  his  ingredients,  to- 
gether with  small  stones,  set  fire  to  it,  and  found 
it  answered  his  expectations  in  penetrating  all 


besieging  A  town  with  ancient  cannon.     (Accurate  copy  of  aii  engraving  of  the  fourteenth  century.) 


would  first  cut  off  your  lame  leg,  which  was 
wounded  in  the  cause  of  freedom  and  virtue  at 
Quebec,  and  bury  it  with  the  honours  of  war,  and 
afterwards  hang  the  remainder  of  your  body  upon 
a  gibbet." 


THE  INVENTION  OF  GUNS. 

GUNS  and  cannons  were  introduced  into 
Europe  by  the  Germans,  and  it  was  brought 
about  in  this  manner  : — One  Barthoe  Schwatis,  a 
friar,   in  making   chemical   experiments,   mixed 


before  it.  This  happened  about  the  year  133& 
and  was  soon  improved  to  the  making  of  great 
ordnance,  etc. 

As  early  as  969,  the  Chinese,  under  their 
Emperor  Fai-tsu,  tied  rockets  to  their  arrows  to 
propel  them  to  greater  distances,  and  also  for 
incendiary  purposes  ;  so  that  the  idea  of  artillery, 
as  well  as  the  invention  of  gunpowder,  is  justly 
due  to  them.  It  is  said  that  the  Moors  used 
artillery  at  the  siege  of  Cordova  as  early  as  1280. 
The  Spaniards  learned  its  use  from  them,  and 


124     THE  WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


Ferdinand  IV.  of  Castile  captured  Gibraltar  with 
cannon  in  1309.  The  first  European  cannon  were 
made  of  longitudinal  bars  of  iron,  bound  together 
with  hoops,  or  occasionally  cylindrical  pieces  of 
timber,  also  bound  with  iron  hoops,  to  prevent 
them  from  bursting.  Many  of  these  ancient 
cannons  were  very  heavy,  and  were  generally 
made  of  several  pieces  screwed  together,  and 
could  not  be  moved  without  being  taken  apart. 
In  France  one  of  these  guns  weighed  10,000 
pounds,  and  threw  a  400-lb.  projectile  ;  another 
weighed  36,000  pounds,  with  a  900-lb.  projectile. 


THE  TREBUCHET.      (Accurate  copy  of  ancient  engraving.) 

Stones  were  the  first  missiles  used,  and  these  were 
thrown  at  a  high  angle  for  the  purpose  of  giving 
them  greater  power  and  longer  range,  owing  to 
the  inferior  quality  of  the  powder  used  in  those 
days.  They  moved  with  little  velocity,  and  their 
range  was  exceedingly  inaccurate.  Even  at  as  late 
a  date  as  the  war  between  the  United  States  and 
Mexico,  Gen.  Grant  asserts  in  his  Memoirs  that, 
at  the  battle  of  Palo  Alto,  the  balls  discharged 
from  the  Mexican  cannons  moved  so  slowly  that 
the  American  troops  were  generally  able  to 
observe  their  approach  and  keep  out  of  their  way. 


Many  of  the  earliest  cannons  were  breech- 
loaders, as  appears  by  various  engravings,  but 
these  were  abandoned  on  account  of  their  imper- 
fect mechanism  and  the  numerous  accidents  that 
resulted  from  their  use. 

At  the  museum  of  arms  in  the  Tower  of  Lon- 
don, there  is  a  revolving  musket,  invented  about 
the  middle  of  the  17th  century,  and  operated  on 
the  same  principle  as  modern  revolving  guns  and 
pistols.  It  has  a  six-chambered  revolving  cylinder 
at  the  breech,  connecting  with  a  long  barrel  through 
which   the  discharge  was  made.      The  cylinder 

was  operated  by  the 
hand,  and  not  by 
springs,  as  in  the 
more  modern  inven- 
tions. There  is  no 
record  of  the  history 
of  this  peculiar  gun, 
and  the  cause  of  its 
not  coming  into  gen- 
eral use  is  unknown  ; 
but  it  no  doubt  sup- 
plied Mr.  Colt  with 
his  idea  for  the  re- 
volver. 

During  our  war  of 
the  revolution  Fergu- 
son's regiment  of 
British    soldiers    was 
armed  with  a  breech- 
loading  rifle,  capable 
of  being   fired  five 
times    per   m  i  n  u  t  e . 
Washington    had    to 
contend  against  these 
deadly  rifles    at    the 
battle  of  Brandy  wine, 
and  his  defeat  there 
is  attributed  to   their   rapid    and  withering  fire. 
They  were  used   again   at   the    battle  of  King's 
Mountain,  in    North    Carolina,    but   being  long- 
range   weapons    they    overshot    the   Americans, 
who  were  below  the    British   on   the   mountain- 
side, and  who  also  rushed  into  close  quarters  at 
the    commencement    of    the   fight,    where    their 
fowling-pieces  and  squirrel-guns  did  fearful  exe- 
cution.    It  is  singular  that  these  breech-loading 
rifles  were  so  soon  forgotten,  and  still  more  sin- 
gular that  they  are  not  mentioned  by  an}-  of  the 
historians.     Previous   to  the  invention   of    artil- 


A   SOLDIER   BEFORE   THE   DAYS    OF    ARTILLERY. 


126 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


lery,  numerous  machines  were  contrived  to  serve 
in  its  stead,  such  as  the  catapult,  battering-ram, 
trebuchet,  etc.  The  latter  was  a  machine  for  cast- 
ing stones,  and  the  method  of  its  use  is  shown  in 
the  accompanying  illustration,  copied  from  an 
engraving  in  in  Grose's  "  Military  Antiquities." 

There  were  also  machines  for  shooting  arrows, 
and  for  breaking  the  ranks  of  the  enemy,  as 
shown  in  the  accompanying  illustrations.  The 
former  was  stationary,  while  the  latter  seems  to 
have  been  adapted  to  movable  infantry  use,  from 
the  more  ancient  scythed  chariots  which  date  back 


MACHINE  INTENDED  TO  BREAK  THE  EN- 
EMY'S RANKS  AND  TO  CRUSH  HIS  SOL- 
DIERS— DATE,   1532. 


MACHINE  TO  fcHOOT  ARROWS  AND  TO 
ASSIST  IN  APPROACHING  A  BESIEGED 
TOWN—DATE,   1555. 

(Accurate  copies  of  ancient  engravings.) 
to  the  earliest  periods  of  history.  These  machines  fell  into  a  sound  slumber 
were  constructed  in  as  grotesque  and  horrible 
shapes  as  possible,  for  the  purpose  of  terrifying  the 
enemy  by  their  frightful  appearance  as  well 
as  by  their  destructive  powers.  Such  instruments 
of  death  were  regarded,  during  the  superstitious 
ages  in  which  the}-  were  used,  as  contrivances  of 
the  devil,  and  the  bravest  soldiers  were  stricken 
-with  terror  on  their  approach. 


AN    ANGLO-SAXON    POET. 

THE  first  Anglo-Saxon   writer  of  note,   who 
composed  in  his  own  language,  and  of  whom 
there  are  any  remains,  was  Caedmon,   a  monk  of 


Whitby,  who  died  about  680.  He  was  a  poet  of 
nature's  making,  sprung  from  the  bosom  of  the 
common  people,  and  little  indebted  to  education. 
At  one  time  he  acted  in  the  capacity  of  cow-herd, 
then  considered  one  of  the  lowest  callings,  and 
from  which  has  come  our  modern  word  coward, 
owing  to  the  contempt  with  which  the  soldier- 
robbers  of  those  ancient  times  regarded  all  who 
engaged  in  pastoral  pursuits.  The  circumstances 
under  which  his  talents  were  first  developed  are 
recorded  by  the  historian  Bede,  with  a  strong  cast 
of  the  marvellous,  through  which,  however,  it  is 

possible  to  trace  a  basis 
of  truth.  It  is  stated 
that  he  was  so  much 
less  instructed  than 
most  of  his  equals,  that 
he  had  not  even  learnt 
any  poetry  ;  so  that  he 
was  frequently  obliged 
to  retire,  in  order  to 
hide  his  shame,  when 
the  harp  was  moved 
toward  him  in  the  hall, 
where  at  supper  it  was 
customary  for  each  per- 
son to  sing  in  turn.  On 
one  of  these  occasions, 
it  happened  to  be  Csed- 
mon's  turn  to  keep 
guard  at  the  stable 
during  the  night,  and, 
overcome  with  vexa- 
tion, he  quitted  the 
table  and  retired  to  his 
post  of  duty,  where, 
laying  himself  down,  he 
In  the  midst  of  sleep, 
a  stranger  appeared  to  him,  and,  saluting  him  by 
his  name,  said,  "Caedmon,  sing  me  something." 
Caedmon  answered,  "I  know  nothing  to  sing; 
for  my  incapacity  in  this  respect  was  the  cause 
of  my  leaving  the  hall  to  come  hither."  "  Nay, 
said  the  stranger,  "but  thou  hast  something  to 
sing."  "What  must  I  sing?"  said  Caedmon. 
"Sing  the  Creation,"  was  the  reply,  and  there- 
upon Ceedmon  began  to  sing  verses  "which  he 
never  had  heard  before,"  and  which  are  said  to 
have  been  as  follows  : 


BEAUTIFUL   IN  THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


127 


Nu  we  sceolan  herian 

heofon-rices  weard, 

metodes  niihte, 

and  his  mod-ge-thonc, 

wera  wuldor  feeder ! 

swa  he  wundra  ge-hwaes, 

ece  dryhten, 

oord  onstealde. 

He  arrest  ge  sceop 

}-eda  bearnum 

heofon  to  hrofe, 

halig  scyppend ! 

tha  middan-geard 

rnon-cynnes  weard, 

ece  dryhten, 

sefter  teode, 

firuni  foldan, 

frea  celmihtig ! 


ENGLISH    TRANSLATION. 

Now  we  shall  praise 

the  guardian  of  heaven, 

the  might  of  the  Creator, 

and  his  counsel, 

the  glory-father  of  men ! 

how  he  of  all  wonders, 

the  eternal  Lord, 

formed  the  beginning. 

He  first  created 

for  the  children  of  men 

heaven  as  a  roof, 

the  holy  Creator ! 

then  the  world 

the  guardian  of  mankind, 

the  eternal  Lord, 

produced  afterwards, 

the  earth  for  men, 

the  almighty  Master ! 


Caedmon  then  awoke  ;  and  he  was  not  only  able 
to  repeat  the  lines  which  he  had  made  in  his  sleep, 
but  he  continued  them  in  a  strain  of  admirable 
versification.     In  the  morning,  he  hastened  to  the 
town-reeve,    or   bailiff,   of  Whitby,    who  carried 
him  before  the  Abbess  Hilda  ;  and  there,  in  the 
presence  of  some  of  the  learned  men  of  the  place, 
he  told  his  story,  and  the}'  were  all  of  opinion 
that    he    had    received    the  gift  of   song    from 
heaven.     They  then  expounded   to  him   in   his 
mother  tongue  a  portion  of  Scripture,  which  he 
was  required  to  repeat  in  verse.     Caedmon  went 
home  with  his  task,  and  the  next  morning  he  pro- 
duced a  poem   which  excelled  in  beaut}-  all  that 
they  were  accustomed  to  hear.     He  afterwards 
yielded  to  the  earnest  solicitations  of  the  Abbess 
Hilda,  and  became  a  monk  of  her  house  ;  and  she 
ordered  him  to  transfer  into  verse  the  whole  of  the 
sacred  history.    We  are  told  that  he  was  continu- 
ally occupied    in  repeating  to  himself  what  he 
heard,  and,  "like  a  clean  animal,  ruminating  it, 
he  turned  it  into  most  sweet  verse."     Caedmon 
thus  composed  many  poems  on  the  Bible  histories, 
and  on  miscellaneous  religious  subjects,  and  some 
of  these  have  been  preserved.     His  account  of  the 
Fall  of   Man   is    somewhat   like    that    given   in 
"Paradise  Lost,"  and  one  passage  in  it  might 
almost   be   supposed    to   have   been    the    found- 
ation  of  a   corresponding  one   in  Milton's  sub- 
lime epic.     It  is  that  in  which  Satan  is  described 
as  reviving  from  the  consternation  of  his  over- 
throw.    A  modern  translation  into  English  fol- 
lows : 


[SATAN'S    SPEECH.] 
Boiled  within  him 
his  thought  about  heart ; 
Hot  was  without  him 
his  dire  punishment. 
Then  spake  he  words  : 
"This  narrow  place  is  most  unlike 
that  other  that  we  formerly  knew, 
high  in  heaven's  kingdom, 
which  my  master  bestowed  on  me. 
though  we  it,  for  the  All-powerful, 
may  not  possess. 
We  must  cede  our  realm  ; 
yet  hath  he  not  done  rightly, 
that  hath  struck  us  down 
to  the  fiery  abyss 
of  the  hot  hell, 

bereft  us  of  heaven's  kingdom, 
hath  decreed 
to  people  it 
with  mankind. 

That  is  to  me  of  sorrows  the  greatest, 
that  Adam, 

who  was  wrought  of  earth, 
shall  possess 
my  strong  seat ; 

that  it  shall  be  to  him  in  delight, 
and  we  endure  this  torment, 
misery  in  this  hell." 

The  following  specimen  of  Anglo-Saxon,  with 
a  literal  translation  into  modern  English,  is  from 
the  writings  of  Alfric,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
who  died  in  1006.  He  was  a  voluminous  writer 
of  pure  Anglo-Saxon  of  his  time,  and  we  give 
this  extract  both  as  a  curiosity  and  a  sample  of  the 
ancient  source  of  our  present  tongue 

SAXON.  TRANSLATION. 

Haethen  cild  bith,  ge-ful-  (A)  heathen  child  is  christ- 
lod,  ac  hit  ne  brset  na  his  ened,  yet  he  altereth  not  his 
hiw  with-utan,  dheah  dhe  hit  shape  without,  though  he 
beo  with-innan  awend.  Hit  be  within  changed.  He  is 
bith  ge-broht  synfull  dhurh  brought  s  i  n  f  u  1  through 
Adames  forgaegednysse  to  Adam's  disobedience  to  the 
tharn  fant  fate.  Ac  hit  bith  font-vessel.  But  he  is  washed 
athwogen  fram  eallum  syn-  from  all  sins  inwardly, 
num  with-innan,  dheah  dhe  though  he  outwardly  his 
hit  with-utan  nis  hiw  ne  shape  not  change.  Even 
awende.  Eac  swylce  tha  so  the  holy  font  water, 
halige  fant  waster,  dhe  is  ge-  which  is  called  life's  foun- 
haten  lifes  wyl-spring,  is  ge-  tain,  is  like  in  shape  (to) 
lie  on  hiwe  odhrum  wae-  other  waters,  and  is  subject 
terum,  &  is  under  dheod  to  corruption ;  but  the  Holy 
brosnunge  ;  ac  dhaes  halgan  Ghost's  might  comes  (to) 
gastes  miht  ge-nealsecth  the  corruptible  water 
tham  brosnigendlicum,  wae-  through  (the)  priests'  bless- 
tere   dhurh     sacerda     blet-  ing,  and  it  may  afterwards 


128 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


sunge,    &   hit   m'eg   sytkan   body  and  soul  wash  from  all 
lichaman    &  sawle  athwean   sin,  through  ghostly  might, 
fram  eallum  syrmurn,  dhurh 
gastlice  mihte. 

The  following  extract  from  the  Saxon  Chroni- 
cles of  1 154,  with  modern  translation,  will  also 
be  interesting  in  this  connection  : 

TRANSLATION. 


SAXON. 

On  this  yaer  waerd  the 
King  Stephen  ded,and  beby- 
ried  there  his  wif  and  his 
sune  waeron  bebyried  aet 
Tauresfeld.  That  ministre 
hi  makiden.  Tha  the  king 
was  ded,  tha  was  the  eorl 
beionde  sse.  And  ne  durste 
nan  man  don  other  bute  god 
for  the  micel  eie  of  him. 
Tha  he  to  Engleland  come, 
tha  was  he  underfangen  mid 
micel  wortscipe  ;  and  to  king 
bletcced  in  Lundiue,  on  the 
Sunnen  dad  beforen  mid- 
winter-dagi. 


In  this  year  was  the  King 
Stephen  dead,  and  buried 
where  his  wife  and  son  were 
buried,  at  Touresfield.  That 
minister  they  made.  When 
the  king  was  dead,  then  was 
the  earl  beyond  sea.  And  not 
durst  no  man  do  other  but 
good  for  the  great  awe  of  him. 
When  he  to  England  came, 
then  was  he  received  with 
great  worship  ;  and  to  king 
consecrated  in  London,  on 
the  Sunday  before  mid-win- 
ter-day  (Christmas  day). 


A   MOHAMMEDAN'S   LECTURE  ON   CHRISTIAN 
VICES. 

THE  following  is  selected  from  the  writings  of 
John  Mandeville,  who  was  born  in  1300.  Com- 
pared with  the  preceding  article,  it  shows  the  pro- 
gress made  in  the  English  language  during  the 
one  and  a  half  centuries  that  intervened : 

And  therefore  I  shall  tell  you  what  the  Soudan 
told  me  upon  a  day,  in  his  chamber.  He  let 
voiden  out  of  his  chamber  all  manner  of  men, 
lords,  and  other ;  for  he  would  speak  with  me  in 
counsel.  And  there  he  asked  me  how  the  Chris- 
tian men  governed  'em  in  our  country-.  And  I 
said  [to]  him,  "Right  well,  thonked  be  God." 
And  he  said  [to]  me,  "Truly  nay,  for  ye  Chris- 
tian men  ne  reckon  right  not  how  untruly  to 
serve  God.  Ye  should  given  ensample  to  the 
lewed  people  for  to  do  well,  and  ye  given  'em  en- 
sample  to  don  evil.  For  the  commons,  upon 
festival  days,  when  they  shoulden  go  to  church 
to  serve  God,  then  gon  the)*  to  taverns,  and  ben 
there  in  gluttony  all  the  day  and  all  night,  and 
eaten  and  drinken,  as  beasts  that  have  no  reason, 
and  wit  not  when  they  have  enow.  And  there- 
withal they  ben  so  proud,  that  the}-  knowen  not 
how  to  ben  clothed ;  now  long,  now  short,  now 
straight,  now  large,  now  sworded,  now  daggered, 
and  in   all  manner  guises.     They  shoulden  ben 


simple,  meek,  and  true,  and  full  of  alms-deed,  as 
Jesu  was,  in  whom  the)-  trow ;  but  the}-  ben  all 
the  contrary,  and  ever  inclined  to  the  evil,  and  to 
don  evil.  And  the}-  ben  so  covetous,  that  for  a 
little  silver  they  sellen  'eir  daughters,  'eir  sisters, 
and  'eir  own  wives,  to  putten  'em  to  lechery.  And 
one  withdraweth  the  wife  of  another ;  and  none 
of  'em  holdeth  faith  to  another,  but  they  defoulen 
'eir  law,  that  Jesu  Christ  betook  'em  keep  for  'eir 
salvation.  And  thus  for  'eir  sins,  han  [have]  they 
lost  all  this  lond  that  we  hoi  den.  For  'eir  sins 
here,  hath  God  taken  'em  in  our  honds,  not  only 
by  strength  of  ourself,  but  for  'eir  sins.  For  we 
knowen  well  in  very  sooth,  that  when  ye  serve 
God,  God  will  help  you;  and  when  he  is  with 
you,  no  man  may  be  against  you.  And  that 
know  we  well  by  our  prophecies,  that  Christian 
men  shall  winnen  this  lond  again  out  of  our 
honds,  when  the}-  serven  God  more  devoutly. 
But  as  long  as  they  ben  of  foul  and  unclean  living 
(as  they  ben  now),  we  have  no  dread  of  'em  in  no 
kind;  for  here  God  will  not  helpen  'em  in  110 
wise. ' ' 

And  then  I  asked  him  how  he  knew  the  state 
of  Christian  men.  And  he  answered  me,  that  he 
knew  all  the  state  of  the  commons  also  by  his 
messengers,  that  he  sent  to  all  lands,  in  maimer 
as  the}-  were  merchants  of  precious  stones,  of 
cloths  of  gold,  and  of  other  things,  for  to  knowen 
the  manner  of  every  country  amongs  Christian 
men.  And  then  he  let  clepe  in  all  the  lords  that 
he  made  voiden  first  out  of  his  chamber  ;  and 
there  he  showed  me  four  that  were  great  lords  in 
the  country,  that  tolden  me  of  my  country,  and 
of  many  other  Christian  countries,  as  well  as  if 
the)-  had  been  of  the  same  country  ;  and  they 
spak  French  right  well,  and  the  Soudan  also, 
whereof  I  had  great  man-el.  Alas,  that  it  is 
great  slander  to  our  faith  and  to  our  laws,  when 
folk  that  ben  withouten  law  shall  reproveu  us, 
and  undernemen  us  of  our  sins.  And  the)'  that 
shoulden  ben  converted  to  Christ  and  to  the  law 
of  Jesus,  by  our  good  example  and  by  our  accept- 
able life  to  God,  ben  through  our  wickedness  and 
evil  living,  far  fro  us  ;  and  strangers  fro  the  holy 
and  very  belief  shall  thus  appellen  us  and  holdeu 
us  for  wicked  levirs  and  cursed.  And  truly  they 
say  sooth.  For  the  Saracens  ben  good  and  faith- 
ful. For  they  keepen  entirely  the  commandment 
of  the  holy  book  Alcoran,  that  God  sent  'em  by 
his  messager  Mahomet ;    to  the  which,   as  they 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THK  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


129 


sayen,  St.  Gabriel,  the  angel,  oftentinie  told  the 
will  of  God. 


WICKLIFFE'S  TRANSLATION   OF  THE  BIBLE. 

JOHN  WICKLIFFE  was  almost  contemporary 
with  Sir  John  Mandeville,  but  there  is  a 
marked  difference  in  the  style  of  the  two,  as  will 
be  seen  by  this  extract  from  Wickliffe's  transla- 
tion of  the  Bible  : 

And  Mar3-e  seyde,  My  soul  magnifieth  the  Lord. 

And  mv  spiryt  hath  gladid  in  God  myn  helthe. 

For  he  hath  behulden  the  mekenesse  of  his  hand- 
mavden  :  for  lo  for  this  alle  generatiouns  schulen  seye 
that  I  am  blessid. 

For  he  that  is  rnighti  hath  don  to  me  grete  thingis,  and 
his  name  is  holy. 

And  his  mercy  is  fro  kyndrede  into  kyndredis  to  men 
that  dreden  him. 

He  hath  made  myght  in  his  arm,  he  scatteride  proude 
men  with  the  thoughte  of  his  herte. 

He  sette  doun  myghty  men  fro  seete,  and  enhaunside 
meke  men.  He  hath  fulfillid  hungry  men  with  goodis, 
and  he  has  left  riche  men  voide. 

He  heuynge  mynde  of  his  mercy  took  up  Israel  his 
child. 

As  he  hath  spokuu  to  oure  fadris,  to  Abraham,  and  to 
his  seed  into  worlds. 

It  will  be  interesting  to  compare  the  above  with 
the  modern  or  King  James  translation  as  it  occurs 
in  Luke  i.  46-55. 


RELICS  OF  SAINTS.       . 

DURING  the  Dark  Ages  great  value  was  at- 
tached to  the  miraculous  qualities  of  the 
relics  of  departed  saints.  Every  church  and 
monastery  had  its  particular  relics.  Some  were 
valued  more  highly  than  others,  in  proportion  to 
the  degree  of  sanctity  which  had  marked  the 
saint's  life  during  his  existence  on  earth.  These 
relics  were  bought  and  sold,  like  other  commodi- 
ties, and  in  some  instances  they  were  even  stolen, 
when  they  could  not  be  obtained  otherwise.  It 
is  entertaining  to  observe  the  singular  ardor  and 
grasping  avidity  of  some,  to  enrich  themselves 
with  these  religious  morsels,  their  little  discern- 
ment, the  curious  impositions  of  the  vendor,  and 
the  good  faith  and  sincerity  of  the  purchaser.  The 
prelate  of  the  place  sometimes  ordained  a  fast  to 
implore  God  that  they  might  not  be  cheated  with 
the  relics  of  saints,  which  he  sometimes  purchased 
for  the  benefit  of  the  village  or  town,  and  in  which 
he  was  occasionally  cheated  by  receiving  the  relics 
of  a  very  bad  person.  In  such  cases  we  presume 
9 


the  miracles  were  of  an  unsatisfactory  and  dan- 
gerous character.  These  things  seem  humorously 
absurd  now,  but  in  their  day  and  time  they  were 
as  real  and  as  much  believed  in  as  any  other 
customs  connected  with  the  history  of  the  human 
race.  Men  were  in  their  infancy  then,  and  they 
thought  and  acted  like  children. 

When  Harold,  who  afterward  became  king  of 
England,  visited  William,  Duke  of  Normandy, 
for  the  purpose  of  persuading  him  to  release  cer- 
tain English  gentlemen  who  had  been  placed  with 
him  as  hostages,  he  was  not  aware  that  the  duke 
also  had  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  English  throne. 
But  William  was  not  long  in  imparting  that  fact 
to  his  guest,  and  he  insisted  that  the  latter  should 
forthwith  relinquish  all  claims  that  he  might  have 
in  the  same  direction.  Harold  was  surprised  at 
the  demand,  but  not  daring  to  resist,  he  feigned 
compliance,  renounced  all  hopes  of  the  crown  for 
himself  and  professed  his  sincere  intention  of 
supporting  the  pretensions  of  the  duke.  William, 
to  bind  him  faster  to  his  interests,  required  him 
to  take  an  oath  to  fulfil  his  promises,  and  in  order 
to  render  the  oath  more  binding,  he  secretly  con- 
ve}7ed  under4  the  altar,  on  which  Harold  had 
agreed  to  swear,  the  relics  of  some  of  the  most 
revered  martyrs.  After  the  oath  was  adminis- 
tered he  showed  the  relics  to  Harold,  and  admon- 
ished him  to  observe  religiously  an  engagement 
which  had  been  ratified  by  so  tremendous  a  sanc- 
tion. Afterward,  when  Harold  ascended  the 
throne  of  England,  in  spite  of  his  obligations  to 
William,  and  was  defeated  and  killed  at  the  battle 
of  Hastings,  his  misfortunes  were  attributed  to 
the  resentment  of  the  saints  over  whose  remains 
he  had  sworn  a  false  oath. 

Guilbert  de  Nogen  wrote  a  treatise  on  the  relics 
of  saints  ;  acknowledging  that  there  were  many 
false  ones  as  well  as  false  legends  ;  he  reprobates 
the  inventors  of  these  lying  miracles.  He  wrote 
his  treatise  on  the  occasion  of  a  tooth  of  our 
Lord  by  which  the  monks  of  St.  Medard  de 
Soissons  pretended  to  operate  miracles.  He 
asserts  that  this  pretension  is  as  chimerical  as  that 
of  several  persons  who  believed  they  possessed 
other  portions  of  the  bod}'  of  the  Saviour. 

Another  has  written  a  history  of  what  he  calls 
the  translation  of  the  relics  of  Saint  Magean  to 
the  monastry  of  Villemagne.  Translation  is  in 
fact  only  a  softened  expression  for  the  robbery  of 
the  relics  of  the  saint  committed  by  two  monks, 


130    THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


who  carried  them  off  secretly  to  enrich  their  mon- 
astery ;  and  they  did  not  hesitate  at  any  artifice 


BATTLE   OF   HASTINGS   AND   DEATH    OF    HAROLD. 


to  complete  their  design.     They  thought  every 
thing  was  permitted  to   acquire   these  fragments 


of  mortality,  which  had  now  become  a  branch  of 
commerce.     The}-  even  regarded  their  possessors 

with  a  hostile  eye. 
Such  were  the  re- 
ligious opinions 
from  the  ninth  to 
the  twelfth  cen- 
tury. Canute,  the 
Dane,  commis- 
sioned his  agent  at 
Rome  to  purchase 
Saint  Augustine's 
arm  for  one  hun- 
dred talents  of  sil- 
ver and  one  of 
gold!  a  much 
larger  sum  than 
the  finest  statue  of 
antiquity  would 
have  then  sold  for. 
Another  monk 
describes  a  strange 
act  of  devotion  at- 
tested by  several 
contemporary  wri- 
ters. When  the 
saints  did  not 
readily  comply 
with  the  prayers  of 
their  votaries, 
they  flogged  their 
relics  with  rods,  in 
a  spirit  of  impa- 
tience which  they 
conceived  was 
proper  to  make 
them  bend  into 
compliance. 

Theofroy,  abbot 
of  Epternac ,  to 
raise  our  admira- 
tion, rel ates  the 
daily  miracles  per- 
formed by  the  rel- 
ics of  saints,  their 
ashes,  their  clothes, 
or  other  mortal 
spoils,  and  even  by 
the  instruments 
of  their  martyrdom.  He  inveighs  against  that 
luxury   of    ornaments  which    was   indulged  un- 


ST.   AUGUSTINE.      (From  the  Painting  by  de  Crayer.) 


(131) 


132    THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


der  a  religious  pretext;  "It  is  not  to  be  sup- 
posed that  the  saints  are  desirous  of  such  a  pro- 
fusion of  gold  and  silver.  They  wish  not  that  we 
should  raise  to  them  such  magnificent  churches, 
to  exhibit  that  ingenuous  order  of  pillars  which 
shine  with  gold ;  nor  those  rich  ceilings,  nor 
those  altars  sparkling  with  jewels.  The}-  desire 
not  the  purple  parchment  of  price  for  their  writ- 
ings, the  liquid  gold  to  embellish  the  letters,  nor 
the  precious  stones  to  decorate  their  covers  ;  while 
you  have  such  little  care  for  the  ministers  of  the 
altar." 

The  monks  not  being  able  to  deny,  says  Bayle, 
that  there  have  been  false  relics,  which  have 
operated  miracles,  they  reply  that  the  good  inten- 
tions of  those  believers  who  have  recourse  to  them, 
obtained  from  God  this  reward  for  their  good 
faith  !  In  the  same  spirit,  when  it  was  shown 
that  two  or  three  bodies  of  the  same  saint  are 
said  to  exist  in  different  places,  and,  that  there- 
fore they  all  could  not  be  authentic  ;  it  was  an- 
swered, that  they  were  all  genuine  !  for  God  had 
multiplied  and  miraculously  reproduced  them  for 
the  comfort  of  the  faithful  !  A  curious  specimen 
of  the  intolerance  of  good  sense. 

When  the  Reformation  was  spread  in  Lithuania, 
Prince  Radzivil  was  so  affected  by  it,  that  he  went 
in  person  to  pay  the  pope  all  possible  honors. 
His  holiness  on  this  occasion  presented  him  with 
a  precious  box  of  relics.  The  prince  having  re- 
turned home,  some  monks  entreated  permission 
to  try  the  effect  of  these  relics  on  a  demoniac, 
who  had  hitherto  resisted  ever}'  kind  of  exorcism. 
They  were  brought  into  the  church  with  solemn 
pomp,  and  deposited  on  the  altar,  accompanied 
by  an  innumerable  crowd.  After  the  usual  con- 
jurations, which  were  unsuccessful,  they  applied 
the  relics.  The  demoniac  instantly  recovered. 
The  people  called  out  a  miracle  !  and  the  prince, 
lifting  his  hands  and  eyes  to  heaven,  felt  his  faith 
confirmed.  In  this  transport  of  pious  joy,  he 
observed  that  a  young  gentleman  who  was  keeper 
oi  this  treasure  of  relics,  smiled,  and  by  his  mo- 
tions ridiculed  the  miracle.  The  prince  indig- 
nantly took  our  young  keeper  of  the  relics  to 
task  ;  who,  on  promise  of  pardon,  gave  the  fol- 
lowing secret  intelligence  concerning  them  :  "In 
travelling  from  Rome  he  had  lost  the  box  of 
relics  ;  and  not  daring  to  mention  it,  he  had  pro- 
cured a  similar  one,  which  he  had  filled  with  the 
small  bones  of  dogs  and  cats,   and  other  trifles 


similar  to  what  were  lost.  He  hoped  he  might 
be  forgiven  for  smiling,  when  he  found  that  such 
a  collection  of  rubbish  was  idolized  with  such 
pomp,  and  had  even  the  virtue  of  expelling 
demons. 

Stephens,  in  his  Traite  preparatif  a  l'Apologie 
pour  Herodote,  c.  39,  says,  "A  monk  of  St. 
Anthony  having  been  at  Jerusalem,  saw  there 
several  relics,  among  which  were  a  bit  of  the  fin- 
ger of  the  Holy  Ghost,  as  sound  and  entire  as  it 
had  ever  been ;  the  snout  of  the  seraphim  that 
appeared  to  St.  Francis ;  one  of  the  nails  of  a 
cherubim  ;  one  of  the  ribs  of  the  verbum  caro  fac- 
tum ( the  word  made  flesh  ;)  some  rays  of  the  star 
which  appeared  to  the  three  kings  in  the  east  ;  a 
vial  of  St.  Michael's  sweat  when  he  was  fighting 
against  the  devil  ;  a  hem  of  Joseph's  garment, 
which  he  wore  when  he  cleaved  wood,  etc.,  'all 
of  which  things,'  observes  our  treasurer  of  relics, 
I  have  brought  very  devoutly  with  me  home." 

Henry  III.,  of  England,  who  was  deeply  tainted 
with  the  superstition  of  the  age,  summoned  all 
the  great  in  the  kingdom  to  meet  in  London. 
This  summons  excited  the  most  general  curiosity, 
and  multitudes  appeared.  The  king  then  ac- 
quainted them  that  the  great  master  of  the 
Knights  Templars  had  sent  him  a  phial  contain- 
ing ^  small  portion  of  the  precious  blood  of  Christ 
which  he  had  shed  upon  the  cross  !  and  attested 
to  be  genuine  by  the  seals  of  the  patriarch  of 
Terusalem  and  others.  He  commanded  a  proces- 
sion the  following  day,  and  the  historian  adds 
that  though  the  road  between  St.  Paul's  and 
Westminster  abbey  was  very  deep  and  miry,  the 
king  kept  his  eyes  constantly  fixed  on  the  phial. 
Two  monks  received  it,  and  deposited  the  phial  in 
the  abbey,  "which  made  all  England  shine  with 
glory,  dedicating  it  to  God  and  St.  Edward." 
Subsequently  it  was  ascertained  to  be  the  blood 
of  a  duck  which  had  been  deposited  in  the  phial. 

Lord  Herbert,  in  his  Life  of  Henry  VIII.,  of 
England,  notices  the  great  fall  of  the  price  of 
relics.  The  respect  given  to  relics,  and  some 
pretended  miracles,  fell ;  insomuch,  that  a  piece 
of  St.  Andrew's  finger  (covered  only  with  an 
ounce  of  silver,)  being  laid  to  pledge  by  a  mona- 
stery for  forty  pounds,  was  left  unredeemed  at  the 
dissolution  of  the  house  ;  the  king's  commis- 
sioners, who  upon  surrender  of  any  foundation 
undertook  to  pay  the  debts,  refusing  to  return  the 
price   again.     That    is,    they  did  not   choose  to 


A  SAINT  OF  THE  middle  AGES  at  prayer.     (From  the  Painting  by  Gerard  Dow.) 


(133) 


134 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND  THE 


repay   the    forty  pounds,   to    receive    a  piece    of 
the  finger  of  St.  Andrew. 

The  elector  Frederick,  of  Germany,  called  "  the 
Wise,"  was  an  indefatigable  collector  of  relics, 
but  after  his  death  the  price  of  these  articles 
rapidly  declined  in  the  German  empire  ;  and  at 
length  the  advancing  intelligence  of  the  Euro- 
pean nations  caused  this  remarkable  superstition 
to  entirely  disappear. 


THE  DELUSIONS  OF   ALCHEMY. 

DURING  the  Middle  Ages,  alchemy  was  a 
mysterious  art,  aiming  to  change  inferior 
metals  into  silver  and  gold,  and  to  find  the  so- 
called  elixir  of  life,  which  was  to  be  the  universal 
remedy  for  all  diseases,  rejuvenating  the  old,  and 
even  preventing  death.  It  is  said  that  the  Em- 
peror Diocletian,  after  the  conquest  of  the 
rebellious  Egyptians  in  the  year  296,  ordered 
that  all  the  writings  on  the  chemistry  of  gold 
and  silver  should  be  burned,  in  order  that  the 
common  people  might  not  grow  too  rich  by 
making  gold,  and  thus  be  enabled  to  again 
engage  in  rebellion. 

An  infatuated  lover  of  this  delusive  art  met 
with  one  who  pretended  to  have  the  power  of 
transmuting  lead  into  gold.  This  philosopher 
required  only  the  materials,  and  a  little  time,  to 
perform  his  golden  operations  ;  and  by  way  of 
parenthesis  it  ma}-  be  remarked  that  his  kind  are 
not  all  dead  yet.  He  was  taken  to  the  country 
residence  of  his  patroness.  A  large  laboratory- 
was  built,  and,  that  his  important  labors  might 
not  be  impeded  by  any  disturbance,  no  one  was 
allowed  to  enter.  His  door  was  contrived  to  turn 
on  a  pivot,  so  that,  unseen  and  unseeing,  his 
meals  were  conveyed  to  him,  without  distracting 
his  sublime  contemplations. 

During  two  years  he  never  condescended  to 
speak  to  his  patroness  except  in  two  or  three 
instances.  On  the  few  occasions  that  she  was 
admitted  to  the  laboratory,  she  saw,  with  pleas- 
ing astonishment,  stills,  immense  caldrons,  long 
flues,  and  three  or  four  vulcanious  fires  blazing 
at  different  corners  of  the  magical  mine  ;  nor  did 
she  behold  with  less  reverence  the  venerable 
figure  of  the  dusty  philosopher.  Pale  and  ema- 
ciated with  daily  operations  and  nightly  vigils, 
he  revealed  to  her,  in  unintelligible  jargon,  his 
progresses  ;  and  having  sometime  condescended 
to  explain  the  mysteries  of  the  arcana,  she  beheld, 


or  seemed  to  behold,  streams  of  fluid  and  heaps 
of  solid  ore,  scattered  around  the  laboratory. 
Sometimes  he  required  a  new  still,  and  sometimes 
vast  quantities  of  lead.  Ahead}-  this  unfortunate 
lady  had  expended  the  half  of  her  fortune  in 
supplying  the  demands  of  the  philosopher,  and 
she  now  began  to  lower  her  imagination  to  the 
standard  of  reason.  Two  years  had  elapsed, 
vast  quantities  of  lead  had  gone  in,  and  nothing 
but  lead  had  come  out.  She  disclosed  her  sen- 
timents to  the  philosopher.  He  candidly  con- 
fessed that  he  was  himself  surprised  at  his  tardy 
progress  ;  but  that  now  he  would  exert  himself 
to  the  utmost,  and  that  he  would  venture  to  per- 
form a  laborious  operation,  which  hitherto  he  had 
hoped  to  avoid  the  necessity  of  employing.  The 
lady  retired,  and  the  golden  visions  of  expectation 
resumed  all  their  lustre. 

One  day  as  she  and  her  family  sat  at  dinner,  a 
terrible  shriek,  and  one  explosion  after  another, 
loud  as  the  report  of  cannons,  assailed  their  ears. 
They  hastened  to  the  laboratory ;  two  of  the 
greatest  stills  had  burst,  and  one  part  of  the 
laboratory  and  the  house  were  in  flames.  We 
are  told  that  after  another  adventure  of  this  kind, 
this  victim  to  alchemy,  after  ruining  another 
patron,  in  despair  swallowed  poison. 

Even  more  recently  we  have  a  history  of  an 
alchemist  in  the  life  of  Romney,  the  painter. 
This  alchemist,  after  bestowing  much  time  and 
money  on  preparations  for  the  grand  projection, 
and  being  near  the  decisive  hour,  was  induced, 
by  the  too  earnest  request  of  his  wife,  to  quit  his 
furnace  one  evening,  to  attend  some  of  her  com- 
pany at  the  tea-table.  While  the  projector  was 
attending  the  ladies  his  furnace  blew  up  !  In 
consequence  of  this  event,  he  conceived  such  an 
antipathy  against  his  wife,  that  he  could  not 
endure  the  idea  of  living  with  her  again. 

Henry  VI.  of  England  was  so  reduced  by  his 
extravagances,  that  he  endeavored  to  recruit  his 
empty  coffers  by  alchemy.  The  record  of  this 
singular  proposition  contains  "The  most  solemn 
and  serious  account  of  the  feasibility  and  virtues 
of  the  philosopher's  stone,  encouraging  the  search 
after  it,  and  dispensing  with  all  statutes  and  pro- 
hibitions to  the  contrary." 

After  this  patent  was  published,  many  promised 
to  answer  the  king's  expectations  so  effectually 
that  the  next  year  he  published  another  patent ; 
wherein  he  tells  his  subjects,  that  the  happy  hour 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


135 


was  drawing  nigh,  and  by  means  of  the  stone, 
which  he  should  soon  be  master  of,  he  would  pay 
all  the  debts  of  the  nation  in  real  gold  and  silver. 
The  persons  picked  out  for  his  new  operators  were 
as  remarkable  as  the  patient  itself,  being  a  most 
"  miscellaneous  rabble  "  of  friars,  grocers,  mercers 
and  fishmongers  ! 

Alchemists  were  formerly  called  multipliers,  as 
appears  from  a  statute  of  Henry  IV.,  repealed  in 
the  preceding   record.       The   statute    being   ex- 


to  alchemy  :  ' '  The  ancient  books  of  alchemy,  so 
liberally  ascribed  to  Pythagoras,  to  Solomon,  or 
to  Hermes,  were  the  pious  frauds  of  more  recent 
adepts.  The  Greeks  were  inattentive  either  to 
the  use  or  the  abuse  of  chemistry.  In  that  im- 
mense register,  where  Pliny  has  deposited  the 
discoveries,  the  arts,  and  the  errors  of  mankind, 
there  is  not  the  least  mention  of  the  transmu- 
tations of  metals  ;  and  the  persecution  of  Diocle- 
tian is  the  first  authentic  event  in  the  history  of 


THE    ALCHEMIST'S    WORKSHOP. 


tremely  short,  we  give  it  for  the  reader's  satis- 
faction : 

"None  from  henceforth  shall  use  to  multiply 
gold  or  silver,  or  use  the  craft  of  multiplication  : 
and  if  any  the  same  do,  he  shall  incur  the  pain 
of  felony." 

Caesar  commanded  the  treatises  of  alchemy  to 
be  burnt  throughout  the  Roman  dominions  : 
Caesar,  who  is  not  less  to  be  admired  as  a  philo- 
sopher than  as  a  monarch. 

Mr.  Gibbon  has  this  succinct  passage  relative 


alchemy.  The  conquest  of  Egypt  by  the  Arabs 
diffused  that  vain  science  over  the  globe.  Con- 
genial to  the  avarice  of  the  human  heart,  it  was 
studied  in  China,  as  in  Europe,  with  equal  eager- 
ness and  equal  success.  The  darkness  of  the 
Middle  Ages  ensued  a  favorable  reception  to 
every  tale  of  wonder  ;  and  the  revival  of  learning 
gave  new  vigor  to  hope,  and  suggested  more 
specious  arts  to  deception.  Philosophy,  with  the 
aid  of  experience,  has  at  length  banished  the 
study  of  alchemy  ;  and  the  present  age,  however 


136 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


desirous  of  riches,  is  content  to  seek  them  by  the 
means  of  commerce  and  industry." 

Modern  chemistry  is  not  without  a  hope  of  veri- 
fying the  golden  visions  of  the  alchemist.  Dr. 
Girianger,  of  Gottingeu,  has  adventured  the  fol- 
lowing prophecy  :  "In  the  nineteenth  century  the 
transmutation  of  metals  will  be  generally  known 
and  practised.  Even-  chemist  and  even'  artist 
will  make  gold  :  kitchen  utensils  will  be  of  silver, 
and  even  of  gold,  which  will  contribute  more 
than  anything  else  to  prolong  life,  poisoned  at 
present  by  the  oxides  of  copper,  lead,  and  iron, 
which  we  daily  swallow  with  our  food."  This 
sublime  chemist,  though  he  does  not  venture  to 
predict  that  universal  elixir,  which  is  to  prolong 
life  at  pleasure,  yet  approximates  to  it.  A 
chemical  gentleman  writes  that  "The  metals 
seem  to  be  composite  bodies,  which  nature  is  per- 
petually preparing  :  and  it  may  be  reserved  for 
the  future  researches  of  science  to  trace,  and  per- 
haps to  imitate,  some  of  these  curious  operations. 


CURIOSITIES  OF    THE   LITERATURE  OF    THE 
REFORMATION. 

IT  is  a  difficult  matter,  in  this  modern  era  of 
good  feeling  between  the  various  Christian 
denominations,  to  understand  and  appreciate  the 
personal  bitterness  that  existed  among  the  leaders 
of  what  is  known  in  history  as  the  Reformation. 

Those  giants  in  the  arena  of  religious  contro- 
versy were  more  careful  about  making  them- 
selves understood  by  the  people  for  whom  they 
wrote,  and  to  whom  they  spoke,  than  choice  in 
their  modes  of  expression.  Both  sides  indulged 
in  the  bitterest  invectives  and  the  most  scathing 
anathemas.  Luther  refers  to  the  Pope  in  lan- 
guage so  vigorous  that  polite  usage  will  not  ad- 
mit of  its  reproduction.  In  one  instance  he  calls 
him  "the  governor  of  Sodom,"  and  adds:  "If 
the  Turks  lay  hold  of  us,  then  we  shall  be  in  the 
hands  of  the  devil ;  but  if  we  remain  with  the  pope, 
we  shall  be  in  hell.  What  a  pleasing  sight  would 
it  be  to  see  the  pope  and  the  cardinals  hanging  on 
one  gallows,  in  exact  order,  like  the  seals  which 
dangle  from  the  bulls  of  the  pope  !  What  an 
excellent  council  would  they  hold  under  the 
gallows  ! ' ' 

Again  he  exclaims:  "Take  care,  my  little 
pope  !  my  little  ass  !  go  on  slowly  :  if  thoufallest, 
they  will  exclaim,  'See!  how  our  little  pope  is 
spoilt.'  "    It  was  fortunate  for  the  cause  of  the  Re- 


formation that  the  violence  of  Luther  was  soft- 
ened to  a  considerable  degree  at  times  by  the  meek 
Melanchthon  :  he  often  poured  honey  on  the  sting 
inflicted  by  the  angry  bee.  Luther  was  no  re- 
specter of  kings  ;  he  was  so  fortunate,  indeed,  as 
to  find  among  his  antagonists  a  crowned  head  ;  a 
great  good  fortune  for  an  obscure  controversialist, 
and  the  very  punctum  salicns  of  controversy. 
Henry  VIII.,  of  England,  wrote  his  book  against 
the  new  doctrine  ;  then  warm  from  scholastic 
studies,  Henry  presented  Leo  X.  with  a  work 
highly  creditable  to  his  abilities,  and  no  inferior 
performance  according  to  the  genius  of  the  age. 
Collier,  in  his  Ecclesiastical  History,  has  ana- 
lyzed the  book,  and  does  not  ill  describe  its  spirit : 
"  Henry  seems  superior  to  his  adversary  in  the 
vigor  and  propriety-  of  his  style,  in  the  force  of 
his  reasoning,  and  the  learning  of  his  citations. 
It  is  true  he  leans  too  much  upon  his  character, 
argues  in  his  garter-robes,  and  writes  as  it  were 
with  his  sceptre."  But  Luther,  in  reply,  abandons 
his  pen  to  all  kinds  of  railing  abuse.  He  ad- 
dresses Henry  in  the  following  style  :  "  It  is  hard 
to  say  if  folly  can  be  more  foolish,  or  stupidity 
more  stupid,  than  is  the  head  of  Henry.  He  has 
not  attacked  me  with  the  heart  of  a  king,  but 
with  the  impudence  of  a  knave.  This  rotten 
worm  of  the  earth  having  blasphemed  the  ma- 
jesty of  my  king,  I  have  a  just  right  to  bespatter 
his  English  majesty  with  his  own  dirt  and  ordure. 
This  Henry  has  lied." 

Calvin  was  even  less  tolerable  than  Luther,  for 
he  had  no  Melanchthon  !  His  adversaries  are  stig- 
matized as  knaves,  lunatics,  drunkards,  and  assas- 
sins !  Sometimes  they  are  characterized  by  the 
familiar  appellatives  of  bulls,  asses,  cats  and  hogs  ! 
By  him  Catholic  and  Lutheran  are  alike  hated. 
Yet,  after  having  given  vent  to  this  virulent 
homor,  he  frequently  boasts  of  his  mildness. 
When  he  reads  over  his  writings,  he  tells  us,  that 
he  is  astonished  at  his  forbearance  ;  but  this,  he 
adds,  is  the  duty  of  every  Christian  !  at  the  same 
time,  he  generally  finishes  a  period  with— "  Do 
you  hear,  you  dog?     Do  you  hear,  madman?" 

Beza,  the  disciple  of  Calvin,  sometimes  imitates 
the  luxuriant  abuse  of  his  master.  When  he 
writes  against  Tillemau,  a  Lutheran  minister,  he 
bestows  on  him  the  following  titles  of  honor : 
' '  Polyphemus  ;  an  ape  ;  a  great  ass  who  is  distin- 
guished from  other  asses  by  wearing  a  hat ;  an 
ass  on  two  feet ;  a  monster  composed  of  part  of 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


137 


an  ape  and  wild  ass  ;  a  villain  who  merits  hang- 
ing on  the  first  tree  we  find. ' '  And  Beza  was,  no 
doubt  desirous  of  the  office  of  executioner  ! 

Bishop  Bedell,  a  great  and  good  man,  respected 
even  by  his  adversaries,  in  an  address  to  his 
clergy,  observes  :  "Our  calling  is  to  deal  with 
errors,  not  to  disgrace  the  man  with  scolding 
words.  It  is  said  of  Alexander,  I  think,  when 
he  overheard  one  of  his  soldiers  railing  lustily 
against  Darius  his  enemy,  that  he  reproved  him, 
and  added,  '  Friend,  I  entertain  thee  to  fight 
against  Darius,  not  to  revile  him  ; '  and  my  senti- 
ments of  treating  the  Catholics, ' '  concludes  Bedell, 


drunkard,  had  not  her  maid  timely  and  outrage- 
ously abused  her.  The  story  will  amuse. — "My 
mother  had  by  little  and  little  accustomed  herself 
to  relish  wine.  The}-  used  to  send  her  to  the 
cellar,  as  being  one  of  the  soberest  in  the  family  ; 
she  first  sipped  from  the  jug  and  tasted  a  few 
drops,  for  she  abhorred  wine,  and  did  not  care  to 
drink.  However,  she  gradually  accustomed  her- 
self, and  from  sipping  it  on  her  lips  she  swallowed 
a  draught.  As  people  from  the  smallest  faults 
insensibly  increase,  she  at  length  liked  wine,  and 
drank  bumpers.  But  one  day  being  alone  with 
her  maid,  who  usually  attended  her  to  the  cellar, 


DANTE'S  DREAM  OF  HEAVEN. 


"are  not  comfonnable  to  the  practice  of  Duther 
and  Calvin  ;  but  they  were  but  men,  and  perhaps 
we  must  confess  they  suffered  themselves  to  yield 
to  the  violence  of  passion." 

The  Fathers  of  the  church  were  proficients  in 
the  art  of  abuse,  and  very  ingeniously  defended 
it.  St.  Austin  affirms  that  the  keenest  personality 
may  produce  a  wonderful  effect,  in  opening  a 
man's  eyes  to  his  own  follies.  He  illustrates  his 
position  with  a  story,  given  with  great  simplicity, 
of  his  mother,  Saint  Monica,  with  her  maid.  Saint 
Monica  certainly  would   have  been  a  confirmed 


they  quarrelled,  and  the  maid  bitterly  reproached 
her  with  being  a  drunkard  !  That  single  word 
struck  her  so  poignantly  that  it  opened  her  under- 
standing ;  and  reflecting  on  the  deformity  of  the 
vice,  she  desisted  forever  from  its  use." 


CELEBRATED  HISTORICAL   LITERARY 
BLUNDERS. 

7TTHEX  Dante  first  published  his  Inferno,  the 
\X3  simple  and  superstitious  of  the  age  ac- 
cepted it  as  a  true  narrative  of  the  author's  de- 
scent into  hell. 


138 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


For  years  after  the  publication  of  Gulliver's 
Travels,  many  readers  could  not  be  convinced 
that  the  imaginary  voyages  and  discoveries 
therein  recorded  were  not  real. 

Utopia,  by  Sir  Thomas  More,  as  every  well- 
read  person  knows,  is  an  imaginary  description  of 


CHARLES   II.,    "THE   MOST   RELIGIOUS    KING,"    AND   HIS    FRIENDS. 


a  perfect  but  visionary  republic,  in  an  island  sup- 
posed to  have  been  newly-discovered  in  America  ; 
but  it  was  accepted,  at  the  time  of  its  publication, 
by  many  persons,  and  by  at  least  one  historian, 
as  a  true  account  of  a  "Teat  discoverv.      "As  this 


was  an  age  of  discovery,"  says  Granger,  "the 
learned  Budfeus,  and  others,  took  it  for  a  genuine 
history  ;  and  considered  it  highly  expedient  that 
missionaries  should  be  sent  thither  to  convert  so 
wise  a  nation  to  Christianity." 

One  of  the  most  singular  blunders  was  pro- 
duced by  the  in- 
genious Hermip- 
pus  Redivivus  of 
Dr.  Campbell,  a 
curious  banter  of 
the  hermetic  phil- 
osophy and  uni- 
versal medicine  ; 
but  the  grave 
irony  is  so  closely 
kept  up  through- 
out this  admir- 
able treatise,  that 
it  deceived  for  a 
length  of  time 
the  most  learned 
people  of  that 
day.  His  notions 
of  the  art  of  pro- 
longing life  by 
inhaling  the 
breath  of  young 
women,  was 
eagerly  credited. 
A  learned  phy- 
sician, who  was 
also  an  author 
of  one  or  more 
medical  works, 
was  so  impressed 
by  it  that  he  ac- 
tually took  lodg- 
ings in  a  female 
boarding  school, 
in  order  that  he 
might  never  be 
without  a  con- 
stant supply  of 
the  breath  of 
young  ladies.  A 
number  of  other  learned  men  of  that  date  were 
greatly  influenced  by  the  subtle  reasoning  of  the 
work,  which  exercised  so  powerful  an  influence 
as  to  temporarily  unsettle  their  minds,  at  least  in 
that  particular. 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


139 


Sir  John  Pringle  mentions  his  having  cured  a 
soldier  by  the  use  of  two  quarts  of  Dog  and  Duck 
water  daily  ;  a  French  translator  specifies  it  as  an 
excellent  broth  made  of  a  cluck  and  a  dog  !  In  a 
catalogue  compiled  by  a  French  writer  of  Works 
on  Natural  History,  he  inserted  the  well-known 
"Essay  on  Irish  Bulls"  by  the  Edgeworths. 
This  is  the  only  instance  on  record  where  an  Irish 
bull  has  been  classed  under  the  head  of  Natural 
History. 

A  remarkable  blunder  was  committed  by  the 
Abbe  Gregoire ;  who  affords  another  striking 
proof  of  the  errors  to  which  foreigners  are  liable 
when  they  decide  on  the  language  and  customs  of 
another  country.  The  abbe,  in  the  excess  of  his 
philanthropy,  to  show  to  what  dishonorable 
offices  human  nature  is  degraded,  states  that  at 
London  he  observed  a  sign-board  proclaiming  the 
master  as  tuer  des  punaises  de  sa  majcst'c  !  Bug- 
destroyer  to  his  majesty  !  The  idea  which  must 
have  occurred  to  the  good  abbe  was,  that  his 
majesty's  bugs  were  hunted  and  taken  by  hand— 
and  thus  human  nature  was  degraded. 

In  Charles  II. 's  reign  a  new  collect  was  drawn, 
in  which  a  new  epithet  was  added  to  the  king's 
title,  that  gave,  says  Burnet,  great  offence,  and 
occasioned  great  raillery.  He  was  styled  our  most 
religious  king.  Whatever  the  signification  of  re- 
ligious might  be  in  the  Latin  word  as  importing 
the  sacredness  of  the  king's  person,  yet  in  the 
English  language  it  bore  a  signification  that  was  no 
way  applicable  to  King  Charles,  who  was  every- 
thing else  except  religious,  most  of  his  life  being 
spent  in  wild  orgies  and  extravagant  dissipations. 

A  literary  blunder  of  Thomas  Wharton  is  a 
specimen  of  the  manner  in  which  a  man  of  genius 
may  continue  to  blunder  with  infinite  ingenuity. 
In  an  old  romance  he  finds  these  lines,  describing 
the  duel  of  Saladin  with  Richard  Cceur  de  Lion  : 

A  Faucon  brode  in  hande  he  bare, 
For  he  thought  he  wolde  there 
Have  slayne  Richard. 

He  imagines  this  Faucon  brode  means  a  falcon 
bird,  or  a  hawk,  and  that  Saladin  is  represented 
with  this  bird  on  his  fist  to  express  his  contempt 
of  his  adversary.  He  supports  his  conjecture  by 
noticing  a  Gothic  picture,  supposed  to  be  the  sub- 
ject of  this  duel,  and  also  some  old  tapestry  of 
heroes  on  horseback  with  hawks  on  their  fists  ;  he 
plunges  into    feudal   times  where  no  gentleman 


appeared  on  horseback  without  his  hawk.  After 
all  this  curious  erudition,  the  rough  but  skilful 
Ritson  inhumanly  triumphed  by  dissolving  the 
magical  fancies  of  the  more  elegant  Wharton,  by 
explaining  a  Faucon  brode  to  be  nothing  more  than 
a  broad  faulchion,  which  was  certainly  more  useful 
than  a  bird  in  a  duel. 


CELEBRATED  MEN  WHO  HAD   TERMAGANTS 
FOR  WIVES. 

(T IR  THOMAS  MORE  was  united  to  a  woman 
vP  of  the  harshest  temper  and  the  most  sordid 
manners.  To  soften  the  moroseness  of  her  dispo- 
sition, "he  persuaded  her  to  play  on  the  lute,  viol, 
and  other  instruments,  every  day."  Whether  it 
was  that  she  had  no  ear  for  music,  she  herself 
never  became  harmonious  as  the  instrument  she 
touched.  All  these  ladies  may  be  considered  as 
rather  too  alert  in  thought,  and  too  spirited  in 
action  ;  but  a  tame  cuckoo  bird  who  is  always  re- 
peating the  same  tone,  must  be  very  fatiguing. 
The  wife  of  Samuel  Clarke,  the  great  compiler 
of  books  in  1680,  whose  name  was  anagrammatized 
to  "suck  all  cream,'"  alluding  to  his  indefatigable 
labors  in  sucking  all  the  cream  of  every  author 
without  having  any  cream  himself,  is  described 
by  her  husband  as  having  the  most  sublime  con- 
ceptions of  his  illustrious  compilations.  This 
appears  by  her  behavior.  He  says,  "that  she 
never  rose  from  table  without  making  him  a 
courtesy,  nor  drank  to  him  without  bowing,  and 
that  his  word  was  a  law  to  her. ' '  How  happy 
most  men  would  be  if  their  wives  would  treat 
them  with  such  deference. 

In  1590  the  Bishop  of  Litchfield  and  Coventry, 
writing  to  the  earl  of  Shrewsbury  (a  very  appro- 
priate name  under  the  circumstances)  on  the  sub- 
ject of  living  separate  from  his  countess,  uses  the 
following  curious  argument  in  favor  of  their 
union,  which  seems  to  imply  a  singular  state  of 
morals  and  religion  in  the  British  isles  at  that 
time  : 

"  But  some  will  say  in  your  Lordship's  behalfe 
that  the  Countesse  is  a  sharp  and  bitter  shrewe, 
and  therefore  lieke  enough  to  shorten  your  lief, 
if  shee  should  kepe  yow  company.  Indeede,  my 
good  Lord,  I  have  heard  some  say  so ;  but  if 
shrewdnesse  or  sharpnesse  may  be  a  just  cause 
of  separation  between  a  man  and  wiefe,  I  thinck 
fewe  men  in  Englande  would  keepe  their  wives 
longe  ;  for  it  is  a  common  jeste,  yet  trewe  in  some 


140 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


sense,  that  there  is  but  one  shrewe  in  all  the 
worlde,  and  everee  man  hath  her :  and  so  everee 
man  must  be  ridd  of  his  wiefe  that  would  be  ridd 
of  a  shrewe." 

The  wife  of  Barclay,  author  of  "The  Argenis," 
considered  herself  as  the  wife  of  a  demigod.  This 
appeared  glaringly  after  his  death  :  for  Cardinal 
Barberiui  having  erected  a  monument  to  the 
memory  of  his  tutor,  next  to  the  tomb  of  Bar- 
clay, Mrs.  Barclay  was  so  irritated  at  this  that 
she  demolished  his  monument,  brought  home  his 
bust,  and  declared  that  the  ashes  of  so  great  a 
genius  as  her  husband  should  never  be  placed  be- 
side so  villainous  a  pedagogue. 

Salmasius's  wife  was  a  termagant ;  and  Chris- 
tiana said  she  admired  his  patience  more  than  his 
erudition,  married  to  such  a  shrew.  Mrs.  Salma- 
sius  indeed  considered  herself  as  the  queen  of 
science,  because  her  husband  was  acknowledged 
as  a  sovereign  among  the  critics.  She  boasted  she 
had  for  her  husband  the  most  learned  of  all  the 
nobles,  and  the  most  noble  of  all  the  learned. 
Our  good  lad}-  always  joined  the  learned  confer- 
ences which  he  held  in  his  study.  She  spoke 
loud,  and  decided  with  a  tone  of  majesty.  Sal- 
masius  was  mild  in  conversation,  but  the  reverse 
in  his  writings,  for  our  proud  Xanthippe  consid- 
ered him  as  acting  beneath  himself  if  he  did  not 
majestically  call  even-  one  names  ! 

The  wife  of  Rohault,  when  her  husband  gave 
lectures  on  the  philosophy  of  Descartes,  used  to 
seat  herself  on  these  days  at  the  door,  and  refused 
admittance  to  even-  one  shabbily  dressed,  or  who 
did  not  discover  a  genteel  air.  So  convinced  was 
she  that,  to  be  worthy  of  hearing  the  lectures  of 
her  husband  it  was  proper  to  appear  fashionable. 
In  vain  our  good  lecturer  exhausted  himself  in 
telling  her  that  fortune  does  not  always  give  fine 
clothes  to  philosophers. 

The  wives  of  Albert  Durer  and  Berghem  were 
both  shrews.  The  wife  of  Durer  compelled  that 
great  genius  to  do  the  hourly  drudgery  of  his 
profession,  merely  to  gratify  her  own  sordid  pas- 
sion :  in  despair,  Albert  ran  away  from  his  Tisi- 
phone  ;  she  wheedled  him  back,  and  not  long 
afterwards  this  great  artist  fell  a  victim  to  her 
furious  disposition.  Berghem's  wife  would  never 
allow  that  excellent  artist  to  quit  his  occupations  : 
and  she  contrived  an  odd  expedient  to  detect  his 
indolence.  The  artist  worked  in  a  room  above 
her ;  ever  and  anon  she  roused  him  by  thump- 


ing a  long  stick  against  the  ceiling,  while  the 
obedient  Berghem  answered  by  stamping  his  foot, 
to  satisfy  Mrs.  Berghem  that  he  was  not  napping. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  in  this  connection  to 
mention  Xanthippe,  the  wife  of  Socrates,  whose 
name  and  fame  are  familiar  to  all.  There  is  a 
lingering  suspicion  in  our  minds  that  perhaps 
the  old  philosopher  deserved  a  good  part  of  the 
discipline  that  his  wife  bestowed  upon  him,  and 
that  perhaps  he  used  his  advantages  as  philoso- 
pher and  historian  to  represent  the  old  lady's 
temper  in  warmer  tints  than  it  really  deserved. 
At  any  rate,  Xanthippe  has  not  been  heard  from. 

There  is  an  account  of  a  distinguished  modern 
lecturer  who  evidently  was  fully  as  deserving  of 
public  sympathy,  on  account  of  his  wife's  temper, 
as  Socrates.  Among  other  exploits  that  have 
been  related  of  this  lady,  it  is  said  that,  on  a 
certain  occasion,  she  came  suddenly  and  furiously 
into  a  public  hall  where  her  husband  was  lectur- 
ing, and  seizing  his  charts  and  other  apparatus, 
tore  them  to  pieces  in  the  presence  of  the  audience. 
The  lecturer  apologized  by  quietly  remarking  : 
"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  have  the  misfortune  to 
be  the  husband  of  this  woman." 

The  sentiments  of  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  on  the 
consequences  of  marriage,  are  very  curious,  in  the 
second  part  of  his  Religio  Medici,  Sect.  9.  When 
he  wrote  that  work,  he  said,  ' '  I  was  never  yet 
once,  and  commend  their  resolutions,  who  never 
marry  twice."  He  calls  woman  "the  rib,  and 
crooked  piece  of  man."  He  adds,  "I  could  be 
content  that  wTe  might  procreate  like  trees,  with- 
out conjunction,  or  that  there  were  any  way  to 
procreate  the  world  without  this  trivial  and  vul- 
gar way."  He  means  the  union  of  sexes,  which 
he  declares  ' '  is  the  foolishest  act  a  wise  man  com- 
mits in  all  his  life,  nor  is  there  anything  that  will 
more  deject  his  cooled  imagination,  when  he  shall 
consider  what  an  odd  and  unworthy  piece  of  folly 
he  hath  committed."  He  afterwards  declares  he 
is  not  averse  to  that  sweet  sex,  but  naturally 
amorous  of  all  that  is  beautiful;  "I  could  look 
a  whole  day  with  delight  upon  a  handsome  picture, 
though  it  be  but  of  a  horse."  He  afterwards 
disserts  very  profoundly  on  the  music  there'is  in 
beaut}-,  "  and  the  silent  note  that  Cupid  strikes  is 
far  sweeter  than  the  sound  of  an  instrument." 
Such  were  his  sentiments  when  youthful,  and 
residing  at  Ley  den  :  Dutch  philosophy  had  at 
first  chilled  his  passion  ;  it  is  probable  that  pas- 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


141 


sion  afterwards  inflamed  his  philosophy — for  he 
married  and  had  four  daughters  ! 

In  some  one  of  Bayle's  writings  there  is  a 
philosophical  disquisition  on  the  subject  of  mar- 
riage, brought  about  by  the  death  of  a  learned 
friend  of  the  philosopher,  who,  having  lost  his 
wife,  whom  he  dearly  loved,  spent  three  years  in 
seclusion,  and  then  died  of  grief.  "  What,  there- 
fore," remarks  the  philosopher,  "must  we  think 
of  an  unhappy  marriage,  since  a  happy  one  is 
exposed  to  such  evils. ' '  He  then  shows  that  an 
unhappy  marriage  is  attended  by  beneficial  con- 
sequences to  the  survivor.  In  this  dilemma,  in 
the  one  case,  the  husband  lives  afraid  his  wife 
will  die,  in  the  other  that  she  will  not !  If  you 
love  her,  you  will  always  be  afraid  of  losing  her  ; 
if  you  do  not  love  her,  you  will  always  be  afraid 
of  not  losing  her. ' ' 


AN  ORIGINAL  LETTER  FROM  QUEEN  ELIZA- 
BETH. 

IN  the  Cottonian  Library,  Vespasian  F.  III.,  is 
preserved  a  letter  written  by  Queen  Elizabeth 
(then  Princess)  to  her  sister  Queen  Mary.  It  ap- 
pears by  this  epistle,  that  Mary  had  desired  to 
have  her  picture  ;  and  in  gratifying  the  wishes  of 
her  majesty,  Elizabeth  accompanies  the  present 
with  the  following  elaborate  letter.  It  bears  no 
date  of  the  year  in  which  it  was  written  ;  but  her 
place  of  residence  is  marked  to  be  at  Hatfield. 
There  she  had  retired  to  enjoy  the  silent  pleasures 
of  a  studious  life,  and  to  be  distant  from  the  dan- 
gerous politics  of  the  time.  When  Mary  died 
Elizabeth  was  at  Hatfield  ;  the  letter  must  have 
been  written  before  this  circumstance  took  place. 
She  was  at  the  time  of  its  composition  in  habitual 
intercourse  with  the  most  excellent  writers  of  an- 
tiquity ;  her  letter  displays  this  in  every  part  of 
it ;  it  is  polished  and  repolished.  It  has  also  the 
merit  of  now  being  first  published. 

The  Letter. 
Like  as  the  riche  man  that  dayly  gathereth 
riches  to  riches,  and  to  one  bag  of  money  layeth 
a  greate  store  til  it  come  to  infinit,  so  me  thinkes, 
your  Maiestie  not  beinge  suffised  with  many  ben- 
efits and  gentilnes  shewed  to  me  afore  this  time, 
dothe  now  increase  them  in  askinge  and  desiring 
wher  you  may  bid  and  commaunde,  requiring  a 
thinge  not  worthy  the  desiringe  for  it  selfe,  but 
made  worthy  for  your  highness  request.  My 
pictur  I  mene,  in  wiche  if  the  inward  good  mynde 


towarde  your  grace  might  as  wel  be  declared  as 
the  outwarde  face  and  countenance  shal  be  seen, 
I  wold  not  haue  taried  the  comandement  but  pre- 
vent it,  nor  haue  bine  the  last  to  graunt  but  the 
first  to  offer  it.  For  the  face,  I  graunt,  I  mite 
wel  blusche  to  offer,  but  the  mynde  I  shal  neuer  be 
ashamed  to  present.  For  thogh  from  the  grace 
of  the  pictur,  the  coulers  may  fade  by  time,  may 
giue  by  wether,  may  be  spotted  by  chance,  yet 
the  other  nor  time  with  her  swift  wings  shall 
ouertake,  nor  the  mistie  clouds  with  their  lower- 
ings  may  darken,  nor  chance  with  her  slipery  fote 
may  overthrow.  Of  this  althogh  yet  the  profe  could 
not  be  greate  because  the  occasions  hathe  bine  but 
smal,  so  may  I  perchaunce  have  time  to  declare  it. 
in  dides  wher  now  I  do  write  them  but  in  wordes. 
And  further  I  shall  most  humbly  beseche  your 
Maiestie  that  whan  you  shal  loke  on  my  pictur 
you  will  witsafe  to  thinke  that  as  you  have  but 
the  outwarde  shadow  of  the  body  afore  you,  so 
my  inward  minde  wischeth,  that  the  body  itselfe 
wer  oftener  in  your  presence ;  howbeit,  bicause 
bothe  my  so  beinge  I  thinke  coulde  do  your  Ma- 
iestie litel  pleasure  thogh  my  selfe  great  good,  and 
againe  bicause  I  se  as  yet  not  the  time  agreing 
therento,  I  shal  learne  to  folow  this  Sainge  of 
Grace,  Fcras  non  culpes  quod  vitari  71011  potest. 
And  thus  I  wil  (trobling  your  maiestie  I  fere) 
ende  with  my  most  humble  thankes,  beseching 
God  longe  to  preserve  you  to  his  honour,  to  your 
comfort,  to  the  realmes  profit,  and  to  my  joy. 
From  Hatfield  this  1st  day  of  May,  your  Majes- 
tie's  most  humble  Sistar  and  sen-ante, 

"Elizabeth." 


EXECUTION  OF  ANNE  BOLEYN. 

ANNE  BOLEYN,  wife  of  Henry  VIII.,  and 
mother  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  is  represented 
as  having  been  a  beautiful  and  charming  woman. 
To  the  very  last  she  vehemently  denied  the  charge 
of  incontinence  upon  which  she  was  convicted  and 
brought  to  the  scaffold  ;  whether  that  charge  was 
true  or  false,  her  death  and  the  manner  in  which 
it  was  brought  about  will  always  remain  as  a 
dark  and  cruel  stain  upon  the  record  of  the  royal 
animal  whose  wife  she  had  the  misfortune  to  be. 
Her  executioner  was  a  Frenchman  of  Calais, 
who  was  supposed  to  have  uncommon  skill. 
Anne  refused  to  have  her  eyes  covered  with  a  ban- 
dage, saying  that  she  had  no  fear  of  death.  All 
that  the  minister  who  officiated  at  the  execution 


142 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


could  obtain  from  her  was,  that  when  the  blow- 
was  to  be  delivered  she  would  shut  her  eves.     But 


ANNE   BOLEVN   IN   LONDON". 


as  she  was  opening  thein  every  moment,  the  exe- 
cutioner could  not  bear    their  mild    and    tender 


glances,  and  fearful  of  missing  his  aim,  he  was 
obliged  to  invent    an  expedient   to   behead    the 

queen.  He  drew 
off  his  shoes  and 
approached  her 
silently  at  her 
left  hand,  while 
another  person 
advanced  at  her 
right  who  made 
a  great  noise  in 
walking.  This 
latter  circum- 
stance drew  her 
attention,  and 
the  executioner 
was  enabled  to 
strike  the  fatal 
blow  without  be- 
ing disarmed  by 
that  spirit  of  ten- 
d  e  r  resignation 
that  shone  from 
the  eyes  of  the 
lovely  Anne  Bo- 
leyn. 

The  death  and 
the  virtues  of 
Anne  Boleyn  are 
thus  described  by 
John  Fox,  an  his- 
torian of  those 
times  : 

"In  certain 
records  thus  we 
find,  that  the 
king  being  in 
his  justs  at 
Greenwich,  sud- 
denly, with  a  few 
persons,  depart- 
ed to  Westmin- 
ster, and  the  next 
day  after  Queen 
Anne,  his  wife, 
was  had  to  the 
Tower,  with  the 
Lord  Rochford, 
her  brother,  and 
certain  other ;  and  the  nineteenth  day  after 
was  beheaded.     The  words  of    this  worthy  and 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


143 


Christian  lady  at  her  death  were  these  :  '  Good 
Christian  people,  I  am  come  hither  to  die  ;  for,  ac- 
cording to  the  law,  and  by  the  law,  I  am  judged  to 
death,  and  therefore  I  will  speak  nothing  against  it. 
I  am  come  hither  to  accuse  no  man,  nor  to  speak 
anything  of  that  whereof  I  am  accused  and  con- 


quire  them  to  judge  the  best.  And  thus  I  take 
my  leave  of  the  world,  and  of  j  ou  all,  and  I 
heartily  desire  you  all  to  pray  for  me.  The  Lord 
have  mercy  on  me ;  to  God  I  recommend  my  soul.' 
And  so  she  kneeled  down,  saying,  '  To  Christ  I 
commend  my  soul ;  Jesus,  receive  my  soul ; '  re- 


THE  HOUR  OF   EXECUTION. 


demned  to  die  ;  but  I  pray  God  save  the  king,  and 
send  him  long  to  reign  over  you,  for  a  gentler,  or 
a  more  merciful  prince  was  there  never ;  and  to  me 
he  was  a  very  good,  a  gentle,  and  a  sovereign  lord. 
And  if  any  person  will  meddle  of  my  cause,  I  re- 


peating the  same  divers  times,  till  at  length  the 
stroke  was  given,  and  her  head  was  stricken  off. 

' '  And  this  was  the  end  of  that  godly  lady  and 
queen.  Godlylcall  her,  for  sundry  respects,  whatso- 
ever the  cause  was,  or  quarrel  objected  against  her. 


14, 


THE  WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


First,  her  last  words  spoken  at  her  death  declared 
no  less,  her  sincere  faith  and  trust  in  Christ,  than 
did  her  quiet  modesty  utter  forth  the  goodness 
of  the  cause  and  matter,  whatsoever  it  was.  Be- 
sides that,  to  such  as  wisely  can  judge  upon  cases 
occurrent,  this  also  rnay  seem  to  give  a  great  clear- 
ing unto  her,  that  the  king,  the  third  day  after, 
was  married  in  his  whites  unto  another.  Certain 
this  was,  that  for  the  rare  and  singular  gifts  of  her 
mind,  so  well  instructed,  and  given  toward  God,  with 
such  a  fervent  desire  unto  the  truth,  and  setting 
forth  of  sincere  religion,  joined  with  like  gentleness, 
modesty  and  pit}-  toward  all  men,  there  have  not 
many  such  queens  before  her  borne  the  crown  of 
England.  Principally,  this  one  commendation  she 
left  behind  her,  that  during  her  life,  the  religion  of 
Christ  most  happily  flourished,  and  had  a  right 
prosperous  course. 

"Many  things  might  be  written  more  of  the 
manifold  virtues,  and  the  quiet  moderation  of  her 
mild  nature  ;  how  lowly  she  would  bear,  not  only 
to  be  admonished,  but  also  of  her  own  accord, 
would  require  her  chaplains,  plainly  and  freely  to 
tell  whatsoever  they  saw  in  her  amiss.  Also,  how 
bountiful  she  was  to  the  poor,  passing  not  only  the 
poor  example  of  other  queens,  but  also  the  re- 
venues almost  of  her  estate  ;  insomuch,  that  the 
alms  which  she  gave  in  three-quarters  of  a  year, 
in  distribution,  is  summed  to  the  number  of  four- 
teen thousand  pounds  ;  besides  the  great  piece  of 
money,  which  her  Grace  intended  to  impart  into 
four  sundry  quarters  of  the  realm,  as  for  a  stock, 
there  to  be  employed  to  the  behoof  of  poor  artifi- 
cers and  occupiers.  Again,  what  a  zealous  de- 
fender she  wasof  Christ's  gospel,  all  the  world  doth 
know,  and  her  acts  do  and  will  declare  to  the 
world's  end.  Amongst  which  other  her  acts,  this 
is  one,  that  she  placed  Master  Hugh  Latimer  in 
the  bishopric  of  Worcester,  and  his  preferred 
Doctor  Sharton  to  his  bishopric,  being  then  ac- 
counted a  good  man.  Furthermore,  what  a  true 
faith  she  bore  unto  the  Lord,  this  one  example 
may  stand  for  many  ;  for  that  when  King  Henry 
was  with  her  at  Woodstock,  and  there  being  afraid  of 
an  old  bknd  prophecy,  for  the  which,  neither  he  nor 
other  kings  before  him,  durst  hunt  in  the  said  park 
of  Woodstock,  nor  enter  into  the  town  of  Oxford,  at 
last,  through  the  Christian,  and  faithful  counsel  of 
that  queen  he  was  so  armed  against  all  infidelity, 
that  both  he  hunted  in  the  foresaid  park,  and  also 
entered  into  the  town  of  Oxford,  and  had  no  harm. 


But,  because  touching  the  memorable  virtues  of 
this  worth}-  queen,  partly  we  have  said  something 
before,  partly  because  more  also  is  promised  to  be 
declared  of  her  virtuous  life  (the  Lord  so  permit- 
ting), by  other  who  then  were  about  her,  I  will 
cease  in  this  matter  further  to  proceed." 

LEGENDS    OF    ST.    FRANCIS. 

A  good  idea  of  the  kind  of  history  that  was 
written  in  the  fifteenth  century  may  be 
obtained  by  reading  the  following  sketch.  It  is 
from  the  works  of  William  Caxton,  the  first  Eng- 
lish printer,  who  was  also  an  extensive  writer  and 
translator  of  books  : 

Francis,  servant  and  friend  of  Almighty  God, 
was  born  in  the  city  of  Assyse,  and  was  made  a 
merchant  unto  the  twenty-fifth  year  of  his  age, 
and  wasted  his  time  by  living  vainly,  whom  our 
Ford  corrected  by  the  scourge  of  sickness,  and 
suddenly  changed  him  into  another  man  ;  so  that 
he  began  to  shine  by  the  spirit  of  prophecy.  For 
on  a  time,  he,  with  other  men  of  Peruse,  was 
taken  prisoner,  and  were  put  in  a  cruel  prison, 
where  all  the  other  wailed  and  sorrowed,  and  he 
only  was  glad  and  enjoyed.  And  when  they  had 
repreved  him  thereof,  he  answered,  "Know  ye," 
said  he,  "that  I  am  joyful:  for  I  shall  be  wor- 
shipped as  a  saint  throughout  all  the  world."  .     . 

On  a  time  as  this  holy  man  was  in  prayer,  the 
■devil  called  him  thrice  by  his  own  name.  And 
when  the  holy  man  had  answered  him,  he  said, 
none  in  this  world  is  so  great  a  sinner,  but  if  he 
convert  him,  our  Ford  would  pardon  him  ;  but 
who  that  sleeth  himself  with  hard  penance,  shall 
never  find  mercy.  And  anon,  this  holy  man 
knew  by  revelation  the  fallacy  and  deceit  of  the 
fiend,  how  he  would  have  withdrawn  him  fro  to 
do  well.  And  when  the  devil  saw  that  he  might 
not  prevail  against  him,  he  tempted  him  by 
grievous  temptation  of  the  flesh.  And  when 
this  holy  sen-ant  of  God  felt  that,  he  despoiled* 
his  cloaths,  and  beat  himself  right  hard  with  an 
hard  cord,  saying,  "Thus,  brother  ass,  it  be- 
hoveth  thee  to  remain  and  to  be  beaten."  And 
when  the  temptation  departed  not,  he  went  out 
and  plunged  himself  in  the  snow,  all  naked,  and 
made  seven  great  balls  of  snow,  and  purposed  to 
have  taken  them  intof  his  body,  and  said,  "This 
greatest  is  tin-  wife  ;  and  these  four,  two  ben 
thy  daughters,  and  two  thy  sons  ;  and  the  other 
*  Took  off.        t  t;nto. 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


145 


twain,  that  one  thy  chambrere,  aud  that  other  thy 
varlet  or  yeoman  ;  haste  and  clothe  them  :  for 
they  all  die  for  cold.  And  if  thy  business  that 
thou  hast  about  them,  grieve  ye  sore,  then  serve 
our  Lord  perfectly."  And  anon,  the  devil  departed 
from  him  all  confused ;  and  St.  Francis  returned 
again  unto  his  cell  glorifying  God.     .     .     . 

He  was  ennobled  in  his  life  by  many  miracles  .  . 
and  the  very  death,  which  is  to  all  men  horrible 
and  hateful,  he  admonished  them  to  praise  it. 
And  also  he  warned  and  admonished  death  to 
come  to  him,  and  said,  "  Death,  my  sister,  welcome 
be  you."  And  when  he  came  at  the  last  hour,  he 
slept  in  our  Lord  ;  of  whom  a  friar  saw  the  soul, 
in  manner  of  a  star,  like  the  moon  in  quantity, 
and  the  sun  in  clearness. 


STORY  OF  AN    ENGLISH  MIRACLE. 

THE  following  story  of  early  English  history 
is  related  by  Fabian,  an  historian  of  distinc- 
tion, who  died  in  London  in  151 2.  He  prepared, 
among  other  works,  a  collection  of  such  fabulous 
stories  of  early  English  history,  which  he  pub- 
lished under  the  title  of  the  Concordance  of  Stories. 
This  one  is  based  upon  the  attempted  introduction 
of  Arianism  into  England,  the  heresy  being 
favored  by  King  Vortigen,  who  is  referred  to  in 
the  article : 

About  this  time  an  heresy,  called  Allan's 
heresy,  began  then  to  spring  up  in  Britain.  For 
the  which,  two  holy  bishops,  named  Germanus 
and  Lupus,  as  of  Gaufryde  is  witnessed,  came  into 
Britain  to  reform  the  king,  and  all  other  that  erred 
from  the  way  of  truth. 

Of  this  holy  man,  St.  Germain,  Vincent  His- 
torial  saith,  that  upon  an  evening  when  the 
weather  was  passing  cold,  and  the  snow  fell  very 
fast,  he  axed  lodging  of  the  king  of  Britain,  for 
him  and  his  compeers,  which  was  denied.  Then 
he,  after  sitting  under  a  bush  in  the  field,  the 
king's  herdman  passed  by,  and  seeing  this  bishop 
with  his  company  sitting  in  the  weather,  desired 
him  to  his  house  to  take  there  such  poor  lodging 
as  he  had.  Whereof  the  bishop  being  glad  and 
fain,  yode*  unto  the  house  of  the  said  herdman, 
the  which  received  him  with  glad  cheer.  And 
for  him  and  his  company,  willed  his  wife  to  kill  his 
only  calf,  and  to  dress  it  for  his  guest's  supper ;  the 
which  was  also  done.  When  the  holy  man  had 
supped,  he  called  to  him  his  hostess,  willing  and 
*Rode. 
10 


desiring  her,  that  she  should  diligently  gather 
together  all  the  bones  of  the  dead  calf;  and  them, 
so  gathered,  to  wrap  together  within  the  skin  of 
the  said  calf.  And  then  it  lay  in  the  stall  before 
the  rack  near  unto  the  dame.  Which  done  ac- 
cording to  the  commandment  of  the  holy  man, 
shortly  after  the  calf  was  restored  to  life  ;  and 
forthwith  ate  hay  with  the  dam  at  the  rack.  At 
which  marvel  all  the  house  was  greatly  astonished, 
and  yielded  thanking  unto  Almighty  God,  and  to 
that  holy  bishop. 

Upon  the  morrow,  this  holy  bishop  took  with 
him  the  herdman,  and  yode  unto  the  presence  of 
the  king,  and  axed  of  him  in  sharp  wise,  why  that 
over-night  he  had  denied  to  him  lodging.  Where- 
with the  king  was  so  abashed,  that  he  had  no 
power  to  give  unto  the  holy  man  answer.  Then, 
St.  Germain  said  to  him  :  "I  charge  thee,  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord  God,  that  thou  and  thine  depart 
from  this  palace,  and  resign  it  and  the  rule  of  thy 
land  to  him  that  is  more  worthy  this  room  than 
thou  art."  The  which  all  thing  by  power  divine 
was  observed  and  done  ;  and  the  said  herdman, 
by  the  holy  bishop's  authority,  was  set  into  the 
same  dignity ;  of  whom  after  descended  all  the 
kings  of  Britain. 

What  delightful  story  tellers  those  old  bishops 
and  historians  were ! 


THE  BATTLE  OF  BUNKER  HILL. 

mRS.  JOHN  ADAMS  was  in  Boston  during 
the  famous  battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  and  on 
the  following  day  wrote  a  letter  to  her  husband, 
describing  her  own  feelings  and  some  of  the  inci- 
dents of  that  great  event.  This  letter  and  the 
accompanying  accurate  illustration  of  the  battle 
give  us  a  very  correct  and  graphic  picture  of  this 
terrific  engagement : 

Sunday,  June  18th,  1775. 
Dearest  Friend  : — The  day — perhaps  the 
decisive  day — is  come,  on  which  the  fate  of 
America  depends.  My  bursting  heart  must  find 
vent  at  my  pen.  I  have  just  heard  that  our  dear 
friend,  Dr.  Warren,  is  no  more,  but  fell  gloriously 
fighting  for  his  country ;  saying,  better  to  die 
honorably  in  the  field  than  ignominiously  hung 
upon  the  gallows.  Great  is  our  loss.  He  has 
distinguished  himself  in  every  engagement,  by 
his  courage  and  fortitude,  by  animating  the 
soldiers,  and  leading  them  on  by  his  own  ex- 
ample.    A  particular  account  of  these  dreadful. 


146 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


but  I  hope  glorious,  days  will  be  transmitted  to 
you,  no  doubt,  in  the  exactest  manner. 

' '  The  race  is  not  to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle  to 
the  strong  ;  but  the  God  of  Israel  is  he  that  giveth 
strength  and  power  unto  his  people.  Trust  in  him 
at  all  times,  ye  people,  pour  out  your  hearts  before 
him  ;  God  is  a  refuge  for  us."  Charlestown  is 
laid  in  ashes.  The  battle  began  upon  our  in- 
trenchmeuts  upon  Bunker's  Hill,  Saturday  morn- 
ing about  three  o'clock,  and  has  not  ceased  yet, 
and  it  is  now  three  o'clock  Sabbath  afternoon. 

It  is  expected  they  will  come  out  over  the  Neck 
to-night,  and  a  dreadful  battle  must  ensue.  Al- 
mighty God,  cover  the  heads  of  our  countrymen, 
and  be  a  shield  to  our  dear  friends  !  How  many 
have  fallen,  we  know  not.  The  constant  roar  of 
the  cannon  is  so  distressing,  that  we  cannot  eat, 
drink,  or  sleep.  May  we  be  supported  and  sus- 
tained in  the  dreadful  conflict.  I  shall  tarry  here 
till  it  is  thought  unsafe  by  my  friends,  and  then  I 
have  secured  myself  a  retreat  at  your  brother's, 
who  has  kindly  offered  me  part  of  his  house.  I 
cannot  compose  myself  to  write  any  further  at 
present.     I  will  add  more  as  I  hear  further. 

Tuesday  afternoon. — I  have  been  so  much  agi- 
tated that  I  have  not  been  able  to  write  since 
Sabbath  day.  When  I  say  that  ten  thousand 
reports  are  passing,  vague  and  uncertain  as  the 
wind,  I  believe  I  speak  the  truth.  I  am  not  able 
to  give  you  any  authentic  account  of  last  Satur- 
day, but  you  will  not  be  destitute  of  intelligence. 
Colonel  Palmer  has  just  sent  me  word  that  he  has 
an  opportunity  of  conveyance.  Incorrect  as  this 
scrawl  ma3'  be,  it  shall  go.  I  ardently  pray  that 
you  may  be  supported  through  the  arduous  task 
you  have  before  you.  I  wish  I  could  contradict 
:he  report  of  the  Doctor's  death  ;  but  it  is  a 
lamentable  truth,  and  the  tears  of  multitudes  pay 
tribute  to  his  memory  ;  those  favorite  lines  of 
Collins  continually  sound  in  my  ears  : 

"How  sleep  the  brave,"  etc. 

I  must  close,  as  the  Deacon  waits.  I  have  not 
pretended  to  be  particular  with  regard  to  what  I 
have  heard,  because  I  know  you  will  collect  better 
intelligence.  The  spirits  of  the  people  are  very 
good ;  the  loss  of  Charlestown  affects  them  no 
more  than  a  drop  of  the  bucket.  I  am,  most 
sincerely, 

Yours,  Portia. 


CHARACTER    AND     PERSONAL    APPEARANCE 
OF  RICHARD  THE  THIRD. 

CTIR  THOMAS  MORE  gives  the  following 
vP  description  of  the  character  and  personal 
appearance  of  Richard  III.  of  England.  Shakes- 
peare evidently  followed  this  description  in  deli- 
neating the  character  of  the  deformed  monarch  : 

Richard,  the  third  son,  of  whom  we  now  en- 
treat, was  in  wit  and  courage  equal  w'th  either  of 
them  ;  in  body  and  prowess,  far  under  them  both ; 
little  of  stature,  ill- featured  of  limbs,  crook-backed, 
his  left  shoulder  much  higher  than  his  right,  hard- 
favored  of  visage.  He  was  malicious,  wrathful, 
envious,  and  from  afore  his  birth  ever  froward. 
It  is  for  truth  reported  that  the  duchess  his  mother 
had  so  much  ado  in  her  travail,  that  she  could  not 
be  delivered  of  him  uncut ;  and  that  he  came  into 
the  world  with  the  feet  forward,  as  men  be  borne 
outward ;  and  (as  the  fame  runneth)  also  not 
untoothed  (whether  men  of  hatred  report  above 
the  truth,  or  else  that  nature  changed  her  course 
in  his  beginning,  which,  in  the  course  of  his  life, 
many  things  unnaturally  committed). 

None  evil  captain  was  he  in  the  war,  as  to  which 
his  disposition  was  more  meetly  than  for  peace. 
Sundry  victories  had  he,  and  sometimes  over- 
throws, but  never  in  default  for  his  own  person, 
either  of  hardiness  or  politic  order.  Free  was  he 
called  of  dispense,  and  somewhat  above  his  power 
liberal.  With  large  gifts  he  get  him  unsteadfast 
friendship,  for  which  he  was  fain  to  pil  and  spoil 
in  other  places,  and  get  him  stedfast  hatred.  He 
was  close  and  secret ;  a  deep  dissimuler,  lowly  of 
countenance,  arrogant  of  heart ;  outwardly  coum- 
pinable  where  he  inwardly  hated,  not  letting  to 
kiss  whom  he  thought  to  kill ;  dispitious  and 
cruel,  not  for  evil  will  alway,  but  oftener  for  am- 
bition, and  either  for  the  surety  and  increase  of 
his  estate.  Friend  and  foe  was  indifferent,  where 
his  advantage  grew ;  he  spared  no  man's  death 
whose  life  withstood  his  purpose.  He  slew  with 
his  own  hands  King  Henry  VI.,  being  prisoner  in 
the  Tower. 


SIR  THOMAS  MORE. 
Cf  IR  THOMAS  MORE'S  enduring  fame  rests 
^P  principally  upon  the  fact  that  he  was  the 
author  of  Utopia.  He  was  born  in  London  in 
1480,  and  beheaded  at  the  Tower  July  6th,  1535. 
He  was  educated  at  Oxford  College,    where  he 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


147 


formed  a  friendship  with  the  distinguished  Eras- 
mus that  lasted  through  life.  On  leaving  Oxford 
he  studied  law  at  New  Inn  and  Lincoln's  Inn, 
London,  but  subsequently  manifested  a  predilec- 
tion for  a  monastic  life.  Falling  in  love,  how- 
ever, with  a  young  lady,  a  daughter  of  a  Mr.  Colt, 
of  Essex,  he  abandoned  his  monastic  ideas  and 
resolved  on  marriage.  Mr.  Colt  had  two  daughters, 
and  More's  preference  was  for  the  younger,  but 
when  he  considered  the  slight  and  consequent 
grief  to  the  elder  sister  if  the  younger  were  pre- 
ferred to  her  in  marriage,  he  gallantly  resolved  to 
disregard     his    own    feelings,    and    accordingly 


with  nervous  fits,  broke  out  into  ravings ;  and  she 
and  her  parish  priest  asserted  that  she  was  an  in- 
spired prophetess.  She  was  subsequently  induced 
to  take  the  veil  at  Canterbury,  for  the  sake  of  ad- 
ditional effect,  after  which,  through  the  influence 
of  her  spiritual  adviser,  she  delivered  prophecies 
against  the  reformation  and  particularly  against 
Henry  VIII.,  on  account  of  his  proposed  divorce 
from  Queen  Catharine-  This  led  to  her  arrest, 
in  1533,  and  after  having  made  a  confession  of 
conspiracy  in  December  of  that  year,  she  and  four 
of  her  accomplices  were  convicted  and  beheaded 
at  Tyburn  on  the  6th  of  March  following. 


THE   LAST   MEETING  BETWEEN  SIR 

married  the  elder  sister  instead  of  the  one  he  loved. 
She  proved  to  be  a  sour-tempered  woman,  and  it 
required  considerable  effort  on  his  part  to  sustain 
peace  in  his  family. 

After  the  accession  of  Henry  VIII.  he  was  promi- 
nently employed  in  public  affairs,  where  he 
gained  the  ill-will  of  the  king  by  refusing  to  sanc- 
tion the  latter' s  efforts  to  secure  a  divorce  from 
Queen  Catharine.  About  the  same  time  he  was 
implicated  in  the  imposture  of  Elizabeth  Barton, 
the  nun  of  Kent,  whom  he  believed  to  be  inspired. 
This  woman  was  a  servant,  who,    when   seized 


THOMAS   MORE   AND   HIS   DAUGHTER. 

The  king's  vengeance  against  Sir  Thomas 
More  was  not  long  delayed.  Numerous  charges 
were  pressed  against  him,  and  he  was  con- 
demned to  be  beheaded.  On  his  way  to  the 
Tower  an  incident  occurred  which  has  been  im- 
mortalized by  painters  and  poets.  It  was  the  last 
meeting  between  himself  and  his  beloved 
daughter.  The  interview  took  place  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  Tower  gateway,  and  is  thus  de- 
scribed by  Roper  in  his  life  of  Sir  Thomas  More  : 

"Thare  tarryinge  his  comminge,  as  soone  as 
she  sawe  him,  after  his  blessings  uppon  her  knees 


148 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


reverentlie  received,  she  hastinge  towards  him, 
without  consideraeion  or  care  of  her  selfe,  press- 
inge  in  amongst  the  midst  of  the  thronge  and 
companie  of  the  garde  that  with  halbards  and 
bills  went  round  about  him,  hastily  raune  to  him, 
and  theare  openly  in  sight  of  them  imbraced  him 
and  took  him  about  the  neck  and  kissed  him. 
Who  well  likinge  her  most  naturall  and  deere 
daughterlie  affection  towards  him,  gave  her  his 
fatherlie  blessinge  and  manie  godlie  words  of 
comfort  besides." 

On  the  morning  of  his  execution  Sir  Thomas 
dressed  himself  in  his  most  elaborate  costume, 
as  if  he  were  about  to  attend  some  pleasant  gather- 
ing ;  he  preserved  his  composure  to  the  last,  and, 
as  the  fatal  stroke  was  about  to  fall,  signed  for  a 
moment's  delay,  while  he  moved  aside  his  beard, 
murmuring:  "  Pity  that  should  be  cut :  that  has 
not  committed  treason." 

The  following  letter  from  Sir  Thomas  to  his 
wife,  on  the  occasion  of  learning  about  the  burn- 
ing of  some  barns  belonging  to  himself  and 
neighbors,  will  be  read  with  interest,  as  an  indi- 
cation of  the  character  of  the  man  and  the  cus- 
toms of  those  ancient  times  : 

Mistress  Alice,  in  my  most  heartywise  I 
recommend  me  to  you.  And  whereas  I  am  in- 
formed by  my  son  Heron  of  the  loss  of  our  barns 
and  our  neighbours'  also,  with  all  the  corn  that 
was  therein ;  albeit  (saving  God's  pleasure)  it  is 
great  pity  of  so  much  good  corn  lost ;  yet  since 
it  has  liked  him  to  send  us  such  a  chance,  we 
must  and  are  bounden,  not  only  to  be  content,  but 
also  to  be  glad  of  his  visitation.  He  sent  us  all 
that  we  have  lost ;  and  since  he  hath  by  such  a 
chance  taken  it  away  again,  his  pleasure  be  ful- 
filled !  Let  us  never  grudge  thereat,  but  take  it  in 
good  worth,  and  heartily  thank  him,  as  well  for 
adversity  as  for  prosperity.  And  peradventure  we 
have  more  cause  to  thank  him  for  our  loss  than 
for  our  winning,  for  his  wisdom  better  seeth  what 
is  good  for  us  than  we  do  ourselves.  Therefore, 
I  pray  you  be  of  good  cheer,  and  take  all  the 
household  with  you  to  church,  and  there  thank 
God,  both  for  what  he  has  given  us,  and  for  that 
he  has  taken  from  us,  and  for  that  he  hath  left 
us;  which,  if  it  please  him,  he  can  increase  when 
he  will,  and  if  it  please  him  to  leave  us  yet  less, 
at  his  pleasure  be  it ! 

I  pray  you  to  make  some  good  onsearch  what 
my  poor  neighbours  have  lost,  and  bid  them  take 


no  thought  therefor;  for,  if  I  should  not  leave 
myself  a  spoon,  there  shall  be  no  poor  neigkbour 
of  mine  bear  no  loss  by  my  chance,  happened  in 
my  house.  I  pray  you  be,  with  my  children  and 
your  household,  merry  in  God ;  and  devise  some- 
what with  your  friends  what  way  were  best  to 
take,  for  provision  to  be  made  for  corn  for  our 
household,  and  for  seed  this  year  coming,  if  we 
think  it  good  that  we  keep  the  ground  still  in  our 
hands.  And  whether  we  think  it  good  that  we 
so  shall  do  or  not,  yet  I  think  it  were  not  best 
suddenly  thus  to  leave  it  all  up,  and  to  put  away 
our  folk  from  our  farm,  till  we  have  somewhat 
advised  us  thereon.  Howbeit,  if  we  have  more 
now  than  ye  shall  need,  and  which  can  get  them 
other  masters,  ye  may  then  discharge  us  of  them. 
But  I  would  not  that  any  man  were  suddenly  sent 
away,  he  wot  not  whither. 

At  my  coming  hither,  I  perceived  none  other 
but  that  I  should  tarry  still  with  the  king's  grace. 
But  now  I  shall,  I  think,  because  of  this  chance, 
get  leave  this  next  week  to  come  home  and  see 
you,  and  then  shall  we  further  devise  together 
upon  all  things,  what  order  shall  be  the  best  to 
take. 

And  thus  as  heartily  fare  you  well,  with  all  our 
children,  as  ye  can  wish.  At  Woodstock,  the 
third  day  of  September,  by  the  hand  of 

Thomas  More. 


THE  BLACK  DEATH  OF  THE  FOURTEENTH 

CENTURY. 
QTRANGELY  enough,  this  great  pestilence, 
\D  which  desolated  Europe,  Asia,  and  Africa, 
and  of  which  the  people  of  those  countries  still 
preserve  many  gloomy  traditions,  has  not  been 
considered  by  the  leading  historians  of  sufficient 
importance  to  deserve  more  than  a  passing  notice. 
It  destroyed  more  people  in  the  space  of  fifteen 
years  than  have  been  killed  in  all  the  battles  of 
Europe  since  the  days  of  the  Roman  Empire,  and 
it  exercised  a  greater  influence  upon  western 
civilization  than  any  other  single  event.  It  was  an 
oriental  plague,  marked  by  inflammatory  boils 
and  tumors  of  the  glands ;  and  from  the  black 
spots,  indicatory  of  a  putrid  decomposition,  which 
appeared  upon  the  skin,  it  was  called  in  Germany 
and  in  the  northern  kingdoms  of  Europe,  the 
Black  Death,  and  in  Italy,  la  mortolya  grande,  the 
Great  Mortality. 
In  many  cases  black  spots  broke  out  all  over  the 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY 


149 


body,  either  single,  or  united  and  confluent.  In 
others,  boils  and  blisters  appeared  on  various  parts 
of  the  body, 
emitting  an  ex- 
ceedingly offen- 
sive odor.  Many 
patients  became 
stupefied,  and 
fell  into  a  deep 
sleep,  losing 
also  their  speech 
from  palsy  of  the 
tongue ;  others 
remained  sleep- 
leas  and  without 
rest  The  fauces 
and  tongue  were 
black,  as  if  suf- 
fused with  blood 
Nothing  could 
assuage  their 
burning  thirst, 
so  that  their 
sufferings  con- 
tinued without 
alleviation  until 
terminated  b  y 
death,  which 
many  hastened 
with  their  own 
hands.  Conta- 
gion was  evi- 
dent ;  the  organs 
of respiration 
were  seized  with 
a  putrid  inflam- 
mation, accom- 
panied by  vio- 
lent pains  in  the 
chest ;  blood  was 
expectorated, 
and  the  breath 
diffused  a  pes- 
tiferous odor. 

The  plague 
raged  in  Avig- 
non for  six  or 
eight  weeks,  and 
the  pestilential 
breath  of  the  sick  caused  a  terrible  contagion  far 
and  near ;  for  even  the  vicinity  of  those  who  fell 


ill  was  certain  death,  so  that  parents  abandoned 
their  infected  children,  and  all  the  ties  of  kindred 


BLACK  DEATH 


AVIGNON,  FRANCE. 


were  dissolved.     The   plague   appeared  twice  in 
Avignon,  first  in   1348,  from  January  to  August, 


150 


THE  WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


and  again  twelve  years  later,  in  the  autumn. 
The  first  time  it  raged  principally  among  the  poor, 
but  in  1360  more  among  the  higher  classes. 
During  the  second  visitation  it  also  destroyed  a 
great  many  children,  whom  it  had  formerly  spared, 
and  but  few  women. 

I11  Florence,  Italy,  the  fatality  was  incredible. 
Boccaccio,  the  author,  was  an  eye-witness  of  its 
ravages,  and  he  gives  a  lively  description  of  the 
progress  and  fearful  havoc  of  the  disease.  It  com- 
menced here  with  bleeding  of  the  nose,  a  sure 
sign  of  inevitable  death.  Tumors  and  boils,  vary- 
ing in  circumference  to  the  size  of  an  apple  or  an 
egg,  and  called  by  the  people  "pest-boils,"  also 
appeared  indiscriminately  over  all  parts  of  the 
body,  and  black  or  blue  spots  came  out  on  the 
arms  and  thighs,  or  on  other  parts,  either  single 
and  large,  or  small  and  in  thickly  studded  patches. 

The  plague  spread  itself  with  great  fury,  com- 
municating from  the  sick  to  the  health}'  like  fire 
among  dry  and  oil)-  fuel ;  even  contact  with  the 
clothes  and  other  articles  used  by  the  sick  seemed 
to  induce  the  disease.  Not  only  human  beings, 
but  animals  fell  sick  and  shortly  expired,  if  they 
but  touched  articles  belonging  to  the  sick  or 
dead.  Boccacio  relates  that  he  saw  two  hogs 
tearing  the  clothes  of  a  person  who  had  died  of 
the  plague,  and  after  staggering  about  a  while 
they  fell  down  dead,  as  if  they  had  taken  poison. 
In  other  places  multitudes  of  cats,  dogs,  fowls 
and  other  animals  fell  victims  to  the  contagion. 

The  plague  came  from  France  in  a  northern 
direction  from  Avignon,  and  was  there  more  de- 
structive than  it  had  been  in  Italy  and  Germany, 
It  is  asserted  that  in  many  places  not  more  than 
two  in  twenty  of  the  inhabitants  survived.  Many 
were  struck  as  if  by  lightning,  dying  on  the  spot ; 
and  this  more  frequently  among  the  young  and 
strong  than  among  the  old  or  feeble.  Even  the 
eyes  of  patients  were  considered  as  sources  of 
contagion  by  the  superstitious  people  of  that  age. 
Flight  from  infected  cities  seldom  availed  the 
fearful,  for  the  germ  of  the  disease  adhered  to 
them,  and  they  died  by  thousands  along  the 
highways,  and  in  the  fields  and  other  lonely 
places,  remote  from  sympathy  or  help,  until  the 
whole  land  became  offensive  with  putrefying  dead 
bodies. 

The  disease  first  approached  England  through 
the  count}'  of  Dorset,  from  whence  it  advanced 
with  great  rapidity  through  the  counties  of  Devon 


and  Somerset,  to  Bristol,  and  thence  reached 
Gloucester,  Oxford  and  London.  So  terrible 
were  its  ravages  that  throughout  the  land  not 
more  than  a  tenth  part  of  the  inhabitants  re- 
mained alive. 

From  England  the  contagion  was  carried  by 
a  ship  to  Bergen,  Norway,  where  the  plague 
broke  out  in  its  most  frightful  form,  with  vomit- 
ing of  blood.  The  sailors  found  no  refuge  in 
their  ships ;  and  vessels  were  often  seen  driving 
about  011  the  ocean  or  drifting  on  shore,  whose 
crews  had  perished  to  the  last  man. 

During  the  middle  ages  people  lived  principally 
in  closely  built  and  densely  populated  cities, 
totally  unsupplied  with  the  sanitary  conveniences 
of  modern  times.  Their  houses  were  narrowly 
built,  kept  in  a  wretchedly  filthy  state,  and  sur- 
rounded with  stagnant  ditches,  as  a  means  of  de- 
fence in  time  of  war.  There  was  little  or  no  medi- 
cal science,  and  the  people  were  densely  ignorant 
and  superstitious,  regarding  everything  that  was 
mysterious  or  in  the  nature  of  a  calamity  as  a 
visitation  from  God.  These  conditions  had  much 
to  do  with  the  spread  and  fatality  of  the  pesti- 
lence, and  made  it  far  more  tenacious  and  stub- 
born. 

Terrible  Convulsions  of  the  Earth. 

But  there  were  also  other  causes  of  a  most 
alarming  character,  in  the  mighty  revolutions  of 
the  internal  organism  of  the  earth,  commencing 
just  previous  to  the  first  appearance  of  the 
plague  and  continuing  for  some  years.  These 
remarkable  facts  have  been  almost  totally  neg- 
lected by  historians,  who  have  preferred  to 
devote  their  talents  to  describing  the  intrigues  of 
princes  and  the  petty  wars  of  those  barbarous 
times.  From  China  to  the  Atlantic  the  founda- 
dations  of  the  earth  were  shaken  ;  throughout 
Asia  and  Europe  the  atmosphere  was  in  com- 
motion, and  endangered,  by  its  baleful  influ- 
ence, both  animal  and  vegetable  life.  In  1333, 
fifteen  years  before  the  plague  broke  out  in  Eu- 
rope, a  parching  drought,  accompanied  by 
famine,  commenced  in  the  tract  of  country  wa- 
tered by  the  rivers  Kiang  and  Hoai.  This  was 
followed  by  such  violent  torrents  of  rain  that, 
according  to  traditions,  more  than  four  hundred 
thousand  people  perished  in  the  floods.  Finally 
the  mountain  Tsin-cheon  fell  in,  and  vast  clefts  were 
formed  in  the  earth.  In  the  succeeding  year  the 
neighborhood  of  Canton  was  visited  by  inunda- 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


151 


tions;  while  in  Tche,  after  an  unexampled 
drought,  a  plague  arose  which  is  said  to  have  car- 
ried off  the  almost  incredible  number  of  five 
millions  of  people.  Soon  afterward  the  moun- 
tains of  Ki-ming-chan  fell  in,  and  a  lake  more 
than  three  hundred  miles  in  circumference  was 
formed  in  their  stead,  where  thousands  of  other 
human  beings  found  a  watery  grave.  The  ele- 
ments were  in  a  fearful  riot,  and  death  prevailed 
on  all  sides.  In  Hon-konang  and  Ho-nan  a 
drought  prevailed  for  five  months ;  innumerable 
swarms  of  locusts  destroyed  vegetation,  while 
famine  and  pestilence,  as  usual,  followed  in  their 
train.  It  is  estimated  that  in  China  alone  over 
fifteen  millions  of  people  were  destroyed  by  these 
various  calamities  and  the  pestilence,  between 
1333  and  1347.  According  to  Chinese  govern- 
ment annals  about  four  millions  of  people  per- 
ished of  famine  in  the  neighborhood  of  Kiang 
in  the  single  year  of  1337 ;  while  deluges, 
swarms  of  locusts,  and  an  earthquake  that 
lasted  six  days,  caused  incredible  devastation. 
In  1338  Kingsai  was  visited  by  an  earthquake 
of  ten  days'  duration.  In  1343  the  mountain 
of  Hong-tchang  fell  in,  causing  a  destructive 
deluge ;  and  in  the  provinces  of  Pien-ptcheon 
and  L,iang-tcheon,  after  three  months  of  pouring 
rain,  there  followed  innundations  which  destroyed 
seven  large  cities,  besides  thousands  of  people 
inhabiting  the  adjacent  country  districts.  These 
earthquakes  and  remarkable  atmospheric  dis- 
turbances, accompanied  by  subterraneous  thunder, 
continued  in  China  and  portions  of  Egypt  and 
Syria,  until  1348,  when  they  gradually  subsided. 

Simultaneously  with  these  dreadful  disasters  in 
the  East,  many  uncommon  atmospheric  pheno- 
mena took  place  in  the  north  of  France,  and  in 
other  portions  of  Europe.  Fearful  thunder-storms 
occurred  in  the  midst  of  winter,  and  in  the  Rhine 
regions  there  were  great  floods  which  could  not 
be  attributed  to  rain  alone  ;  for  everywhere,  even 
on  the  tops  of  mountains,  springs  were  seen  to 
burst  forth,  and  dry  tracts  of  land  became  sub- 
merged in  water  in  an  inexplicable  manner. 

On  the  island  of  Cyprus  the  plague  from  the 
East  had  already  broken  out,  when  an  earthquake 
shook  the  very  foundations  of  the  island,  accom- 
panied by  a  frightful  hurricane  that  laid  waste  the 
country  and  destroyed  thousands  of  lives.  The 
sea  overflowed  its  barriers,  ships  were  dashed  to 
pieces  on  the  rocks,  and  few  outlived  the  terrific 


events  whereby  this  fertile  and  blooming  island 
was  converted  into  a  desert.  Before  the  earth- 
quake, a  pestiferous  wind  spread  so  poisonous  an 
odor  that  many,  being  overpowered  by  it,  fell 
down  suddenly  and  expired  in  dreadful  agonies. 
There  were  also  many  locusts  which  had  been 
blown  into  the  sea  by  the  hurricane,  and  after- 
ward cast  dead  upon  the  shores,  producing  a 
noxious  and  deadly  exhalation.  A  dense  and 
awful  fog  was  seen  in  the  heavens  rising  in  the 
east  and  settling  upon  Italy.  This  fog  or  mist 
was  accompanied  by  a  stinking  odor,  which 
carried  contagion  with  it  and  rapidly  spread  the 
pestilence.  In  thousands  of  places  chasms  were 
formed,  from  whence  arose  noxious  vapors  ;  and 
as  in  those  times  natural  occurrences  were  trans- 
formed into  miracles,  it  was  asserted  that  a  fiery 
meteor  which  descended  on  the  earth  far  in  the 
East  had  destroyed  everything  within  a  circum- 
ference of  more  than  three  hundred  miles,  infect- 
ing the  air  far  and  wide.  Vast  river  districts  were 
converted  into  swamps,  and  foul  vapors  arose 
everywhere,  increased  by  the  odors  of  putrefied 
locusts,  which  came  in  such  dense  swarms  as  to 
darken  the  sun.  Decaying  corpses,  which,  even 
in  the  best-regulated  countries  of  Europe,  they 
knew  not  how  to  remove  quickly  enough  out  of 
the  sight  of  the  living,  festered  in  the  streets,  in 
the  deserted  houses,  and  along  the  highways, 
adding  their  poisons  to  the  foul  and  stinking 
atmosphere  that  was  everywhere  loaded  with 
death. 

The  earthquake  shocks  frequently  continued  for 
a  week,  or  even  two  weeks,  without  intermission, 
during  which  people  experienced  an  unusual 
stupor  and  headache,  and  many  fainted  away. 
These  earthquakes  recurred  at  frequent  intervals, 
throughout  all  the  countries  of  Europe,  until 
1360,  when  they  gradually  ceased. 

Great  and  extraordinary  meteors  appeared  in 
many  places,  doubtless  caused  by-  the  putrid  con- 
dition of  the  atmosphere,  but  they  were  regarded 
with  superstitious  horror  by  the  ignorant  people 
of  those  times.  A  pillar  of  fire,  which  on  the 
20th  of  December,  1348,  remained  for  an  hour  at 
sunrise  over  the  Pope's  palace  at  Avignon  ;  a  fire- 
ball, which,  in  August  of  the  same  year,  was  seen 
at  sunset  hanging  in  the  heavens  over  the  city  of 
Paris,  and  was  distinguished  from  similar  pheno- 
mena by  its  longer  duration,  not  to  mention  other 
instances  of  a  startling  character  mixed  up  with 


152 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND  THE 


wonderful  prophecies  and  omens,  are  recorded  iu 
tb.2  chronicles  of  that  age.  No  wonder,  there- 
fore, that  the  superstitious  people  were  greatly 
alarmed,  or  that  they  imagined  the  end  of  the 
world  to  be  near  at  hand.  Such  startling  phe- 
nomena, occurring  even  in  our  own  times,  would 
naturally  make  a  profound  impression  upon  the 
minds  of  men,  and  cause  the  timid  to  tremble 
with  apprehensions  of  unknown  and  unspeakable 


bake-houses  were  erected,  from  which,  during  '1'- 
single  month  of  April,  ninety-four  thousand  loaves 
of  bread  were  distributed  to  the  famishing  people- 
Children  died  of  hunger  in  their  mothers'  arms, 
and  want,  misery,  and  despair  were  general 
throughout  Christendom. 

Horrors  that  Attended  upon  the  Plague. 
Such  were  the  terrific  events  which  took  place 
just  before  the  eruption  of  the  Black  Death  in 


THE   PESTILENCB   IN  VIENNA. 


horrors.  It  seemed  as  if  all  the  vials  of  wrath 
were  being  emptied  at  once  upon  our  devoted 
planet. 

The  order  of  the  seasons  appeared  to  be  in- 
verted— rains,  floods,  and  failures  in  crops  were  so 
general,  that  few  places  were  exempt  from  them. 
In  Italy  a  rain  continued  incessantly  for  four 
months,  destroying  all  the  seeds,  and  producing 
a  distressing  famine.     In  Florence,  in  1347,  large 


Europe.  The  people  were  yet  but  little  civilized. 
The  Church  had  indeed  subdued  them  ;  but  they 
all  suffered  from  the  ill-consequences  of  their  ori- 
ginal rudeness.  The  cities  were  fortresses  for 
their  own  defence  ;  highwaymen  and  marauders 
openly  plied  their  occupations  of  rapine  and  rob- 
bery, and  boldly  encamped  on  the  roads ;  the 
husbandman  was  a  slave,  without  possessions  of 
his  own,  and  subject  to  the  whims  ot  ignorant 


BEAUTIFUL   IN  THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


153 


and  cruel  masters ;  witches  and  heretics  were 
burned  alive  ;  wild  passions,  severity,  and  cruelty 
everywhere  predominated.  Human  life  was  little 
regarded,  and  the  rulers  did  not  concern  them- 
selves about  their  subjects,  whom  they  considered 
as  chattels  or  slaves. 

Careful  estimates  place  the  number  of  people 
who  perished  from  the  plague  and  its  attendant 
horrors,  in  China,  Europe,  and  Asia,  at  23,840,000 ! 
At  Ivubeck,  at  that  time  the  Venice  of  the  north, 
the  citizens  were  thrown  into  such  consternation 
on  the  appearance  of  the  plague  that  they  de- 
stroyed themselves  as  if  in  a  frenzy.  Riches  were 
no  longer  regarded.  The  superstitious  people 
carried  their  treasures  to  the  churches  and  monas- 
teries and  laid  them  on  the  altar ;  but  gold  had 
no  charms  for  the  monks,  for  it  brought  them 
deatk.  They  closed  their  gates  to  shut  out  the 
contagion  ;  yet  still  the  infected  wealth  was  cast 
to  them  over  the  convent  walls.  People  would 
brook  no  impediment  to  the  last  pious  offerings  to 
which  they  were  driven  in  despair. 

The  churchyards  were  unable  to  contain  the 
dead,  and  many  houses,  left  without  inhabitants, 
fell  into  ruins.  The  pope  consecrated  the  Rhone, 
in  order  that  the  dead  might  be  thrown  into  it 
without  delay,  as  there  was  no  longer  any  room 
for  them  in  the  churchyards.  In  all  populous 
cities  extraordinary  means  were  adopted  for  the 
disposal  of  the  dead.  At  Vienna  the  interment 
of  corpses  in  the  church  and  churchyards  was  pro- 
hibited; and  corpses  were  then  arranged  in 
layers  by  thousands,  in  six  large  pits  outside  the 
city;  yet  still  many  were  secretly  buried,  for  at 
all  times  the  people  are  attached  to  the  conse- 
crated cemeteries  of  their  dead,  and  will  not  re- 
nounce the  customary  mode  of  interment. 

In  many  places  it  was  rumored  that  plague 
patients  were  buried  alive,  as  may  sometimes 
happen  through  senseless  alarm  and  indecent 
haste  ;  and  thus  the  horror  of  the  distressed  people 
was  everywhere  increased.  At  London,  in  one 
burial  ground  alone,  upwards  of  50,000  corpses 
were  disposed  of,  arranged  in  layers  in  large  pits. 

Scotland  would  perhaps  have  escaped  had  not 
the  Scots  availed  themselves  of  the  discomfiture 
of  the  English,  to  make  an  irruption  into  their 
territory,  which  terminated  in  the  destruction  of 
their  army  by  the  pestilence  and  the  sword,  and 
the  extension  of  the  plague,  through  those  who 
escaped,  over  tne  whole  country 


At  the  commencement,  there  was  in  England  a 
superabundance  of  all  the  necessaries  of  life  ;  but 
the  plague,  which  seemed  then  to  be  the  sole 
disease,  was  soon  accompanied  by  a  fatal  murrain 
among  the  cattle.  Wandering  about  without 
herdsmen,  they  fell  by  thousands ;  and  it  was 
observed  that  the  birds  and  beasts  of  prey,  warned 
by  their  instinct  of  self-preservation,  would  not 
touch  them.  It  is  supposed  that  the  murrain 
originated  from  communication  with  the  plague 
patients,  as  it  did  not  appear  until  after  the  com- 
mencement of  the  Black  Death,  and  in  some 
respects  it  resembled  that  terrible  distemper.  The 
destruction  of  the  cattle,  and  the  neglect  of  the 
harvests  occasioned  by  the  sickness  among  the 
people,  soon  produced  a  great  scarcity  of  provi- 
sions, and  famine,  in  its  most  dreaded  aspects, 
for  many  months  threatened  the  people  of  Eng- 
land. 

When  the  plague  ceased,  men  thought  they 
were  still  wandering  among  the  dead,  so  appalling 
was  the  livid  aspect  of  the  survivors,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  anxiety  they  had  undergone,  the 
lack  of  proper  food,  and  the  infection  of  the  air. 

Immediately  after  the  cessation  of  the  pesti- 
lence, the  monastic  orders  received  large  acces- 
sions from  the  ignorant  laymen,  who  having  lost 
their  wives,  sought  to  participate  in  the  respecta- 
bility of  the  priesthood  and  the  rich  heritages 
which  came  to  the  churches  from  all  quarters 
Many  disorderly  and  disreputable  characters  were 
thus  admitted  to  the  sacred  office,  and  thereby 
brought  great  discredit  upon  the  Church. 

In  1350  Pope  Clement  VI.  cited  the  faithful  to 
Rome  in  celebration  of  the  jubilee.  The  large 
bodies  of  people  that  gathered  in  obedience  to 
this  summons,  caused  a  new  eruption  of  the 
plague,  from  which  it  is  said  that  scarcely  one  in 
a  hundred  of  the  pilgrims  escaped.  Italy  was,  in 
consequence,  depopulated  anew,  and  those  who 
returned  spread  poison  and  corruption  of  morals 
in  all  directions. 

The  inhabitants  of  Iceland  and  Greenland 
found,  in  the  coldness  of  their  inhospitable  climate, 
no  protection  against  the  southern  enemy.  The 
plague  caused  great  havoc  among  them.  It  also 
spread  to  Denmark  and  Nonvay,  where  the  people 
beeame  so  occupied  with  their  misery  that  their 
accustomed  voyages  to  Greenland  ceased.  The 
convulsion  of  the  earth,  and  changes  in  its  con- 
formation, caused   towering  icebergs  to  form  oa 


154 


THE  WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


the  coast  of  East  Greenland,  and  no  mortal,  from 
that  time  to  the  present  day,  has  ever  seen  that 
shore  or  its  inhabitants.  They  were  suddenly  and 
irrevocably  cut  off  from  communication  with  the 
rest  of  mankind.  This  is  a  remarkable  fact,  and 
some  northern  explorer  may  yet  make  a  discovery 
of  these  lost  people,  who,  having  had  no  opportu- 
nity to  make  any  progress,  shall  astonish  the  world 
by  exhibiting  to  us  in  all  their  details  the  manners 
and  customs  of  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  cen- 
turies. 

After  the  cessation  of  the  plague,  a  great  fertility 
in  women  was  everywhere  remarkable — a  phe- 
nomenon which,  from  its  occurrence  after  every 
destructive  pestilence,  sustains  our  belief  in  a 
higher  power,  governing  and  directing  everything 
for  the  good  of  mankind  and  the  increase  of  the 
world's  population-  Marriages  were,  almost  with- 
out exception,  very  prolific,  and  double  and  treble 
births  were  more  frequent  than  at  other  times.  It 
is  also  asserted  that  children  born  after  the  "great 
mortality,"  had  fewer  teeth  than  before,  a  phe- 
nomenon which  greatly  shocked  the  people  of 
those  times.  This  leads  us  to  conclude  that  there 
may  be  some  ground  for  the  predictions  of  the  den- 
tists, that  we  are  gradually  advancing  toward  that 
condition  when  we  shall  have  no  teeth  whatever. 
Writers  of  that  period  claim  that  children  born 
before  the  Black  Death  had  twenty-eight  decidu- 
ous teeth,  while  since  that  time  the  usual  number 
is  only  twenty.  We  doubt  the  truth  of  this  state- 
ment, for  the  world  then  believed  in  miracles  and 
marvels,  and  it  readily  accepted  the  belief  that  the 
plague  had  caused  an  imperfection  in  the  human 
body.  We  presume  the  matter  could  be  easily 
determined  by  an  examination  of  the  mummy  of 
some  ancient  Egyptian  child. 

Finally,  when  the  plague  had  disappeared,  the 
people  gradually  consoled  themselves  for  the  suf- 
ferings they  had  endured ;  the  dead  were  soon 
forgotten,  and  in  the  stirring  vicissitudes  of  exist- 
ence the  world  belonged  to  the  living. 


LIFE  AMONG  THE  ENGLISH  YEOMEN  IN  THE 
SIXTEENTH  CENTURY. 

THIS  extract  from  a  sermon  by  Bishop  Lati- 
mer gives  a  good  idea  of  how  the  common 
people  of  England  lived  in  the  early  part  of  the 
sixteenth  century : 

My  father  was  a  yeoman,  and  had  no  lands  of 
his  own,  only  he  had  a  farm  of  ,£3  or  £^  by  year 


at  the  uttermost,  and  hereupon  he  tilled  so  much 
as  kept  half  a  dozen  men.  He  had  walk  for  an 
hundred  sheep,  and  my  mother  milked  thirty  kine. 
He  was  able,  and  did  find  the  king  a  harness,  with 
himself  and  his  horse,  while  he  came  to  the  place 
that  he  should  receive  the  king's  wages.  I  can 
remember  that  I  buckled  his  harness  when  he  went 
to  Blackheath  field.  He  kept  me  to  school,  or  else 
I  had  not  been  able  to  have  preached  before  the 
king's  majesty  now.  He  married  my  sisters  with 
£5  or  20  nobles  a-piece,  so  that  he  brought  them 
up  in  godliness  and  fear  of  God.  He  kept  hospi- 
tality for  his  poor  neighbours.  And  also  alms  he 
gave  to  the  poor,  and  all  this  did  he  of  the  said 
farm.  Where  he  that  now  hath  it,  payeth  £\6  by 
the  year,  or  more,  and  is  not  able  to  do  any  thing 
for  his  prince,  for  himself,  nor  for  his  children,  or 
give  a  cup  of  drink  to  the  poor. 

In  my  time  ray  poor  father  was  as  diligent  to 
teach  me  to  shoot,  as  to  learn  me  any  other  thing, 
and  so  I  think  other  men  did  their  children  :  he 
taught  me  how  to  draw,  how  to  lay  my  body  in 
my  bow,  and  not  to  draw  with  strength  of  arms 
as  divers  other  nations  do  but  with  strength  of 
body.  I  had  my  bows  brought  me  according  to 
my  age  and  strength  ;  as  I  increased  in  them,  so 
my  bows  were  made  bigger  and  bigger,  for  men 
shall  never.shoot  well,  except  they  be  brought  up 
in  it ;  it  is  a  worthy  game,  a  wholesome  kind  of 
exercise,  and  much  commended  in  physic. 

Latimer  was  tried  for  heresy  and  executed  at 
the  stake  October  16,  1555.  To  hasten  his  death, 
gunpowder  was  fastened  about  his  body,  and  upon 
its  explosion  with  the  first  flame,  he  died  instantly. 
This  was  regarded  as  a  special  act  of  clemency  in 
those  barbarous  days. 


THEATRES    IN   THE  TIME   OK   QUEEN 
ELIZABETH. 

THE  first  regularly  licensed  theatre  in  London 
was  opened  at  Blackfriars  in  1576  ;  and  in 
ten  years,  it  is  mentioned  by  Secretary  Walsing- 
ham,  that  there  were  two  hundred  players  in  and 
near  the  metropolis.  This  was  probably  an  ex- 
aggeration, but  it  is  certain  that  there  were  five 
public  theatres  open  about  the  commencement  of 
Shakspeare's  career,  and  special  private  or  select 
establishments.  Curiosity  is  naturally  e  xcited  to 
learn  something  of  the  structure  and  appearance 
of  the  buildings  in  which  his  immortal  dramas 
first  saw  light,  and  where  he  unwillingly  made 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S    HISTORY. 


155 


himself  a  "motley  to  the  view,"  in  his  character 
of  actor.  The  theatres  were  constructed  of  wood, 
of  a  cirular  form,  open  to  the  weather,  excepting 
over  the  stage,  which  was  covered  with  a  thatched 
roof.  Outside,  on  the  roof,  a  flag  was  hoisted 
during  the  time  of  performance,  which  commenced 
at  three  o'clock,  at  the  third  sounding  or  nourish 
of  trumpets.  The  cavaliers  and  fair  dames  of  the 
court  of  Elizabeth  sat  in  boxes  below  the  gallery, 
or  were  accommodated  with  stools  on  the  stage, 
where  some  of  the  young  gallants  also  threw 
themselves  at  length  on  the  rush-strewn  floor, 
while  their  pages  handed  them  pipes  and  tobacco, 
then  a  fashionable  and  highly-prized  luxury.  The 
middle  classes  were  crowded  in  the  pit,  or  yard, 
which  was  not  furnished  with  seats.  Moveable 
scenery  was  first  introduced  by  Davenant,  after 
the  Restoration,  but  rude  imitations  of  towers, 
woods,  animals,  or  furniture,  served  to  illustrate 
the  scene.  To  point  out  the  place  of  action,  a 
board  containing  the  name,  painted  or  written  in 
large  letters,  was  hung  out  during  the  perform- 
ance. Anciently,  an  allegorical  exhibition,  called 
the  Dumb  Show,  was  exhibited  before  every  act, 
and  gave  an  outline  of  the  action  or  circumstances 
to  follow.  Shakspeare  has  preserved  this  peculi- 
arity in  the  play  acted  before  the  king  and  queen 
in  Hamlet ;  but  he  never  employs  it  in  his  own 
dramas.  Such  machinery,  indeed,  would  be  in- 
compatible with  the  increased  action  of  the  stage, 
when  the  miracle  plays  had  given  place  to  the 
' '  pomp  and  circumstance  ' '  of  historical  dramas, 
and  the  bustling  liveliness  of  comedy.  The  chorus 
was  longer  retained,  and  appears  in  Marlow's 
Faustus,  and  in  Henry  VI.  Actresses  were  not 
seen  on  the  stage  till  after  the  Restoration,  and 
the  female  parts  were  played  by  boys,  or  delicate- 
looking  young  men.  This  may  perhaps  palliate 
the  grossness  of  some  of  the  language  put  into 
the  mouths  of  females  in  the  old  plays,  while  it 
serves  to  point  out  still  more  clearly  the  depth  of 
that  innate  sense  of  beauty  and  excellence  which 
prompted  the  exquisite  pictures  of  loveliness  and 
perfection  in  Shakspeare' s  female  characters.  At 
the  end  of  each  performance,  the  clown  or  buffoon 
actor  of  the  company,  recited  or  sung  a  rhyming 
medley  called  a  jig,  in  which  he  contrived  to  in- 
troduce satirical  allusions  to  public  men  or  events  ; 
and  before  dismissing  the  audience,  the  actors 
knelt  in  front  of  the  stage,  and  offered  up  a  prayer 
for  the  queen  !     Reviewing  these  rude  arrange- 


ments of  the  old  theatres,  Mr.  Dyce  happily  re- 
marks— "What  a  contrast  between  the  almost 
total  want  of  scenery  in  those  days,  and  the 
splendid  representations  of  external  nature  in  our 
modern  playhouses  !     Yet  perhaps  the  decline  of 


THEATRE    IN   WHICH    SHAKESPEARE  S    PLAYS 
WERE   FIRST  PRODUCED. 

the  drama  may  in  a  great  measure  be  attributed  to 
this  improvement.  The  attention  of  an  audience 
is  now  directed  rather  to  the  efforts  of  the  painter 
than  to  those  of  the  actor,  who  is  lost  amid  the 
mavellous  effects  of  light  and  shade  on  our  gigan- 
tic stage." 

A  BRAVE  WOMAN. 

ON  the  twenty-seventh  of  January,  1796,  a 
party  of  Indians  killed  George  Mason,  on 
Flat  Creek,  about  twelve  miles  from  Knoxville, 
Tennessee.  During  the  night,  he  heard  a  noise  at 
his  stable,  and  stepped  out  to  ascertain  the  cause, 
and  the  Indians,  coming  between  him  and  the 
door,  intercepted  his  return.  He  fled,  but  was  fired 
upon,  and  wounded.  He  reached  a  cave,  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  from  his  house,  out  of  which,  already 
weltering  in  his  blood,  he  was  dragged  and  mur- 
dered. Having  done  this,  they  returned  to  the 
house,  to  despatch  his  wife  and  children.  Mrs. 
Mason,  unconscious  of  the  fate  of  her  husband, 
heard  them  talking  to  each  other  as  they  ap- 
proached the  house.  At  first,  she  was  delighted 
with  the  hope  that  her  neighbours,  aroused  by 
the  firing,  had  come  to  her  assistance.  But,  per- 
ceiving that  the  conversation  was  neither  in 
English  nor  German,  the  language  of  her  neigh- 


156 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND  THE 


bours,  she  instantly  inferred  that  they  were  sav- 
ages, coming  to  attack  the  house. 

The  heroine  had,  that  very  morning,  learned 
how  the  double  trigger  of  a  rifle  was  set.  Fortu- 
nately, the  children  were  not  awakened  by  the 
firing ;  and  she  took  care  not  to  awaken  them. 
She  shut  the  door,  and  barred  it  with  benches  and 
tables,  and  took  down  the  well-charged  rifle  of 
ber  husband.  She  placed  herself  directly  oppo- 
site the  opening  which  would  be  made  by  forcing 
the  door.  Her  husband  came  not,  and  she  was 
too  well  aware  that  he  was  slain.  She  was  alone, 
in  the  darkness.  The  yelling  savages  were  with- 
out, pressing  upon  the  house.  She  took  counsel 
horn  her  own  magnanimity,  heightened  by  affec- 
tion for  her  children,  that  were  sleeping  uncon- 
sciously around  her.  The  Indians,  pushing  with 
great  violence,  gradually  opened  the  door  suffi- 
ciently wide  to  attempt  an  entrance.  The  body  of 
one  was  thrust  into  the  opening,  and  just  filled  it. 
He  was  struggling  for  admittance.  Two  or  three 
more,  directly  behind  him,  were  propelling  him 
forward.  She  set  the  trigger  of  the  rifle,  put  the 
muzzle  near  the  body  of  the  foremost,  and  in  such 
a  direction  that  the  ball,  after  passing  through  his 
body,  would  penetrate  those  behind.  She  fired. 
The  first  Indian  fell.  The  next  one  uttered  the 
scream  of  mortal  agony.  This  intrepid  woman 
saw  the  policy  of  profound  silence.  She  observed 
it.  The  Indians,  in  consequence,  were  led  to 
believe  that  armed  men  were  in  the  house.  They 
■withdrew,  took  three  horses  from  the  stable,  and 
set  It  on  fire.  It  was  afterwards  ascertained 
nbat  this  high-minded  widow  had  saved  herself 
and  her  children  from  the  attack  of  twenty-five 
assailants ! 


JNTERESTING   INCIDENT  OF  OUR  NATIONAL 
HISTORY. 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON,  having  brought 
the  war  of  the  Revolution  to  an  honorable 
dose,  retired  to  private  life.  On  the  adoption  of 
the  federal  constitution,  he  was  twice  unanimously 
elected  to  preside  as  chief  magistrate ;  when,  at 
the  end  of  eight  years,  he  voluntarily  resigned, 
and  returned  to  his  estate  on  Mount  Vernon. 
John  Adams,  a  memorable  patriot  of  the  Revolu- 
tion, was  chosen  by  the  suffrage  of  the  people  to 
succeed  him  as  President  of  the  United  States ; 
aad  his  inauguration  took  place  in  the  hall  of 
Congress,  south-east  comer  of  Sixth  and  Chest- 


nut streets,  Philadelphia,  4th  March,  1797.  At 
an  early  hour,  the  lobbies  and  gallery  were  well 
"wedged"  with  spectators.  The  floor  of  the 
house  was  occupied  by  the  members,  ladies,  and 
other  privileged  persons,  as  on  all  similar  occa- 
sions, who  silently  and  anxiously  waited  the  com- 
ing scene.  On  that  day,  Thomas  Jefferson  was  to 
appear  as  Vice-President,  and  George  Washington 
a  private  citizen.  The  first  novelty  that  presented 
itself  was  the  entrance  of  the  Spanish  minister, 
(the  Marquis  Yrugo,)  in  full  diplomatic  costume. 
He  was  of  middle  size,  of  round  person,  florid 
complexion,  and  hair  powdered  like  a  snowball — 
dark  striped  silk  coat,  lined  with  satin,  white 
waistcoat,  black  silk  breeches,  white  silk  stock- 
ings, shoes  and  buckles — he  had  by  his  side  an 
elegant  hilted  small  sword,  and  his  "chapeau," 
tipped  with  white  feathers,  under  his  arm.  Thus 
decorated,  he  crossed  the  floor  of  the  hall  with 
the  most  easy  nonchalance  possible,  and  an  occa- 
sional side  toss  of  the  head,  (to  him  habitual,)  to 
his  appointed  place.  He  was  viewed  by  the  audi- 
ence for  a  short  time  in  curious  silence.  He  had 
scarcely  adjusted  himself  in  his  chair,  when  the 
attention  of  the  audience  was  roused  by  the  word 
"Washington,"  near  the  door  of  the  entrance. 
The  word  flew  like  lightning  through  the  as- 
sembly, and  the  subsequent  varied  shouts  of  en- 
thusiasm produced  immediately  such  a  sound  as 
"When  loud  surges  lash  the  sounding  shore.  " 
It  was  an  unexpected  and  instantaneous  ex- 
pression of  "simultaneous"  feeling,  which  made 
the  hall  tremble.  Occasionally,  the  word 
"Washington!  Washington!"  might  be  heard 
like  guns  in  a  storm.  He  entered  in  the  midst,  and 
crossed  the  floor  at  ' '  quick  step, "  as  if  eager  to  es- 
capenotice,  and  seated  himself  quickly  on  his  chair, 
near  "the  Marquis  Yrugo,"  who  rose  up  at  his 
entrance,  as  if  startled  by  the  uncommon  scene. 
He  was  dressed  similarly  to  all  the  full-length 
portraits  of  him,  hair  full  -powdered,  with  black 
silk  rose  and  bag  pendent  behind,  as  then  was 
usual  for  elderly  gentlemen  of  the  "old  school." 
But  on  those  portraits,  one  who  had  never  seen 
Washington  might  look  in  vain  for  that  benign 
expression  of  countenance  possessed  by  him,  and 
only  sufficiently  perceptible  in  the  lithographic 
bust  of  Rembrandt  Peale  to  cause  "a  feeling,"  as 
Judge  Peters,  in  his  certificate  to  the  painter,  ex- 
presses it.  The  burst  ac  the  entrance-door  had 
now   subsided,    when    the    word     "Jefferson!" 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


157 


again  electrified  the  audience  into  another  explo- 
sion of  feeling,  similar  to  the  "first,  but  abated  in 
force  and  energy.  He  entered,  dressed  in  a  long 
blue  frock-coat,  single-breasted,  and  buttoned 
down  to  the  waist — light,  sandy  hair,  very 
slightly  powdered,  and  cued  with  black  ribbon  a 
long  way  down  his  back ;  tall,  of  benign  aspect, 
and  straight  as  an  arrow;  he  bent  not,  but, 
with  an  erect  gait,  moved  leisurely  to  his  seat, 
near  Washington,  and  sat  down.  Silence  again 
ensued. 

Presently,  an  increased  bustle  near  the  door  of 
the  entrance,  and  the  words,  "President!" 
"President  Adams!"  again  produced  an  ex- 
plosion of  feeling  similar  to  those  that  had  pre- 
ceded, but  again  diminished,  by  repetition,  in  its 
force  and  energy.  He  was  dressed  in  a  suit  of 
light  drab  cloth,  his  hair  well  powdered,  with 
rose  and  bag,  like  that  of  Washington.  He 
passed  slowly  on,  bowing  on  each  side,  till  he 
reached  the  "speaker's  chair,"  on  which  he  sat 
down.  Again  a  deep  silence  prevailed,  in  the 
midst  of  which  he  rose,  and  bowing  round  to  the 
audience  three  times,  varying  his  position  each 
time — he  then  read  his  inaugural  address,  in  the 
course  of  which  he  alluded  to,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  bowed  to  his  predecessor,  which  was  re- 
turned from  Washington,  who,  with  the  members 
of  Congress,  were  all  standing.  When  he  had 
finished,  he  sat  down ;  after  a  short  pause,  he  rose 
up,  and,  bowing  round  as  before,  he  descended 
from  the  chair,  and  passed  out  with  acclamation. 
Washington  and  Jefferson  remained,  standing  to- 
gether, and  the  bulk  of  the  audience  watching 
their  movements  in  cautious  silence.  Presently, 
with  a  graceful  motion  of  the  hand,  Washington 
invited  the  Vice-President,  Jefferson,  to  pass  on 
before  him,  which  was  declined  by  Mr.  Jefferson. 
After  a  pause,  an  invitation  to  proceed  was  re- 
peated by  Washington,  when  the  Vice-President 
passed  on  towards  the  door,  and  Washington 
after  him.  A  rush  for  the  street  now  commenced, 
and  the  next  view  of  Washington,  the  "beheld 
of  all  beholders,"  was  on  the  north  side  of  Chest- 
nut street,  going  down,  with  the  crowd  after  him, 
and  Timothy  Pickering  on  his  right,  to 
"Francis's  Hotel,"  on  a  visit  of  congratulation  to 
the  President  elect.  On  his  arrival  at  the  hotel, 
in  Fourth  street,  above  Chestnut,  they  passed  in, 
and  the  door  was  closely  "wedged  in"  with 
people  desirous  of  beholding^    to  the   last   the 


person  of  Washington,  now  passing  away  from 
them,  and  to  be  seen  by  them  no  more  for- 
ever. When  the  door  closed,  another  explosion 
of  feeling  from  the  assembled  throng  produced  a 
sound  like  thunder.  The  effect  was  such  that 
the  door  of  the  hotel  again  opened,  and  again 
Washington,  (to  them)  "first  in  war,  first  in 
peace,  and  first  in  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen, " 
stood  uncovered  before  them.  A  deep  silence  en- 
sued. He  then  bowed  three  times  to  the  specta- 
tors, varying  his  position  each  time,  which  was 
returned  with  a  shout  by  the  crowd,  and  a  clap- 
ping of  hands.  Having  done  so,  he  slowly  re- 
tired, seemingly  in  much  agitation,  within  the 
door,  and  the  grateful  assembly  gradually  disap- 
peared. 


ANECDOTE  ATTRIBUTED  TO  JOHN  ADAMS. 

BEFORE  our  country  took  a  stand  among  the 
nations  of  Europe,  and  while  we  were  suf- 
fering by  depredations  on  every  hand,  the  vener- 
able John  Adams  remarked,  that  the  situation  of 
the  United  States  reminded  him  of  the  condition 
of  Daniel  Defoe's  game-cock — who,  on  being  in  a. 
stable  with  a  number  of  horses,  exclaimed,  "  Take 
care,  gentlemen ;  don't  let  us  tread  upon  one  an- 
other!" 


EMMETT'S     LAST     INTERVIEW     WITH     THE 
WOMAN  HE  LOVED: 

THE  evening  before  his  death,  while  the  work- 
men were  busy  with  the  scaffold,  a  young 
lady  was  ushered  into  his  dungeon.  It  was  the 
girl  whom  he  so  fondly  loved,  and  who  had  now 
come  to  bid  him  her  eternal  farewell.  He  was 
leaning,  in  a  melancholy  mood,  against  the  win- 
dow-frame of  his  prison,  and  the  heavy  clanking 
of  his  irons  smote  dismally  on  her  heart.  The 
interview  was  bitterly  affecting,  and  melted  even 
the  callous  soul  of  the  jailer.  As  for  Emmett,  he 
wept  and  spoke  little ;  but,  as  he  pressed  his  be- 
loved in  silence  to  his  bosom,  his  countenance  be- 
trayed his  emotions.  In  a  low  voice,  half-choked 
by  anguish,  he  besought  her  not  to  forget  him; 
he  reminded  her  of  their  former  happiness,  of  the 
long-past  days  of  their  childhood,  and  concluded 
by  requesting  her  sometimes  to  visit  the  scenes 
where  their  infancy  was  spent,  and,  though  the 
world  might  repeat  his  name  with  scorn,  to  cling 
to  his  memory  with  affection.  At  this  very  in- 
stant, the  evening  bell  pealed  from  the  neighbor- 


158 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


ing  church.  Ernmett  started  at  the  sound !  and 
as  he  felt  that  this  was  the  last  time  he  should 
ever  hear  its  dismal  echoes,  he  folded  his  beloved 
still  closer  to  his  heart,  and  bent  over  her  sinking 
form  with  eyes  streaming  with  affection.  The 
turnkey  entered  at  the  moment ;  ashamed  of  his 
weakness,  he  dashed  the  rising  drop  from  his  eye, 
and  a  frown  again  lowered  on  his  countenance. 
The  man,  meanwhile,  approached  to  tear  the  lady 
from  his  embraces.  Overcome  by  his  feelings,  he 
could  make  no  resistance  ;  but,  as  he  gloomily  re- 
leased her  from  his  hold,  gave  her  a  little  minia- 
ture of  himself,  and,  with  this  parting  token  of 
attachment,  he  imprinted  the  last  kisses  of  a 
dying  man  upon  her  lips.  On  gaining  the  door, 
she  turned  round,  as  if  to  gaze  once  more  on  the 
object  of  her  widowed  love.  He  caught  her  eye 
as  she  retired — it  was  but  for  a  moment ;  the  dun- 
geon-door swung  back  upon  its  hinges ;  and  as  it 
closed  after  her,  informed  him  too  surely,  that 
thev  had  met  for  the  last  time  on  earth. 


the  agreed  sum. "  "  There  is  an  order  for  them," 
said  the  emperor,  "and  here  is  another,  for  an 
equal  sum,  for  the  fright  that  I  have  given  you." 


NAPOLEON  AND  THE  COAT   OF   MAIL. 

JUST  before  Napoleon  set  out  for  the  court  of 
Belgium,  he  sent  to  the  cleverest  artisan 
of  his  class  in  Paris,  and  demanded  of  him  whether 
he  would  engage  to  make  a  coat  of  mail,  to  be 
worn  under  the  ordinary  dress,  which  should  be 
absolutely  bullet-proof;  and  that  if  so,  he  might 
name  his  own  price  for  such  a  work.  The  man 
engaged  to  make  the  desired  object,  if  allowed 
proper  time,  and  he  named  eighteen  thousand 
francs  as  the  price  of  it.  The  bargain  was  con- 
cluded, and  in  due  time  the  work  was  produced, 
and  its  maker  honored  with  a  second  audience  of 
the  emperor.  "  Now,"  said  his  imperial  majesty, 
"put  it  on."  The  man  did  so.  "As  I  am  to 
stake  my  life  on  its  efficacy,  you  will,  I  suppose, 
have  no  objections  to  do  the  same."  And  he  took 
a  brace  of  pistols,  and  prepared  to  discharge  one 
of  them  at  the  breast  of  the  astonished  artisan. 
There  was  no  retreating,  however,  and,  half-dead 
with  fear,  he  stood  the  fire,  and,  to  the  infinite 
credit  of  his  work,  with  perfect  impunity.  But 
the  emperor  was  not  content  with  one  trial ;  he 
fired  the  second  pistol  at  the  back  of  the  trembling 
artisan,  and  afterwards  discharged  a  fowling-piece 
at  another  part  of  him,  with  similar  effect. 
"Well,"  said  the  emperor,  "you  have  produced 
a  capital  work,  undoubtedly — what  is  the  price  of 
it  ?  "     "  Eighteen  thousand  francs  were  named  as 


GENERAL  PUTNAM'S  IDEA  OF  DUELLING. 

CHIS  brave  old  soldier  and  hero  of  many 
battles  was  opposed  to  duelling  on  principle. 
He  justly  regarded  it  as  a  barbarous  and  cowardly 
practice.  On  a  certain  occasion  he  unintention- 
ally affronted  a  brother  officer,  and  was  called  to 
account  for  it.  The  dispute  arose  at  a  wine-table, 
and  the  officer  demanded  instant  reparation. 
Putnam,  being  a  little  elevated,  expressed  his  will- 
ingness to  accommodate  the  gentleman  with  a 
fight ;  and  it  was  stipulated  that  the  duel  should 
take  place  on  the  following  morning,  and  that 
they  should  fight  without  seconds.  At  the  ap- 
pointed time,  the  officer  advanced  to  the  ground, 
armed  with  sword  and  pistols.  On  entering  the 
field,  Putnam,  who  had  taken  a  stand  at  the  op- 
posite extremity,  and  at  a  distance  of  about  thirty 
rods,  levelled  his  musket,  and  fired  at  him.  The 
gentleman  now  ran  towards  his  antagonist,  who 
deliberately  proceeded  to  reload  his  gun. 

' '  What  are  you  about  to  do  ? "  exclaimed  he  ; 
' '  Is  this  the  conduct  of  an  American  officer  and 
a  man  of  honor  ? ' ' 

' '  What  are  you  about  to  do  ?  "  exclaimed  the 
general,  attending  only  to  the  first  question  ;  "A 
pretty  question  to  put  to  a  man  whom  you  in- 
tended to  murder.  I'm  about  to  kill  you,  and  if 
you  don't  beat  a  retreat  in  less  time  than  'twould 
take  old  Heath  to  hang  a  Tory,  you  are  a  gone 
dog;"  at  the  same  time  returning  his  ramrod  to 
its  place,  and  throwing  the  breech  of  his  gun  into 
the  hollow  of  his  shoulder. 

This  intimation  was  too  unequivocal  to  be  mis- 
understood, and  our  valorous  duellist  turned  and 
fled  for  life. 


SINGULAR    INCIDENT    ABOUT     MAJ.    ANDRE. 

IT  is  certainly  a  very  singular  circumstance  that 
Andre  should,  in  a  very  satirical  poem,  have 
foretold  his  own  fate.  It  was  called  the  "  Cow 
Ckase,"  and  was  published  by  Rivington,  at  New 
York,  in  consequence  of  the  failure  of  an  expedi- 
tion undertaken  by  Wayne  for  the  purpose  of 
collecting  cattle.  Great  liberties  are  taken  with 
the  American  officers  employed  on  the  occasion, 
— with 

Harry  Lee,   and  his  dragoons,   and  Proctor  with  his 
cannon. 


,r- 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


159 


But  the  point  of  his  irony  seemed  particularly 
aimed  at  Wayne,  whose  entire  baggage,  he 
asserts,  was  taken,  containing 

His  Congress  dollars  and  his  prog, 

His  military  speeches ; 
His  cornstalk  whiskey  for  his  grog, 

Black  stockings  and  blue  breeches. 

And  concludes  by  observing,  that  it  is  necessary 
to  check  the  current  of  satire, 

Lest  the  same  warrior-drover  Wayne 
Should  catch — and  hang  the  poet. 

He  was  actually  taken  by  a  party  from  the 
division  of  the  army  immediately  under  the  com- 
mand of  Wayne. 


WESTERN    HOSPITALITY. 

mR.  OGILVIE,  formerly  so  well  known  in 
Virginia  as  a  supporter  of  the  Godwenian 
philosophy,  conceiving  a  vehement  desire  to  see 
the  Western  country,  set  off  from  Richmond,  for 
Lexington,  in  Kentucky.  It  was  in  the  month 
of  October,  after  a  most  lonely  and  wearisome 
day's  ride,  that,  a  little  before  sunset,  he  came  to 
a  small  cabin  on  the  road,  and,  fearing  he  should 
find  no  other  opportunity  of  procuring  refresh- 
ment for  himself  and  his  jaded  horse,  he  stopped 
and  inquired  if  he  could  be  accommodated  for  the 
night.  An  old  woman,  the  only  person  he  saw, 
civilly  answering  him  in  the  affirmative,  he  gladly 
alighted,  and  going  in  to  a  tolerable  fire,  enjoyed 
the  luxury  of  rest,  while  his  hostess  was  discharg- 
ing the  duties  of  ostler  and  cook.  In  no  long 
time,  she  set  before  him  a  supper  of  comfortable, 
but  homely  fare,  of  which  having  liberally  par- 
taken, and  giving  divers  significant  nods,  the  old 
woman  remarked  she  ' '  expected  "  he  "  chose 
bed,"  and,  pointing  to  one  which  stood  in  the 
corner  of  the  room,  immediately  went  into  the 
yard  awhile,  to  give  him  an  opportunity  of  un- 
dressing. Before  he  had  been  long  in  bed,  and 
while  he  was  congratulating  himself  on  his  good 
fortune,  the  latch  of  the  door  was  drawn,  and 
there  entered  a  dark-looking  man,  of  gigantic 
stature  and  form,  with  stiff,  black  hair,  eyebrows, 
and  beard.  He  was  apparently  about  eight-and- 
twenty,  was  dressed  in  a  brown  hunting  shirt, 
which  partly  concealed  a  pair  of  dirty  buckskin 
overalls,  and  he  wore  moccasins  of  the  same  ma- 
terial. Mr.  O.  thought  he  had  never  seen  any- 
thing half  so  ferocious.     As  soon  as  this  man 


entered  the  room,  his  mother,  for  so  she  proved 
to  be,  pointing  to  the  bed,  motioned  him  to  make 
no  noise ;  on  which,  with  inaudible  steps,  he  ' 
walked  to  the  chimney,  put  his  gun  upon  a  rude 
rack  provided  for  that  and  other  arms,  and  sat 
softly  down  to  the  fire,  then  throwing  a  bright 
blaze  around  the  room. 

Our  traveller,  not  liking  the  looks  of  the  new- 
comer, and  not  caring  to  be  teazed  by  conversa- 
tion, drew  his  head  under  the  bed-clothes,  so  that 
he  could  see  what  was  passing,  without  leaving 
his  own  face  visible.  The  two  soon  entered  into 
conversation,  but  in  so  low  a  voice,  that  Mr.  O. 
could  not  distinguish  what  was  said.  His  powers 
of  attention  were  wrought  up  to  the  most  painful 
pitch  of  intensity.  At  length,  the  man,  looking 
towards  the  bed,  made  some  remark  to  his 
mother,  to  which  Mr.  O.  heard  her  reply,  "  No,  I 
hardly  think  he's  asleep  yet," — and  they  again 
conversed  in  a  low  voice,  as  before.  After  a  short 
interval,  while  the  man  sat  with  his  feet  stretched 
out  towards  the  fire,  on  which  he  was  intently 
gazing— 

"Don't  you  think  he's  asleep  now?"  he  was 
heard  to  say. 

"Stop,"  says  she,  "I'll  go  and  see;"  and, 
moving  near  the  bed,  under  the  pretext  of  taking 
something  from  a  small  table,  she  approached  so 
near  as  to  see  the  face  of  our  traveller,  whose  eyes 
were  indeed  closed,  but  who  was  anything  but 
asleep.  On  her  return  to  the  fireplace,  she  said, 
"  Yes,  he's  fast  asleep  now." 

On  this,  the  mountaineer,  rising  from  his  stool, 
reached  up  to  the  rack,  and  taking  down,  with 
his  right  hand,  an  old  greasy  cutlass,  walked  with 
the  same  noiseless  step  towards  the  traveller's 
bed,  and,  stretching  out  the  other  hand,  at  the 
moment  that  Mr.  O.  was  about  to  implore  his 
pity,  took  down  a  venison  ham  which  hung  on 
the  wall  near  the  head  of  the  bed,  walked  softly 
back  to  the  fire,  and  began  to  slice  some  pieces 
for  his  supper ;  and  Mr.  O.,  who  lay  more  dead 
than  alive,  and  whose  romantic  fancy  heightened 
the  terrors  of  all  he  saw,  had  the  unspeakable 
gratification  to  find  that  these  kind-hearted  chil- 
dren of  the  forest  had  been  talking  low,  and  that 
the  hungry  hunter,  who  had  eaten  nothing  since 
the  morning,  had  foreborne  making  a  noise,  lest 
they  should  interrupt  the  slumbers  of  their  way- 
worn guest.  The  next  day,  Mr.  O.,  who  was  an 
enthusiast  in  physiognomy,  discovered  remark- 


160 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


able  benevolence  in  the  features  of  the  hunter, 
which,  by  the  false  and  deceitful  glare  of  the  fire- 
light, had  escaped  him,  and  in  his  recital  of  this 
adventure,  which  furnished  him  with  a  favorite 
occasion  of  exercising  his  powers  of  declamation 
to  great  advantage,  in  a  matter  of  real  life,  he 
often  declared  that  he  had  never  taken  a  more 
refreshing  night's  rest,  or  made  a  more  grateful 
repast,  than  he  had  done  in  this  humble  cottage. 
We  cannot  forbear  to  add  that  the  subject  of 
our  memoir  was  reserved  for  a  different,  though 
not  less  tragical  fate,  than  that  which  seemed  here 
to  threaten  him.  After  having  been  an  object  of 
criticism  or  admiration,  as  a  professed  rhetorician 
and  declaimer,  in  all  the  principal  cities  of  the 
Union — after  trying  his  oratorical  powers  in  the 
Surrey  Institute — after  encountering,  in  various 
forms,  disappointment,  obloquy,  and,  to  use  one 
of  his  own  alliterations,  the  miseries  of  debt  and 
destitution,  he  became  heir  to  a  title  and  a  large 
estate  in  Scotland,  and,  unable  either  to  do  with- 
out the  use  of  opium,  or  to  bear  that  deterioration 
of  the  faculties  which  its  habitual  use  superin- 
duced, he  very  soon  afterwards  put  an  end  to  his 
weary  existence,  by  a  pistol. 


DEATH  OF  HAMILTON. 

IN  the  year  1804,  General  Hamilton,  who  had 
just  been  appointed  ambassador  from  the 
United  States  to  Paris,  got  involved  in  a  political 
dispute  with  Colonel  Aaron  Burr,  then  Vice- 
President.  Dr.  Cooper  had  published  a  pamphlet, 
in  which  he  said,  "General  Hamilton  and  Dr. 
Kent  say,  that  they  consider  Colonel  Burr  as  a 
dangerous  man,  and  one  unfit  to  be  trusted  with 
the  reins  of  government. ' '  In  another  place  the 
same  writer  says,  "General  Hamilton  has  ex- 
pressed of  Colonel  Burr  opinions  still  more  de- 
spicable. ' ' 

The  last  passage  excited  the  resentment  of  Col- 
onel Burr,  who  demanded  from  General  Hamilton 
"a  prompt  and  unqualified  acknowledgment  or 
denial  of  the  expression,  which  could  justify  this 
interference  on  the  part  of  Dr.  Cooper. ' '  General 
Hamilton  admitted  the  first  statement,  which  he 
contended  was  fairly  within  the  bounds  prescribed 
in  cases  of  political  animosity,  and  objected  to 
being  called  on  to  retract  every  conversation  which 
he  had  held  either  publicly  or  confidentially  in 
the  course  of  fifteen  years'  opposition.  This  would 


not  satisfy  Colonel  Burr,  who  demanded  satisfac- 
tion, and  a  meeting. 

On  the  evening  before  the  duel,  General  Hamil- 
ton made  his  will,  in  which  he  enclosed  a  paper, 
containing  his  opinions  of  duelling,  and  expres- 
sive of  the  reluctance  with  which  he  obeyed  a 
custom  so  repugnant  to  his  feelings.     He  says  : 

"  On  my  expected  interview  with  Colonel  Burr, 
I  think  proper  to  make  some  remarks,  explanatory 
of  my  conduct,  motives,  and  views.  I  was  cer- 
tainly desirous  of  avoiding  this  interview,  for  the 
most  cogent  reasons. 

"First.  My  religious  and  moral  principles  are 
strongly  opposed  to  the  practice  of  duelling  ;  and 
it  would  ever  give  me  pain  to  shed  the  blood  of  a 
fellow-creature,  in  a  private  combat,  forbidden  by 
the  laws. 

' '  Secondly.  My  wife  and  children  are  extremely 
dear  to  me  ;  and  my  life  is  of  the  utmost  impor- 
tance to  them,  in  various  views. 

"  Thirdly.  I  feel  a  sense  of  obligation  towards 
my  creditors,  who,  in  case  of  accident  to  me,  by 
the  forced  sale  of  my  property,  may  be  in  some 
degree  sufferers.  I  did  not  think  myself  at  lib- 
erty, as  a  man  of  probity,  lightly  to  expose  them 
to  hazard. 

' '  Fourthly.  I  am  conscious  of  no  ill-will  to- 
Colonel  Burr,  distinct  from  political  opposition, 
which,  as  I  trust,  has  proceeded  from  pure  and 
upright  motives. 

"  Lastly.  I  shall  hazard  much,  and  can  possibly 
gain  nothing,  by  the  issue  of  the  interview." 

The  parties  met,  and  Colonel  Burr's  shot  took 
fatal  effect.  General  Hamilton  had  determined 
not  to  return  the  fire,  but,  on  receiving  the  shock 
of  a  mortal  wound,  his  pistol  went  off  involunta- 
rily in  an  opposite  direction.  Few  individuals- 
died  more  lamented  than  General  Hamilton, 
whose  funeral  at  New  York  was  observed  at  that 
place  with  unusual  respect  and  ceremony.  All 
the  public  functionaries  attended  ;  the  bells,  muf- 
fled, tolled  during  the  day  ;  all  business  was  sus 
pended,  and  the  principal  inhabitants  wore 
mourning  for  six  weeks.  No  other  death  since 
that  of  Washington  filled  the  republic  with  such 
deep  and  universal  regret. 


DEATH  OF  SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH. 

IN  the  year  16 15,  Raleigh  was  liberated  from  the 
Tower,  in  consequence  of  having  projected  a 
second  expedition  to  Guiana,  from  which  the  king 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


161 


hoped  to  derive  some  profit.  His  purpose  was  to 
colonize  the  country,  and  work  gold  mines  ;  and 
in  1617  a  fleet  of 
twelve  armed  ves- 
sels sailed  under 
Raleigh's  com- 
mand. The  whole 
details  of  his  in- 
tended proceed- 
ings, however, 
were  weakly  and 
treacherously 
communicated  by 
the  king  to  the 
Spanish  govern- 
ment, by  whom 
the  scheme  was 
miserably  thwart- 
ed. Returning  to 
England,  Raleigh 
landed  at  Ply- 
mouth, and  on  his 
way  to  London 
was  arrested  in  the 
king's  name.  At 
this  time  the  pro- 
jected  marriage 
between  Prince 
Charles  and  the 
Infanta  of  Spain 
occupied  James's 
attention,  and  to 
propitiate  the 
Spanish  govern- 
ment, he  deter- 
mined that  Ra- 
leigh must  be  sac- 
rificed.  After 
many  vain  a  t  - 
tempts  to  discover 
valid  grounds  for 
accusation  against 
him,  it  was  found 
necessary  to  pro- 
ceed upon  the  old 
sentence,  and  Ra- 
leigh was  accord - 
inglj'  beheaded  on 
the  29th  of  Oc- 
tober, 161 8.  On  the  scaffold  his  behavior  was 
firm  and  calm  ;  after  addressing  the  people  in 
11 


justification  of  his  character  and  conduct,  he  took 
up  the  axe,  and  observed  to  the  sheriff,  "  This  is 


SIR   WALTER   RALEIGH    BEING    LED   TO    EXECUTION. 

a  sharp  medicine,  but  a  sound  cure  for  all  dis- 
eases."     Having  tried  how  the   block  fitted  his 


162 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


head,  he  told  the  executioner  that  he  would  give 
the  signal  by  lifting  up  his  hand  ;  "  and  then," 
added  he,  "  fear  not,  but  strike  home  !"  He  then 
laid  himself  down,  but  was  requested  by  the  exe- 
cutioner to  alter  the  position  of  his  head  :  "So 
the  heart  be  right,"  was  his  reply,  "it  is  no  mat- 
ter which  way  the  head  lies."  On  the  signal 
being  given,  the  executioner  failed  to  act  with 
promptitude,  which  caused  Raleigh  to  exclaim, 
"  Why  dost  thou  not  strike?  Strike,  man!"  By 
two  strokes,  which  he  received  without  shrink- 
ing, the  head  of  this  intrepid  man  was  severed 
from  his  body. 

The  night  before  his  execution,  he  composed 
the  following  verses  in  prospect  of  death  : 

Even  such  is  Time,  that  takes  on  trust 
Our  youth,  our  joys,  our  all  we  have, 

And  pays  us  but  with  age  and  dust ; 
Who  in  the  dark  and  silent  grave, 

When  we  have  wandered  all  our  ways, 

Shuts  up  the  story  of  our  days  ! 

While  in  prison,  in  expectation  of  death,  either 
on  this  or  the  former  occasion,  he  wrote  also  a 
tender  and  affectionate  valedictory  letter  to  his 
wife,  of  which  the  following  is  a  portion  : 

' '  You  shall  receive,  my  dear  wife,  my  last  words 
in  these  my  last  lines  ;  my  love  I  send  you,  that 
you  may  keep  when  I  am  dead,  and  my  counsel, 
that  you  may  remember  it  when  I  am  no  more. 
I  would  not  with  my  will  present  you  sorrows, 
dear  Bess  ;  let  them  go  to  the  grave  with  me,  and 
be  buried  in  the  dust.  And  seeing  that  it  is  not 
the  will  of  God  that  I  shall  see  you  any  more, 
bear  my  destruction  patiently,  and  with  a  heart 
like  yourself. 

"First,  I  send  you  all  the  thanks  which  my 
heart  can  conceive,  or  my  words  express,  for  your 
many  travails  and  cares  for  me,  which,  though 
they  have  not  taken  as  you  wished,  yet  my  debt 
to  you  is  not  the  less  ;  but  pay  it  I  never  shall  in 
this  world. 

"  Secondly,  I  beseech  you,  for  the  love  you  bear 
me  living,  that  you  do  not  hide  yourself  many 
days,  but  by  your  travails  seek  to  help  my  miser- 
able fortunes,  and  the  right  of  your  poor  child  ; 
your  mourning  cannot  avail  me,  that  am  but 
dust. 

"  Paylie  oweth  me  a  thousand  pounds,  and 
Aryan  six  hundred  ;  in  Jersey,  also,  I  have  much 
owing    me.      Dear  wife,   I  beseech  you,   for  my 


soul's  sake,  pay  all  poor  men.  When  I  am  dead, 
no  doubt  you  shall  be  much  sought  unto ;  for  the 
world  thinks  I  was  very  rich  ;  have  a  care  to 
the  fair  pretences  of  men,  for  no  greater  misery 
can  befall  you  in  this  life  than  to  become  a  prey 
unto  the  world,  and  after  to  be  despised.  I  speak, 
God,  knows,  not  to  dissuade  you  from  marriage, 
for  it  will  be  best  for  you,  both  in  respect  of  God 
and  the  world.  As  for  me,  I  am  no  more  yours, 
nor  you  mine  ;  death  hath  cut  us  asunder,  and  God 
hath  divided  me  from  the  world,  and  you  from  me. 
Remember  your  poor  child  for  his  father's  sake, 
who  loved  you  in  his  happiest  estate.  I  sued  for 
life,  but,  God  knows,  it  was  for  you  and  yours 
that  I  desired  it  ;  for  know  it,  my  dear  wife,  your 
child  is  the  child  of  a  true  man,  who,  in  his  own 
respect,  despiseth  death,  and  his  mis-shapen  and 
ugly  forms.  I  cannot  write  much  (God  knows 
how  hardly  I  steal  this  time  when  all  sleep),  and 
it  is  also  time  forme  to  separate  my  thoughts  from 
the  world.  Beg  my  dead  body,  which  living  was 
denied  you,  and  either  la}-  it  in  Sherburn  or  Exe- 
ter church,  by  my  father  and  mother.  I  can  say 
no  more,  time  and  death  calleth  me  away.  The 
everlasting  God,  powerful,  infinite  and  inscrutable 
God  Almighty,  who  is  goodness  itself,  the  true 
light  and  life,  keep  you  and  yours,  and  have 
mercy  upon  me,  and  forgive  my  persecutors  and 
false  accusers,  send  us  to  meet  in  His  glorious 
kingdom.  My  dear  wife,  farewell ;  bless  my  boy, 
pray  for  me,  and  let  my  true  God  hold  you  both 
in  his  arms." 


BATTLE    OF    THERMOPYLAE. 

A  GOOD  idea  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  style  as 
a  historian  can  be  obtained  in  the  reading  of 
his  account  of  the  battle  of  Thermopylae,  as 
follows  : 

' '  After  such  time  as  Xerxes  had  transported 
his  army  over  the  Hellespont,  and  landed  in 
Thrace  (leaving  the  description  of  his  passage 
alongst  that  coast,  and  how  the  river  of  L/issus  was 
drunk  dry  by  his  multitudes,  and  the  lake  near  to 
Pissyrus  by  his  cattle,  with  other  accidents  in  his 
marches  towards  Greece),  I  will  speak  of  the  en- 
counters he  had,  and  the  shameful  and  incredible 
overthrows  which  he  received.  As  first  at  Ther- 
mopylae, a  narrow  passage  of  half  an  acre  of  ground, 
lying  between  the  mountains  which  divide  Thes- 
saly  from  Greece,  where  sometimes  the  Phoeni- 
cians had  raised  a  wall  with  gates,  which  was  then 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


163 


ior  the  most  part  ruined.  At  this  entrance, 
Leonidas,  one  of  the  kings  of  Sparta,  with  300 
Lacedaemonians,  assisted 
with  1000  Tegeatae  and 
Mantineans,  and  1000 
Arcadians,  and  other  Pe- 
loponnesians,  to  the  num- 
ber of  3100  in  the  whole  ; 
besides  100  Phocians,  400 
Thebans,  700  Thespians, 
and  all  the  forces  (such 
as  they  were)  of  the  bor- 
dering  Tocrians,  de- 
fended the  passage  two 
whole  days  together 
against  that  huge  army 
of  the  Persians.  The 
valor  of  the  Greeks  ap- 
peared so  excellent  in 
this  defence,  that,  in  the 
first  day's  fight,  Xerxes 
is  said  to  have  three  times 
leaped  out  of  his  throne, 
fearing  the  detructions 
of  his  army  by  one  hand- 
ful of  those  men  whom 
not  long  before  he  had 
utterly  despised:  and 
when  the  second  day's 
attempt  upon  the  Greeks 
had  proved  vain,  he  was 
altogether  ignorant  how 
to  proceed  further,  and 
so  might  have  continued, 
had  not  a  runagate  Gre- 
cian taught  him  a  secret 
way,  by  which  part  of  his 
army  might  ascend  the 
ledge  of  mountains,  and 
set  upon  the  backs  of 
those  who  kept  the 
straits.  But  when  the 
most  valiant  of  the  Per- 
sian army  had  almost  in- 
closed the  small  forces  of 
the  Greek  then  did  Leo- 
nidas, king  of  the  Lace- 
daemonians, with  his 
300,  and  700  Thespians, 
which  were  all  abode  by  him,  refuse  to  quit  the 
place  which  they  had  undertaken  to  make  good, 


and  with  admirable  courage,  not  only  resist  that 
world  of  men  which  charged  them  on  all  sides,  but, 


issuing  out  of  their  strength,   made   so   great  a 
slaughter  of  their  enemies,  that  they  might  be 


1G4 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


called  vanquishers,  though  all  of  them  were  slain  on 
the  place.  Xerxes  having  lost  in  this  last  fight, 
together  with  20,000  other  soldiers  and  captains, 
two  of  his  own  brethren,  began  to  doubt  what 
inconvenience  might  befall  him  by  the  virtue  of 
such  as  had  not  been  present  at  these  battles, 
with  whom  he  knew  that  he  shortly  was  to  deal. 
Especially  of  the  Spartans  he  stood  in  great  fear, 
whose  manhood  had  appeared  singular  in  this 
trial,  which  caused  him  very  carefully  to  inquire 
what  numbers  they  could  bring  into  the  field.  It 
is  reported  of  Dieneces,  the  Spartan,  that  when 
one  thought  to  have  terrified  him  by  saying  that 
the  flight  of  the  Persian  arrows  was  so  thick  as 
would  hide  the  sun,  he  answered  thus :  '  It  is 
very-  good  news,  for  then  shall  we  fight  in  the  cool 
shade.'  " 


SIR   WALTER   RALEIGH'S  RULES   OF  LIFE. 

AMONGST  all  other  things  of  the  world,  take 
care  of  thy  estate,  which  thou  shalt  ever 
preserve  if  thou  observe  three  things  :  first,  that 
thou  know  what  thou  hast,  what  even,-  thing  is 
worth  that  thou  hast,  and  to  see  that  thou  art  not 
wasted  by  thy  servants  and  officers.  The  second 
is,  that  thou  never  spend  anything  before  thou 
have  it ;  for  borrowing  is  the  canker  and  death 
of  every  man's  estate.  The  third  is,  that  thou 
suffer  not  thyself  to  be  wounded  for  other  men's 
faults,  and  scourged  for  other  men's  offences; 
which  is,  the  surety  for  another,  for  thereby  mill- 
ions of  men  have  been  beggared  and  destroyed, 
paying  the  reckoning  of  other  men's  riot,  and  the 
charge  of  other  men's  foil}-  and  prodigality  ;  if 
thou  smart,  smart  for  thine  own  sins  ;  and  above 
all  things,  be  not  made  an  ass  to  carry  the  bur- 
dens of  other  men  :  if  any  friend  desire  thee  to  be 
his  surety,  give  him  a  part  of  what  thou  hast  to 
spare  ;  if  he  press  thee  farther,  he  is  not  thy  friend 
at  all,  for  friendship  rather  choose th  harm  to 
itself  than  offereth  it.  If  thou  be  bound  for  a 
stranger,  thou  art  a  fool ;  if  for  a  merchant,  thou 
puttest  thy  estate  to  learn  to  swim  ;  if  for  a 
churchman,  he  hath  no  inheritance ;  if  for  a 
lawyer,  he  will  find  an  evasion  by  a  syllable  or 
word  to  abuse  thee  ;  if  for  a  poor  man,  thou  must 
pay  it  thyself ;  if  for  a  rich  man,  he  needs  not : 
therefore  from  suretyship,  as  from  a  man-slayer 
or  enchanter,  bless  thyself;  for  the  best  profit 
and  return  will  be  this,  that  if  thou  force  him  for 
whom  thou  art  bound,  to  pay  it  himself,  he  will 


become  thy  enemy  ;  if  thou  use  to  pay  it  thyself, 
thou  wilt  be  a  beggar  ;  and  believe  thy  father  in 
this,  and  print  it  in  thy  thought,  that  what  virtue 
soever  thou  hast,  be  it  never  so  manifold,  if  thou 
be  poor  withal,  thou  and  thy  qualities  shall  be  de- 
spised. Besides,  poverty  is  ofttimes  sent  as  a 
curse  of  God  ;  it  is  a  shame  amongst  men,  an  im- 
prisonment of  the  mind,  a  vexation  of  every 
worth)-  spirit :  thou  shalt  neither  help  thyself  nor 
others  ;  thou  shalt  drown  thee  in  all  thy  virtues, 
having  no  means  to  show  them  ;  thou  shalt  be  a 
burden  and  an  eyesore  to  th}-  friends,  every  man 
will  fear  thy  company  ;  thou  shalt  be  driven 
basely  to  beg  and  depend  on  others,  to  flatter  un- 
worthy men,  to  make  dishonest  shifts  ;  and,  to 
conclude,  poverty  provokes  a  man  to  do  infamous 
and  detested  deeds ;  let  no  vanity,  therefore,  or 
persuasion,  draw  thee  to  that  worst  of  worldly 
miseries. 

If  thou  be  rich,  it  will  give  thee  pleasure  in 
health,  comfort  in  sickness,  keep  thy  mind  and 
body  free,  save  thee  from  many  perils,  relieve  thee 
in  thy  elder  years,  relieve  the  poor  and  thy  honest 
friends,  and  give  means  to  thy  posterity  to  live, 
and  defend  themselves  and  thine  own  fame. 
Where  it  is  said  in  the  Proverbs,  "  That  he  shall 
be  sore  vexed  that  is  surety  for  a  stranger,  and  he 
that  hateth  suretyship  is  sure  ;  "  it  is  further  said, 
' '  The  poor  is  hated  even  of  his  own  neighbour, 
but  the  rich  have  many  friends."  Tend  not  to 
him  that  is  mightier  than  thyself,  for  if  thou  lend- 
est  him,  count  it  but  lost  ;  be  not  surety  above 
thy  power,  for  if  thou  be  surety,  think  to  pay  it. 


SPORTS  UPON    THE    ICE    IN   ELIZABETH'S 
REIGN. 

7TVE  select  the  following  unique  description  of 
\XJ  sports  on  the  ice,  during  Queen  Elizabeth's 
time,  from  the  writings  of  John  Stow,  a  pains- 
taking and  accurate  historian  of  that  period  : 

When  that  great  moor  which  washeth  Moor- 
fields,  at  the  north  wall  of  the  city,  is  frozen  over, 
great  companies  of  young  men  go  to  sport  upon 
the  ice  ;  then  fetching  a  run,  and  setting  their 
feet  at  a  distance,  and  placing  their  bodies  side- 
wise,  they  slide  a  great  way.  Others  take  heaps 
of  ice,  as  if  it  were  great  mill-stones,  and  make 
seats  ;  many  going  before,  draw  him  that  sits 
thereon,  holding  one  another  by  the  hand  in  going 
so  fast ;  some  slipping  with  their  feet,  all  fall  down 
together  :  some  are  better  practised  to  the  ice,  and 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


165 


bind  to  their  shoes  bones,  as  the  legs  of  some  beasts, 
and  hold  stakes  in  their  hands  headed  with  sharp 
iron,  which  sometimes  they  strike  against  the 
ice ;  and  these  men  go  on  with  speed  as  doth  a 
bird  in  the  air,  or  darts  shot  from  some  warlike 
engine  :  sometimes  two  men  set  themselves  at  a 
distance,  and  run  one  against  another,  as  it  were 
at  tilt,  with  these  stakes,  wherewith  one  or  both 
parties  are  thrown  down,  not  without  some  hurt 
to  their  bodies  ;  and  after  their  fall,  by  reason  of 
the  violent  motion,  are  carried  a  good  distance 
from  one  another  ;  and  wheresoever  the  ice  doth 
touch  their  head,  it  rubs  off  all  the  skin,  and  lajrs 
it  bare  ;  and  if  one  fall  upon  his  leg  or  arm,  it  is 
usually  broken  ;  but  the  young  men,  greedy  of 
honour,  and  desirous  of  victory,  do  thus  exercise 
themselves  in  counterfeit  battles,  that  they  may 
bear  the  brunt  more  strongly  when  the}'  come  to 
it  in  good  earnest. 


ORIGIN   OF  THE  ENGLISH  LANGUAGE. 

THE  writings  of  William  Harrison,  an  English 
clergyman  of  the  sixteenth  century,  are 
greatly  valued,  as  affording  an  interesting  picture 
of  the  state  of  the  country,  and  manners  of  the 
people,  of  that  period.  His  history  of  the  Eng- 
lish language  is  speciall}-  interesting  and  valuable, 
and  we  present  it  in  his  own  quaint  and  attractive 
style  : 

The  British  tongue  called  Cymric  doth  yet  re- 
main in  that  part  of  the  island  which  is  now 
called  Wales,  whither  the  Britons  were  driven 
after  the  Saxons  had  made  a  full  conquest  of  the 
other,  which  we  now  call  England,  although  the 
pristine  integrity  thereof  be  not  a  little  dimin- 
ished by  mixture  of  the  Latin  and  Saxon  speeches 
withal.  Howbeit,  many  poesies  and  writings  (in 
making  whereof  that  nation  hath  evermore  de- 
lighted) are  yet  extant  in  my  time,  whereby  some 
difference  between  the  ancient  and  present  lan- 
guage may  easily  be  discerned,  notwithstanding 
that  among  all  these  there  is  nothing  to  be  found 
which  can  set  down  any  sound  and  full  testimony 
of  their  own  original,  in  remembrance  whereof 
their  bards  and  cunning  men  have  been  most 
slack  and  negligent.    .     . 

Next  unto  the  British  speech,  the  Latin  tongue 
was  brought  in  by  the  Romans,  and  in  manner 
generally  planted  through  the  whole  region,  as 
the  French  was  after  by  the  Normans.  Of  this 
tongue  I  will  not  say  much,  because  there  are  few 


which  be  not  skilful  in  the  same.  Howbeit,  as 
the  speech  itself  is  easy  and  delectable,  so  hath  it 
perverted  the  names  of  the  ancient  rivers,  regions, 
and  cities  of  Britain,  in  such  wise,  that  in  these 
our  days  their  old  British  denominations  are  quite 
grown  out  of  memory,  and  yet  those  of  the  new 
Latin  left  as  most  uncertain.'  This  remaiueth, 
also,  unto  my  time,  borrowed  from  the  Romans, 
that  all  our  deeds,  evidences,  charters,  and  writ- 
ings of  record,  are  set  down  in  the  Latin  tongue, 
though  now  very  barbarous,  and  thereunto  the 
copies  and  court-rolls,  and  processes  of  courts  and 
leets  registered  in  the  same. 

The  third  language  apparently  known  is  the 
Scythian,*  or  High  Dutch,  induced  at  the  first  by 
the  Saxons  (which  the  Britons  call  Saysonaec.f 
as  they  do  the  speakers  Sayson),  a  hard  and  rough 
kind  of  speech,  God  wot,  when  our  nation  was 
brought  first  into  acquaintance  withal,  but  now 
changed  with  us  into  a  far  more  fine  and  easy 
kind  of  utterance,  and  so  polished  and  helped 
with  new  and  milder  words,  that  it  is  to  be 
avouched  how  there  is  no  one  speech  under  the 
sun  spoken  in  our  time  that  hath  or  can  have  more 
variety  of  words,  copiousness  of  phrases,  or  fig- 
ures and  flowers  of  eloquence,  than  hath  our  Eng- 
lish tongue,  although  some  have  affirmed  us 
rather  to  bark  as  dogs  than  talk  like  men,  because 
the  most  of  our  words  (as  they  do  indeed)  incline 
unto  one  syllable.  This,  also,  is  to  be  noted  as  a 
testimony  remaining  still  of  our  language,  de- 
rived from  the  Saxons,  that  the  general  name,  for 
the  most  part,  of  every  skilful  artificer  in  his 
trade  endeth  in  here  with  us,  albeit  the  h  be  left 
out,  and  er  only  inserted,  as,  scrivenhere,  writehere, 
shiphere,  etc.,  for  scrivener,  writer,  and  shipper, 
etc.  :  beside  many  other  relics  of  that  speech, 
never  to  be  abolished. 

After  the  Saxon  tongue  came  the  Norman  or 
French  language  over  into  our  country,  and 
therein  were  our  laws  written  for  a  long  time. 
Our  children,  also,  were,  by  an  especial  decree, 
taught  first  to  speak  the  same,  and  thereunto  en- 
forced to  learn  their  constructions  in  the  French, 
whensoever  the}-  were  set  to  the  grammar-school. 
In  like  sort,  few  bishops,  abbots,  or  other  clergy- 
men, were  admitted  unto  any  ecclesiastical  fuuc- 

*  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  remark,  that  this  term  is 
here  misapplied. 

t  The  Highlanders  of  Scotland  still  speak  of  the  Eng- 
lish as  Sassenach  (meaning  Saxons). 


166    THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


tion  here  among  us,  but  such  as  came  out  of  reli- 
gious houses  from  beyond  the  seas,  to  the  end  they 
should  not  use  the  English  tongue  in  their  ser- 
mons to  the  people.  In  the  court,  also,  it  grew 
into  such  contempt,  that  most  men  thought  it  no 
small  dishonor  to  speak  an}-  English  there  ;  which 
bravery  took  his  hold  at  the  last  likewise  in  the 
country  with  every  ploughman,  that  even  the  very 
carters  began  to  wax  wean-  of  their  mother- 
tongue,  and  labored  to  speak  French,  which  as 
then  was  counted  no  small  token  of  gentility. 
And  no  man-el ;  for  every  French  rascal,  when  he 
came  once  hither,  was  taken  for  a  gentleman,  only 
because  he  was  proud,  and  could  use  his  own  lan- 
guage. And  all  this  (I  say)  to  exile  the  English 
and  British  speeches  quite  out  of  the  country. 
But  in  vain  ;  for  in  the  time  of  King  Edward  I., 
to  wit,  toward  the  latter  end  of  his  reign,  the 
French  itself  ceased  to  be  spoken  generally,  but 
most  of  all  and  by  law  in  the  midst  of  Edward 
III.,  and  then  began  the  English  to  recover  and 
grow  in  more  estimation  than  before  ;  notwith- 
standing that,  among  our  artificers,  the  most  part 
of  their  implements,  tools,  and  works  of  art,  retain 
still  their  French  denominations  even  to  these 
our  days,  as  the  language  itself  is  used  likewise  in 
sundry  courts,  books  of  record,  and  matters  of 
law  ;  whereof  here  is  no  place  to  make  an)-  par- 
ticular rehearsal. 

Afterward,  also,  by  diligent  travail  of  Geoffrey 
Chaucer  and  John  Gower,  in  the  time  of  Richard 
II.,  and  after  them  of  John  Scogan  and  John 
Lydgate,  monk  of  Bury,  our  said  tongue  was 
brought  to  an  excellent  pass,  notwithstanding 
that  it  never  came  under  the  type  of  perfection 
until  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  wherein  John 
Jewel,  bishop  of  Sarum,  John  Fox,  and  sundry 
learned  and  excellent  writers,  have  fully  accom- 
plished the  ornature  of  the  same,  to  their  great 
praise  and  immortal  commendation  ;  although  not 
a  few  other  do  greatly  seek  to  stain  the  same,  by 
fond  affectation  of  foreign  and  strange  words, 
presuming  that  to  be  the  best  English  which  is 
most  corrupted  with  external  terms  of  eloquence 
and  sound  cf  many  syllables.  But  as  this  excel- 
lency of  the  English  tongue  is  found  in  one,  and 
the  south  part  of  this  island,  so  in  Wales  the 
greatest  number  (as  I  said)  retain  still  their  own 
ancient  language,  that  of  the  north  part  of  the 
said  country  being  less  corrupted  than  the  other, 
and  therefore  reputed  for  the  better  in  their  own 


estimation  and  judgment.  This,  also,  is  proper 
to  us  Englishmen,  that  since  ours  is  a  middle  or 
intermediate  language,  and  neither  too  rough  nor 
too  smooth  in  utterance,  we  ma}-  with  much  facil- 
ity learn  any  other  language,  beside  Hebrew, 
Greek,  and  Latin,  and  speak  it  naturally,  as  if  we 
were  home-born  in  those  countries ;  and  yet  on 
the  other  side  it  falleth  out,  I  wot  not  by  what 
other  means,  that  few  foreign  nations  can  rightly 
pronounce  ours,  without  some  and  that  great  note 
of  imperfection,  especially  the  Frenchmen,  who 
also  seldom  write  anything  that  savoureth  of 
English  truly.  But  this  of  all  the  rest  doth  breed 
most  admiration  with  me,  that  if  any  stranger  do 
hit  upon  some  likely  pronunciation  of  our  tongue, 
yet  in  age  he  swen-eth  so  much  from  the  same, 
that  he  is  worse  therein  than  ever  he  was,  and 
thereto,  peradventure,  halteth  not  a  little  also  in 
his  own,  as  I  have  seen  by  experience  in  Reginald 
Wolfe,  and  others,  whereof  I  have  justly  mar- 
velled. 

The  Cornish  and  Devonshire  men,  whose  coun- 
try the  Britons  call  Cerniw,  have  a  speech  in  like 
sort  of  their  own,  and  such  as  hath  indeed  more 
affinity  with  the  Armoricaii  tongue  than  I  can 
well  discuss  of.  Yet  in  mine  opinion,  they  are 
both  but  a  corrupted  kind  of  British,  albeit  so  far 
degenerating  in  these  days  from  the  old,  that  if 
either  of  them  do  meet  with  a  Welshman,  they 
are  not  able  at  the  first  to  understand  one  another, 
except  here  and  there  in  some  odd  words,  without 
the  help  of  interpreters.  And  no  man-el,  in  mine 
opinion,  that  the  British  of  Cornwall  is  thus  cor- 
rupted, since  the  Welsh  tongue  that  is  spoken  in 
the  north  and  south  part  of  Wales  doth  differ  so 
much  in  itself,  as  the  English  used  in  Scotland 
doth  from  that  which  is  spoken  among  us  here  in 
this  side  of  the  island,  as  I  have  said  already. 

The  Scottish-English  hath  been  much  broader 
and  less  pleasant  in  utterance  than  ours,  because 
that  nation  hath  not,  till  of  late,  endeavoured  to 
bring  the  same  to  any  perfect  order,  and  yet  it 
was  such  in  manner  as  Englishmen  themselves 
did  speak  for  the  most  part  beyond  the  Trent, 
whither  any  great  amendment  of  our  language 
had  not,  as  then,  extended  itself.  Howbeit,  in 
our  time  the  Scottish  language  endeavoureth  to 
come  near,  if  not  altogether  to  match,  our  tongue 
in  fineness  of  phrase  and  copiousness  of  words, 
and  this  may  in  part  appear  by  a  history  of  the 
Apocrypha  translated  into  Scottish  verse  by  Hud- 


AN  OLD  SOLDIER'S  STORY. 


(I67) 


168 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


son,  dedicated  to  the  king  of  that  country,  and  con- 
taining six  books,  except  my  memory  do  fail  me. 


TALES  CF  TRAVELLERS. 

Q ELECTED  from  the  writings  of  James  Howell, 
\D     an  author  of  the  sixteenth  century  : 

' '  Others  have  a  custom  to  be  always  relating 
strange  things  and  wonders  (of  the  humour  of  Sir 
John  Mandeville),  and  they  usually  present  them 
to  the  hearers  through  multiplying-glasses,  and 
thereby  cause  the  thing  to  appear  far  greater 
than  it  is  itself;  they  make  mountains  of  mole- 
hills, like  Chareuton-Bridge-Echo,  which  doubles 
the  sound  nine  times.  Such  a  traveller  was  he 
that  reported  the  Indian  fly  to  be  as  big  as  a  fox  ; 
China  birds  to  be  as  big  as  some  horses,  and  their 
mice  to  be  as  big  as  monkeys  ;  but  they  have  the 
wit  to  fetch  this  far  enough  off,  because  the  hearer 
may  rather  believe  it  than  make  a  voyage  so  far 
to  disprove  it. 

"  Even-  one  knows  the  tale  of  him  who  reported 
he  had  seen  a  cabbage,  under  whose  leaves  a  re- 
giment of  soldiers  were  sheltered  from  a  shower 
of  rain.  Another,  who  was  no  traveller  (yet  the 
wiser  man),  said  he  had  passed  by  a  place  where 
there  were  400  braziers  making  a  cauldron — 200 
within,  and  200  without,  beating  the  nails  in  ;  the 
traveller  asking  for  what  use  that  huge  cauldron 
wTas?  he  told  him — 'Sir  it  was  to  boil  your 
cabbage. ' 

"Such  another  was  the  Spanish  traveller,  who 
was  so  habituated  to  hyperboles,  and  relate 
wonders,  that  he  became  ridiculous  in  all  com- 
panies, so  that  he  was  forced  at  last  to  give 
order  to  his  man,  when  he  fell  into  any  excess 
this  way,  and  report  anything  improbable,  he 
should  pull  him  by  the  sleeve.  The  master 
falling  into  his  wonted  hyperboles,  spoke  of  a 
church  in  China  that  was  ten  thousand  yards 
long  ;  his  man,  standing  behind,  and  pulling  him 
by  the  sleeve,  made  him  stop  suddenly.  The  com- 
pany- asking,  I  '  pray,  sir,  how  broad  might  that 
church  be  ? '  he  replied,  '  But  a  yard  broad,  and 
you  may-  thank  my  man  for  pulling  me  by  the 
sleeve,  else  I  had  made  it  foursquare  for  you.'  " 


THE  TAKING  OF  CONSTANTINOPLE  BY  THE 
TURKS. 

CTELECTED    from    the    writings   of    Richard 

VP     Knolles,  an  historian  of  the  Elizabethan  era  : 

A  little  before  day,  the  Turks  approached  the 

walls  and  began  the  assault,  where  shot  and  stones 


were  delivered  upon  them  from  the  walls  as  thick 
as  hail,  whereof  little  fell  in  vain,  by  reason  of 
the  multitude  of  the  Turks,  who,  pressing  fast 
unto  the  walls,  could  not  see  in  the  dark  how  to 
defend  themselves,  but  were  without  number 
wounded  or  slain  ;  but  these  were  of  the  common 
and  worst  soldiers,  of  whom  the  Turkish  king 
made  no  more  reckoning  than  to  abate  the  first 
force  of  the  defendants.  Upon  the  first  appear- 
ance of  the  day,  Mahomet  gave  the  sign  appointed, 
for  the  general  assault,  whereupon  the  city  was  in 
a  moment,  and  at  one  instant,  on  every  side  most 
furiously  assaulted  by  the  Turks  ;  for  Mahomet, 
the  more  to  distress  the  defendants,  and  the  better 
to  see  the  forwardness  of  the  soldiers,  had  before 
appointed  which  part  of  the  city  every  colonel 
with  his  regiment  should  assail :  which  they 
valiantly  performed,  delivering  their  arrows  and 
shot  upon  the  defendants  so  thick  that  the  light 
of  the  day  was  therewith  darkened  ;  others  in  the 
meantime  courageously-  mounting  the  scaling-lad- 
ders, and  coming  even  to  handy-strokes  with  the  de- 
fendants upon  the  wall,  where  the  foremost  were  for 
the  most  part  violently  borne  forward  by  them  which 
followed  after.  On  the  other  side,  the  Christians 
with  no  less  courage  withstood  the  Turkish  fury, 
beating  them  clown  again  with  great  stones  and 
weighty  pieces  of  timber,  and  so  overwhelmed 
them  with  shot,  darts  and  arrows,  and  other  hurt- 
ful devices  from  above,  that  the  Turks,  dis- 
mayed with  the  terror  thereof,  were  ready  to 
retire. 

Mahomet,  seeing  the  great  slaughter  and  dis- 
comfiture of  his  men,  sent  in  fresh  supplies  of  his 
janizaries  and  best  men  of  war,  whom  he  had  for 
that  purpose  reserved  as  his  last  hope  and  refuge  ; 
by  whose  coming  on  his  fainting  soldiers  were 
again  encouraged,  and  the  terrible  assault  begun 
afresh.  At  which  time  the  barbarous  king  ceased 
not  to  use  all  possible  means  to  maintain  the 
assault  ;  by  name  calling  upon  this  and  that  cap- 
tain, promising  unto  some  whom  he  saw  forward 
golden  mountains,  and  unto  others  in  whom  he 
saw  any  sign  of  cowardice,  threatening  most  ter- 
rible death  ;  by  which  means  the  assault  became 
most  dreadful,  death  there  raging  in  the  midstof 
manv  thousands.  And  albeit  that  the  Turks  lay- 
dead  by  heaps  upon  the  ground,  yet  other  fresh 
men  pressed  on  still  in  their  places  over  their  dead 
bodies,  and  with  divers  event  either  slew  or  were 
slain  by  their  enemies. 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


169 


In  this  so  terrible  a  conflict,  it  chanced  Justini- 
anus  the  general  to  be  wounded  in  the  arm,  who, 
losing  much  blood,  cowardly  withdrew  himself 
from  the  place  of 
his  charge,  not 
leaving  any  to 
supply  his  room, 
and  so  got  into 
the  city  by  the 
gate  called  Ro- 
mana,  which  he 
had  caused  to  be 
opened  in  the 
inner  wall  ;  pre- 
tending the  cause 
of  his  departure 
to  be  for  the  bind- 
ing  up  of  his 
wound,  but  being, 
indeed,  a  man 
n  o  w  altogether 
discouraged. 

The  soldiers 
there  present,  dis- 
mayed with  the 
departure  of  their 
general,  and  sore 
charged  b  y  the 
janizaries,  for- 
sook their  s  t  a  - 
tions,  and  in  haste 
fled  to  the  same 
gate  whereby  Jus- 
tinianus  was  en- 
tered ;  with  the 
sight  whereof  the 
other  soldiers, 
disma5'ed,  ran 
thither  by  heaps 
also.  But  whilst 
they  violently 
strive  all  together 
to  get  in  at  once, 
the>"  so  wedged 
one  another  in  the 
entrance  of  the 
gate,  that  few  of 
so  great  a  multi- 
tude got  in  ;  in  which  so  great  a  press  and  confu- 
sion of  minds,  eight  hundred  persons  were  there  by 
them  that  followed  trodden  under  foot,  or  thrust  to 


death.  The  emperor  himself,  for  safeguard  of  his 
life,  flying  with  the  rest  in  that  press  as  a  man  not 
regarded,  miserably  ended  his  days,  together  with 


ASSAULT   UPON    CONSTANTINOPLE. 


the  Greek  empire.  His  dead  body  was  shortly 
after  found  by  the  Turks  among  the  slain,  and 
known  by  his  rich  apparel,  whose  head  being  cut 


170 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


off,  was  forthwith  presented  to  the  Turkish  tyrant, 
by  whose  commandment  it  was  afterward  thrust 
upon  the  point  of  a  lance,  and  in  great  derision 
carried  about  as  a  trophy  of  his  victory,  first  in 
the  camp,  and  afterwards  up  and  down  the  city. 

The  Turks,  encouraged  with  the  flight  of  the 
Christians,  presently  advanced  their  ensigns  upon 
the  top  of  the  uttermost  wall,  crying  Victory  ; 
and  by  the  breach  entered  it  as  if  it  had  been  a 
great  flood,  which,  having  once  found  a  breach 
in  the  bank,  overfloweth,  and  beareth  down  all 
before  it ;  so  the  Turks,  when  they  had  won  the 
utter  wall,  entered  the  city  by  the  same  gate  that 
was  opened  for  Justiniauus,  and  by  a  breach 
which  the}-  had  before  made  with  their  great 
artillery,  and  without  mercy  cutting  in  pieces  all 
that  came  in  their  way,  without  further  resistance 
became  lords  of  that  most  famous  and  imperial 
city.  ...  In  this  fun-  of  the  barbarians  perished 
many  thousands  of  men,  women  and  children, 
without  respect  of  age,  sex,  or  condition.  Many, 
for  safeguard  of  their  lives,  fled  into  the  temple 
of  Sophia,  where  they  were  all  without  pity  slain, 
except  some  few  reserved  by  the  barbarous  vic- 
tors to  purposes  more  grievous  than  death  itself. 
The  rich  and  beautiful  ornaments  and  jewels  of 
that  most  sumptuous  and  magnificent  church  (the 
stately  building  of  Justinianus  the  emperor)  were, 
in  the  turning  of  a  hand,  plucked  down  and  car- 
ried awav  by  the  Turks  ;  and  the  church  itself, 
built  for  God  to  be  honoured  in,  for  the  present 
converted  into  a  stable  for  their  horses,  or  a  place 
for  the  execution  of  their  abominable  and  un- 
speakable filthiness  ;  the  image  of  the  crucifix 
was  also  by  them  taken  down,  and  a  Turk's  cap 
put  upon  the  head  thereof,  and  so  set  up  and  shot 
at  with  their  arrows,  and  afterwards,  in  great  de- 
rision, carried  about  in  their  camp,  as  it  had  been 
in  procession,  with  drums  playing  before  it,  rail- 
ing and  spitting  at  it,  and  calling  it  the  God  of 
the  Christians,  which  I  note  not  so  much  done  in 
contempt  of  the  image,  as  in  despite  of  Christ 
and  the  Christian  religion. 


TRANSLATION   OF   THE   BIBLE. 

ONE  of  the  most  important  literary  undertak- 
ings of  the  17th  century  was  the  execution 
of  the  present  authorized,  or  King  James,  transla- 
tion of  the  Bible.  At  the  great  conference  held 
in  1604  at  Hampton  Court,  between  the  estab- 
lished and  puritan  clergy,  the  version  of  Scripture 


then  existing  was  generally  disapproved  of,  and 
the  king  consequently  appointed  fifty-four  men, 
man}-  of  whom  were  eminent  as  Hebrew  and 
Greek  scholars,  to  commence  a  new  translation. 
In  1607,  forty-seven  of  the  number  met,  in  six 
parties,  at  Oxford,  Cambridge,  and  Westminster, 
and  proceeded  to  their  task,  a  certain  portion  of 
Scripture  being  assigned  to  each.  Ever)7  indi- 
vidual of  each  division,  in  the  first  place,  trans- 
lated the  portion  assigned  to  the  division,  all  of 
which  translations  were  collected  ;  and  when  each 
party  had  determined  on  the  construction  of  its 
part,  it  was  proposed  to  the  other  divisions  for 
general  approbation.  When  they  met  together, 
one  read  the  new  version,  whilst  all  the  rest  held 
in  their  hands  either  copies  of  the  original,  or 
some  valuable  version  ;  and  on  any  one  objecting 
to  a  passage,  the  reader  stopped  till  it  was  agreed 
upon.  The  work  was  completed  in  161 1,  and  has 
ever  since  been  reputed  as  a  translation  generally 
faithful,  and  an  excellent  specimen  of  the  lan- 
guage of  the  time.  Being  universally  read  by  all 
ranks  of  the  people,  it  has  contributed  most  essen- 
tially to  give  stability  and  uniformity  to  the 
English  tongue. 


KING  JAMES  AND  HIS    BELIEF  IN   WITCH- 
CRAFT. 

THE  fulsome  address  of  the  translators  of  the 
Bible,  to  King  James,  on  the  completion 
of  their  work,  sounds  exceedingly  strange  in 
these  modem  times.  They  address  him  as  ' '  The 
most  high  and  mighty  Prince  James,  by  the 
grace  of  God,  King  of  Great  Britain,  France,  and 
Ireland,  Defender  of  the  Faith,  etc.,"  and  then 
proceed  to  express  their  appreciation  of  his  vir- 
tues in  a  manner  that  appears  almost  like  idolatry. 
The  opening  paragraph,  which  we  quote,  is  cer- 
tainly objectionable  on  this  ground  : 

"  Great  and  manifold  were  the  blessings,  most 
dread  Sovereign,  which  Almighty  God,  the  Father 
of  all  mercies,  bestowed  upon  us,  the  people  of 
England,  when  first  he  sent  Your  Majesty's  Royal 
Person  to  rule  and  reign  over  us.  For  whereas  it 
was  the  expectation  of  many,  who  wished  not 
well  unto  our  Sion,  that  upon  the  setting  of  that 
bright  Occidental  Star,  Queen  Elizabeth  of  most 
happy  memory,  some  thick  and  palpable  clouds 
of  darkness  would  so  have  overshadowed  this 
land,  that  men  would  have  been  in  doubt  which 
way  the}-  were  to  walk  ;  and  that  it  would  haraly 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


171 


be  known,  who  was  to  direct  the  unsettled  State  ; 
the  appearance  of  Your  Majesty,  as  of  the  Sun  in 
his  strength,  instantly  dispelled  those  supposed 
and  surmised  mists,  and  gave  unto  all  that  were 
well  affected  exceeding  cause  of  comfort ;  espe- 
cially when  we  behold  the  Government  established 
in  Your  Highness,  and  Your  hopeful  Seed,  by  an 
undoubted  Title,  and  this  also  accompanied  with 
peace  and  tranquillity  at  home  and  abroad." 

This  nauseating  flattery  seems  all  the  more  out 
of  place  when  we  consider  the  unsavory  moral 
character  of  this  prince,  and  the  further  fact  that 
he  was  a  devout  believer  in  witchcraft  and  all  the 
kindred  superstitions  of  his  times.  During  his 
reign  the  severest  laws  were  enacted  for  the 
punishment  of  witches,  and  they  were  persecuted 
and  tortured  in  the  most  horrible  manner  from 
one  end  of  the  kingdom  to  the  other.  James  even 
wrote  a  book  on  the  subject  of  witchcraft,  entitled 
Dcemonology,  in  which  he  maintained  the  exist- 
ence and  criminality  of  witches,  and  discussed  the 
manner  in  which  their  feats  were  performed.  Our 
readers  will  be  amused  by  some  extracts  from  this 
literary  effort  of  the  British  Solomon.  We  quote 
first  from  his  preface  : 

' '  The  fearful  abounding  at  this  time  in  this 
country  of  these  detestable  slaves  of  the  devil, 
the  witches  or  enchanters,  hath  moved  me  (be- 
loved reader)  to  despatch  in  post  this  following 
treatise  of  mine,  not  in  any  wise  (as  I  protest)  to 
serve  for  a  show  of  my  learning  and  ingine,  but 
only,  moved  of  conscience,  to  press  thereb}',  so 
far  as  I  can,  to  resolve  the  doubting  hearts  of 
many ;  both  that  such  assaults  of  Sathan  are 
most  certainly  practised,  and  that  the  instruments 
thereof  merit  most  severely  to  be  punished ; 
against  the  damnable  opinions  of  two  principally 
in  our  age,  whereof  the  one  called  Scot,  an  Eng- 
lisman,  is  not  ashamed  in  public  print  to  deny 
that  there  can  be  such  a  thing  as  witchcraft ;  and 
so  maintains  the  old  error  of  the  Sadducees  in 
denying  of  spirits.  The  other  called  Wierus,  a 
German  physician,  sets  out  a  public  apology  for 
all  these  crafts-folks,  whereby,  procuring  for  their 
impunity,  he  plainly  bewrays  himself  to  have  been 
one  of  that  profession.  And  for  to  make  this 
treatise  the  more  pleasant  and  facile,  I  have  put 
it  iu  form  of  a  dialogue,  which  I  have  divided 
into  three  books  :  the  first  speaking  of  magic  in 
general,  and  necromancy  in  special :  the  second, 
of  sorcery  and  witchcraft :  and  the  third  contains 


a  discourse  of  all  these  kinds  of  spirits,  and 
spectres  that  appears  and  troubles  persons :  to- 
gother  with  a  conclusion  of  the  whole  work.  My 
intention  in  this  labour  is  only  to  prove  two  things, 
as  I  have  already  said  :  the  one,  that  such  devilish 
arts  have  been  and  are :  the  other,  what  exact 
trial  and  severe  punishment  they  merit :  and 
therefore  reason  I,  what  kind  of  things  are  possi- 
ble to  be  performed  in  these  arts,  and  by  what 
natural  causes  they  may  be.  Not  that  I  touch 
every  particular  thing  of  the  devil's  power,  for 
that  were  infinite  :  but  only,  to  speak  scholasticly 
(since  this  cannot  be  spoken  in  our  language),  I 
reason  upon  genus,  leaving  species  and  differentia. 
to  be  comprehended  therein.  As,  for  example, 
speaking  of  the  power  of  magicians  in  the  first 
book  and  sixth  chapter,  I  say  that  they  can  sud- 
denly cause  to  be  brought  unto  them  all  kinds  of 
dainty  dishes  by  their  familiar  spirit :  since  as  a 
thief  he  delights  to  steal,  and  as  a  spirit  he  can 
subtilly  and  suddenly  enough  transport  the  same. 
Now,  under  this  genus  may  be  comprehended  all 
particulars  depending  thereupon ;  such  as  the 
bringing  wine  out  of  a  wall  (as  we  have  heard  oft 
to  have  been  practised)  and  such  others ;  which 
particulars  are  sufficiently  proved  by  the  reasons 
of  the  general." 

He  then  proceeds  wisely  to  explain  ' '  how 
witches  travel : ' ' 

"  There  is  the  thing  which  I  esteem  their  senses 
to  be  deluded  in,  and,  though  they  lie  not  in  con- 
fessing of  it,  because  they  think  it  to  be  true,  yet 
not  to  be  so  in  substance  or  effect,  for  they  say, 
that  by  divers  means  they  may  convene  either  to 
the  adoring  of  their  master,  or  to  the  putting  in 
practice  any  service  of  his  committed  unto  their 
charge  ;  one  way  is  natural,  which  is  natural  rid- 
ing, going,  or  sailing,  at  what  hour  their  master 
comes  and  advertises  them.  And  this  way  may 
be  easily  believed.  Another  way  is  somewhat 
more  strange,  and  yet  it  is  possible  to  be  true : 
which  is  by  being  carried  by  the  force  of  the  spirit 
which  is  their  conductor,  either  above  the  earth 
or  above  the  sea,  swiftly,  to  the  place  where  they 
are  to  meet :  which  I  am  persuaded  to  be  likewise 
possible,  in  respect  that  as  Habakkuk  was  carried 
by  the  angel  in  that  form  to  the  den  where  Daniel 
lay,  so  think  I  the  devil  will  be  ready  to  imitate 
God,  as  well  in  that  as  in  other  things  :  which  is 
much  more  possible  to  him  to  do,  being  a  spirit, 
than  to  a  mighty  wind,  being  but  a  natural  meteor, 


172 


THE  WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,   AND  THE 


to  transport  from  one  place  to  another  a  solid  body 
as  is  commonly  and  daily  seen  in  practice.  But 
in  this  violent  form  they  cannot  be  carried  but  a 
short  bounds,  agreeing  with  the  space  that  they 
may  retain  their  breath :  for  if  it  were  longer, 
their  breath  could  not  remain  unextinguished, 
their  body  being  carried  in  such  a  violent  and 
forcible  manner,  as,  by  example,  if  one  fall  off  a 
small  height,  his  life  is  but  in  peril,  according  to 
the  soft  lighting ;  but  if  one  fall  from  a  high  and 
stay*  rock,  his  breath  will  be  forcibly  banished 
from  the  body  before  he  can  winf  to  the  earth, 
as  is  oft  seen  by  experience.  And  in  this  trans- 
porting they  say  themselves,  that  they  are  invisi- 
ble to  any  other,  except  amongst  themselves. 
For  if  the  devil  may  form  what  kind  of  impres- 
sions he  pleases  in  the  air,  as  I  have  said  before, 
speaking  of  magic,  why  may  he  not  far  easier 
thicken  and  obscure  so  the  air  that  is  next  about 
them,  by  contracting  it  straight  together,  that  the 
beams  of  any  other  man's  eyes  cannot  pierce 
through  the  same,  to  see  them  ?  But  the  third 
way  of  their  coming  to  their  conventions  is  that 
wherein  I  think  them  deluded  :  for  some  of  them 
saith  that,  being  transformed  in  the  likeness  of  a 
little  beast  or  fowl,  they  will  come  and  pierce 
through  whatsoever  house  or  church,  though  all 
ordinary  passages  be  closed,  by  whatsoever  open 
the  air  may  enter  in  at.  And  some  saith,  that 
their  bodies  lying  still,  as  in  an  ecstacy,  their 
spirits  will  be  ravished  out  of  their  bodies,  and 
carried  to  such  places  ;  and  for  verifying  thereof 
will  give  evident  tokens,  as  well  by  witnesses  that 
have  seen  their  body  lying  senseless  in  the 
meantime,  as  bjr  many  persons  whomwith  they 
met,  and  giving  tokens  what  purpose  was  amongst 
them,  whom  otherwise  they  could  not  have 
known  ;  for  this  form  of  journeying  they  affirm 
to  use  most  when  they  are  transported  from  one 
country  to  another. ' ' 

No  wonder  people  were  ignorant  and  super- 
stitious. And  what  a  vast  difference  there  was 
in  the  mental  capacities  of  Elizabeth,  the  wise 
and  strong-minded  queen,  and  James,  the  weak 
and  superstitious  king. 


the  story  teaches  that  we  should  treat  with  respect 
the  opinions  of  others,  even  where  they  differ 
widely  from  our  own  : 

' '  When  Abraham  sat  at  his  tent  door,  accord- 
ing to  his  custom,  waiting  to  entertain  strangers, 
he  espied  an  old  man  stopping  and  leaning  on  his 
staff,  weary  with  age  and  travel,  coming  towards 
him,  who  was  a  hundred  years  of  age.  He  re- 
ceived him  kindly,  washed  his  feet,  provided 
supper,  and  caused  him  to  sit  down  ;  but  observ- 
ing that  the  old  man  ate  and  prayed  not,  nor 
begged  for  a  blessing  on  his  meat,  asked  him  why 
he  did  not  worship  the  God  of  heaven  ?  The  old 
man  told  him  that  he  worshipped  the  fire  only, 
and  acknowledged  no  other  God  ;  at  which  an- 
swer Abraham  grew  so  zealously  angry,  that  he 
thrust  the  old  man  out  of  his  tent,  and  exposed 
him  to  all  the  evils  of  the  night  and  an  unguarded 
condition.  When  the  old  man  was  gone,  God 
called  to  Abraham,  and  asked  him  where  the 
stranger  was  ?  He  replied,  I  thrust  him  away  be- 
cause he  did  not  worship  thee  :  God  answered 
him,  I  have  suffered  him  these  hundred  years, 
although  he  dishonoured  me,  and  couldst  not  thou 
endure  him  one  night,  when  he  gave  thee  no 
trouble  ?  Upon  this,  saith  the  story,  Abraham 
fetched  him  back  again,  and  gave  him  hospitable 
entertainment  and  wise  instruction.  Go  thou  and 
do  likewise,  and  tin-  charity  will  be  rewarded  by 
the  God  of  Abraham." 


A  STORY  OF  ABRAHAM. 

JEREMY   TAYLOR    gives   us   the   following 
story  of  Abraham,  which  he  said  he  found 
in  the  "Jews'  Book,"  or  Talmud.     The  moral  of 
*  Steep.  f  Get. 


NO  MAN   CAN   BE  GOOD  TO  ALL. 

INEYER  yet  knew  any  man  so  bad,  but  some 
have  thought  him  honest  and  afforded  him 
love ;  nor  ever  any  so  good,  but  some  have 
thought  him  evil  and  hated  him.  Few  are  so 
stigmatical  as  that  they  are  not  honest  to  some  ; 
and  few,  again,  are  so  just,  as  that  they  seem  not 
to  some  unequal :  either  the  ignorance,  the  envy, 
or  the  partiality  of  those  that  judge,  do  constitute 
a  various  man.  Nor  can  a  man  in  himself  always 
appear  alike  to  all.  In  some,  nature  hath  invested 
a  disparity ;  in  some,  report  hath  fore-blinded 
judgment;  and  in  some,  accident  is  the  cause  of 
disposing  us  to  love  or  hate.  Or,  if  not  these,  the 
variation  of  the  bodies'  humours ;  or  perhaps,  not 
any  of  these.  The  soul  is  often  led  by  secret 
motions ;  and  loves,  she  knows  not  why.  There 
are  impulsive  privacies  which  urge  us  to  a  liking, 
even  against  the  parliamental  acts  of  the  two 
Houses,    reason,    and   the   common   sense ;  as  if 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


173 


there  were  some  hidden  beaut}'  of  a  more  mag- 
netic force  than  all  that  the  e}'e  can  see,  and  this, 
too,  more  powerful  at  one  time  than  another.  Un- 
discovered influences  please  us  now,  with  what  we 
would  sometimes  condemn.  I  have  come  to  the 
same  man  that  hath  now  welcomed  me  with  a 
free  expression  of  love  and  courtesy,  and  another 
time  hath  left  me  unsaluted  at  all ;  yet,  knowing 
him  well,  I  have  been  certain  of  his  sound  affec- 
tion ;  and  have  found  this,  not  an  intended 
neglect,  but  an  indisposedness,  or  a  mind  seriously 


also  on  account  of  its  descriptions  of  certain  fash- 
ions then  prevailing  : 

' '  Good  clothes  are  the  embroidered  trappings 
of  pride,  and  good  cheer  the  very  root  of  glut- 
tony. Did  man,  think  you,  come  wrangling  into 
the  world  about  no  better  matters,  than  all  his 
lifetime  to  make  privy  searches  in  Birchin  Lane 
for  whalebone  doublets,  or  for  pies  of  nightin- 
gales' tongues  in  Heliogabalus  his  kitchen  ?  No, 
no ;  the  first  suit  of  apparel  that  ever  mortal  man 
put  on,  came  neither  from  the  mercer's  shop  nor 


A  FLEMISH  LADY  AND  SERVANT  OF  THE  FOURTEENTH  CENTURY. 


busied  within  Occasion  reins  the  motions  of  the 
stirring  mind.  Like  men  that  walk  in  their 
sleep,  we  are  led  about,  we  neither  know  whither 
nor  how. — Owen  Fell/ham. 


ANCIENT  FOLLIES  OF  FASHION. 

THE  follies  of  fashion  have  always  been  con- 
sidered a  fair  subject  of  ridicule  by  both 
press  and  pulpit.  We  select  the  following  from 
the  writing  of  Thomas  Dekker,  published  in 
1609,  as  a  sample  of  the  raillery  of  the  times,  and 


the  merchant's  warehouse:  Adam's  bill  would 
have  been  taken  then,  sooner  than  a  knight's 
bond  now;  yet  was  he  great  in  nobody's  books 
for  satin  and  velvets.  The  silk-worms  had  some- 
thing else  to  do  in  those  days  than  to  set  up  looms, 
and  be  free  of  the  weavers.  His  breeches  were 
not  so  much  worth  as  King  Stephen's,  that  cost 
but  a  poor  noble;  for  Adam's  holiday  hose  and 
doublet  were  of  no  better  stuff  than  plain  fig- 
leaves,  and  Eve's  best  gown  of  the  same  piece- 
there  went  but  a  pair  of  shears  between  them. 


174 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


An  antiquary  of  this  town  has  yet  some  of  the 
powder  of  those  leaves  to  show.  Tailors  then 
were  none  of  the  twelve  companies ;  their  hall, 
that  now  is  larger  than  some  dories  among  the 
Netherlands,  was  then  no  bigger  than  a  Dutch 
butcher's  shop;  they  durst  not  strike  down  their 
customers  with  large  bills :  Adam  cared  not  an 
apple-paring  for  their  lousy  hems.  There  was 
then  neither  the  Spanish  slop,  nor  the  skipper's 
galligaskin,  nor  the  Danish  sleeve,  nor  the  French 
standing  collar :  your  treble-quadruple  ruffs,  nor 
your  stiff-necked  rabatos,  that  have  more  arches 
for  pride  than  can  stand  under  five  London 
bridges,  durst  not  then  set  themselves  out  in 
point ;  for  the  patent  for  starch  could  by  no  means 
be  signed.  Fashion  was  then  counted  a  disease, 
and  horses  died  of  it ;  but  now,  thanks  to  folly,  it 
is  held  the  only  rare  physic,  and  the  purest  golden 
asses  live  upon  it. ' ' 

When  we  examine  the  private  histories  of  an- 
cient days,  we  find  that  the  people  of  those  ' '  good 
old  times"  were  really  no  better,  if  quite  so  good, 
as  those  who  are  now  living.  In  fact  it  would  be 
a  sad  commentary  upon  humanity  if  it  could  be 
proven   that  we  get  no  better  as  we  grow  older. 


THE    FRENCHMAN     OF    THE    SEVENTEENTH 
CENTURY. 

IN  1621,  Peter  Heylin,  of  England,  wrote  a  very 
interesting  history  of  the  people  of  the  world, 
from  which  we  select  the  following  description 
of  the  French  of  that  period. 

The  present  French  is  nothing  but  an  old  Gaul, 
moulded  into  a  new  name  :  as  rash  he  is,  as  head- 
strong, and  as  hair-brained.  A  nation  whom  you 
shall  win  with  a  feather,  and  lose  with  a  straw ; 
upon  the  first  sight  of  him,  you  shall  have  him  as 
familiar  as  your  sleep,  or  the  necessity  of  breath- 
ing. In  one  hour's  conference  you  may  endear 
him  to  you,  in  the  second  unbutton  him,  the  third 
pumps  him  dry  of  all  his  secrets,  and  he  gives 
them  you  as  faithfully  as  if  you  were  his  ghostly 
father,  and  bound  to  conceal  them  "sub  sigillo 
confessionis  " — ["  under  the  seal  of  confession  "]  ; 
when  you  have  learned  of  this,  you  ma}'  lay  him 
aside,  for  he  is  no  longer  serviceable. 

I  will  give  you  now  a  taste  of  his  table,  which 
you  will  find  in  a  measure  furnished  (I  speak  not  of 
the  peasant),  but  not  with  so  full  a  manner  as  with 
us.     Their  beef  they  cut  out  into  such  chops,  that 


that  which  goeth  there  for  a  laudable  dish,  would 
be  thought  here  a  university  commons,  new  served 
from  the  hatch.  A  loin  of  mutton  serves  amongst 
them  for  three  roastings,  besides  the  hazard  of 
making  pottage  with  the  rump.  Fowl,  also,  they 
have  in  good  plenty,  especially  such  as  the  king 
found  in  Scotland  ;  to  say  truth,  that  which  they 
have  is  sufficient  for  nature  and  a  friend,  were  it 
not  for  the  mistress  or  the  kitchen  wench.  I  have 
heard  much  fame  of  the  French  cooks,  but  their 
skill  lieth  not  in  the  neat  handling  of  beef  and 
mutton.  They  have  (as  generally  have  all  this 
nation)  good  fancies,  and  are  special  fellows  for 
the  making  of  puff-pastes,  and  the  ordering  of 
banquets.  Their  trade  is  not  to  feed  the  belly,  but 
the  palate.  It  is  now  time  you  were  set  down, 
■where  the  first  thing  you  must  do  is  to  say  your 
grace  ;  private  graces  are  as  ordinary  there  as  pri- 
vate masses,  and  from  thence  I  think  the}-  learned 
them.  That  done,  fall  to  where  you  like  best ; 
they  observe  no  method  in  their  eating,  and  if  you 
look  for  a  carver,  you  may  rise  fasting.  When 
you  are  risen,  if  you  can  digest  the  sluttishness  of 
the  cookery  (which  is  most  abominable  at  first 
sight),  I  dare  trust  you  in  a  garrison.  Follow  him 
to  church,  and  there  he  will  show  himself  most 
irreligious  and  irreverent ;  I  speak  not  of  all,  but 
the  general.  At  a  mass,  in  Cordeliers'  church  in 
Paris,  I  saw  two  French  papists,  even  when  the 
most  sacred  mystery  of  their  faith  was  celebrating, 
break  out  into  such  blasphemous  and  atheistical 
laughter,  that  even  an  Ethnic  would  have  hated 
it ;  it  was  well  they  were  Catholics,  otherwise  some 
French  hothead  or  other  would  have  sent  them 
laughing  to  Pluto. 

The  French  language  is,  indeed,  very  sweet  and 
delectable  .  it  is  cleared  of  all  harshness,  by  the 
cutting  and  leaving  out  the  consonants,  which 
maketh  it  fall  off  the  tongue  very  volubl}-  ;  yet  in 
my  opinion,  it  is  rather  elegant  than  copious  ;  and, 
therefore,  is  much  troubled  for  want  of  words  to 
find  out  paraphrases.  It  expresseth  very  much  of 
itself  in  action  ;  the  head,  bod}-,  and  shoulders, 
concur  in  all  the  pronouncing  of  it ;  and  he  that 
hopeth  to  speak  it  with  good  grace,  must  have 
something  in  him  of  the  mimic.  It  is  enriched 
with  a  full  number  of  insignificant  proverbs, 
which  is  a  great  help  to  the  French  humour  in 
scoffing  ;  and  very  full  of  courtship,  which  maketh 
all  the  people  complimeutal.    The  poorest  cobbler 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


175 


in  the  village  hath  his  court  cringes,  and  his  eau     be  seen  by  this  extract  on  the  liberty  of  the  press 

bcnitc  de  coar ;  his  court  holy-water  as  perfectly  as      and  the  value  of  books  : 

the  prince  of  Conde.  ' '  I  deny  not  but  that  it  is  of  the  greatest  con- 


A  FRENCH  GALLANT  OF  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY. 


MILTON  ON  THE  LIBERTY  OF   THE  PRESS.  cernment   in  the  church,  and  commonwealth,  to 

mlLTON  was  not  only  one  of  the  immortals  have  a  vigilant  eye  how  books  demean  themselves 

as  a  poet,  but  he  was  also  a  miscellaneous  as  well  as  men  ;  and  thereafter  to  confine,  imprison, 

writer  of  very  strong  and  beautiful  prose,  as  will  and  do  sharpest  justice  on  them  as  malefactors  j 


176 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


for  books  are  not  absolutely  dead  things,  but  do 
contain  a  potency  of  life  in  them,  to  be  as  active 
as  that  soul  whose  progeny  the}'  are  ;  nay,  they 
do  preserve,  as  in  a  vial,  the  purest  efficacy  and 
extraction  of  that  living  intellect  that  bred  them. 
I  know  they  are  as  lively,  and  as  vigorously  pro- 
ductive, as  those  fabulous  dragons'  teeth  ;  and 
being  sown  up  and  down,  may  chance  to  spring 
up  armed  men.  And  yet,  on  the  other  hand, 
unless  wariness  be  used,  as  good  almost  kill  a  good 
man  as  kill  a  good  book  ;  who  kills  a  man  kills  a 
reasonable  creature,  God's  image  ;  but  he  who 
destroys  a  good  book,  kills  reason  itself,  kills  the 
image  of  God,  as  it  were,  in  the  eye.  Many  a  man 
lives  a  burden  to  the  earth  ;  but  a  good  book  is 
the  precious  life-blood  of  a  master-spirit,  embalmed 
and  treasured  up  on  purpose  to  a  life  beyond  life. 
'Tis  true  no  age  can  restore  a  life,  where  perhaps 
there  is  no  great  loss  ;  and  revolutions  of  ages  do 
not  oft  recover  the  loss  of  a  rejected  truth,  for  the 
want  of  which  whole  nations  fare  the  worse.  "We 
should  be  wary,  therefore,  what  persecutions  we 
raise  against  the  living  labours  of  public  men,  how 
spill  that  seasoned  life  of  man,  preserved  and 
stored  up  in  books  ;  since  we  see  a  kind  of  homi- 
cide may  thus  be  committed,  sometimes  a  kind  of 
martyrdom  ;  and  if  it  extend  to  the  whole  impres- 
sion, a  kind  of  massacre,  whereof  the  execution 
ends  not  in  the  slaying  of  an  elemental  life,  but 
strikes  at  that  ethereal  and  soft  essence,  the 
breath  of  reason  itself,  slays  an  immortality 
rather  than  a  life." 


WHAT    MILTON    RECEIVED    FOR    "PARADISE 
LOST." 

IT  is  very  generally  believed  that  Milton  re- 
ceived only  £$•  or  about  $25,  for  the  copy- 
right of  ' '  Paradise  Lost, ' '  but  this  is  a  mistake,  as 
will  appear  by  the  following  true  history  of  the 
immortal  poem  : 

The  Restoration  deprived  Milton  of  his  public 
employment,  and  exposed  him  to  danger,  but  by 
the  interest  of  Davenant  and  Man-ell  (as  has  been 
said),  his  name  was  included  in  the  general  am- 
nesty. The  great  poet  was  now  at  liberty  to  pur- 
sue his  private  studies,  and  to  realize  the  devout 
aspirations  of  his  youth  for  an  immortality  of 
literary  fame.  His  spirit  was  unsubdued.  "  Para- 
dise Lost''  was  begun  in  165S.  He  at  first  in- 
tended it  as  a  drama,  and  two  drafts  of  his  scheme 
are  preserved  among  his  manuscripts  in  Trinity 


College  Library,  Cambridge.  The  poem  was  com- 
pleted in  1665,  at  a  cottage  at  Chalfont,  in  Bucks, 
to  which  the  poet  had  withdrawn  from  the  plague, 
then  raging  in  the  metropolis  ;  but  it  was  not  pub- 
lished till  two  years  afterwards,  when  the  copyright 
was  purchased  by  Samuel  Simmons,  a  bookseller, 
on  the  following  terms  :     An  immediate  payment 
of  ^5,  and  ,£5  more  when  1300  copies  should  be 
sold  ;  the  like  sum  after  the  same  number  of  the 
second  edition  (each  edition  to   consist   of   1500 
copies),  and  other   ^"5  after  the  sale  of  the  third. 
The   third    edition    was  not   published    till   1678 
(when  the  poet  was    no   more),   and   his  widow 
(Milton  married  a  third  time,  about  1660)  sold  all 
her  claims  to  Simmons  for  /"S.     It  appears  that  in 
the  comparatively  short  period  of  two  years,  the 
poet  became  entitled  to  his  second  payment,  so 
that  1300  copies  of   "Paradise  Lost"  had  been 
sold  in  the  first  two  years  of  its  publication — a 
proof  that  the  nation  was  not,  as  has  been  vulgarly- 
supposed ,  insensible  to  the  merits  of  the  divine 
poem  then  entering  on  its  course  of  immortality-. 
It  will  be  seen  from  the  above  statement  that 
Milton  received  during  his  lifetime  ^15,  or  about 
seventy--five  dollars,  and  after  his  death  his  widow 
disposed  of  her  remaining  interest  for  ^S,  or  forty- 
dollars  more,  making  a  total  of  about  $115  that 
Milton  and   his  family  realized  from   the  poem, 
While  this  is  a  very  insignificant  sum,  when  com- 
pared with  the  grandeur  of  the  work,  yet  it  is 
probably  as  much  as  any  modem  publisher  would 
care   to  offer  for  a  similar  work,   should  one  be 
offered  to  him.     In  eleven  years  from  the  date  of 
its  publication,  3000  copies  had  been  sold  ;  and  a 
modern    critic   has    expressed   a    doubt  whether 
"Paradise  Lost,"  published  eleven  years  since, 
would  have  met  with  a    greater  demand  !     The 
fall  of  man  was  a  theme  suited  to  the  serious  part 
of  the  community  in  that  age,  independently-  of 
the   claims  of  a  work  of  genius.     The  Puritans 
had  not  yet  wholly-  died  out — their  beatific  visions 
were  not  quenched  by  the  gross  sensualism  of  the 
times.     Compared  with  Dryden's  plays,  how  pure, 
how  lofty-  and  sanctified,  must  have  appeared  the 
epic  strains  of  Milton  !  The  blank-verse  of  "Para- 
dise Lost "  was,  however,  a  stumblingblock  to  the 
reading   public.       It    is   pleasing   to   reflect  that 
Poverty,  in  her  worst  shape  never  entered  Milton's 
dwelling,  irradiated  by   visions  of  paradise ;  and 
that,  though  long  a  sufferer  from  hereditary  dis- 
ease, his  mind  was  calm  and  bright  to  the  last. 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S    HISTORY. 


177 


He  died  without  a  struggle  on  Sunday  the  8th 
of  November,  1674.  By  his  first  rash  and  ill- 
assorted  marriage,  Milton  left  three  daughters, 
whom,  it  is  said,  he  taught  to  read  and  pronounce 
several  languages,  though  they  only  understood 
their 


native  tongue. 
He  complained  that 
the  children  were 
' '  undutiful  and  un- 
kind" to  him  ;  and 
they  were  all  living 
apart  from  their  illus- 
trious parent  for  some 
years  before  his  death. 
His  widow  inherited 
a  fortune  of  about 
,£1500,  of  which  she 
gave  ^100  to  each  of 
his  daughters. 


Generally,  nature  hangs  out  a  sign  of  simplicity 
in  the  face  of  a  fool,  and  there  is  enough  in  his 
countenance  for  a  hue  and  cry  to  take  him  on  sus- 
picion ;  or  else  it  is  stamped  in  the  figure  of  his 
bodv  ;  their  heads  sometimes  so  little,  that  there 


APHORISMS  OF 
THOMAS  FULLER. 

IT  is  dangerous  to 
gather  flowers 
that  grow  on  the 
banks  of  the  pit  of 
hell,  for  fear  of  falling 
in  ;  yea,  they  which 
play  with  the  devil's 
rattles  will  be  brought 
by  degrees  to  wield 
his  sword  ;  and  from 
making  of  sport,  they 
come  to  doing  of  mis- 
chief. 

Heat  gotten  by  de- 
grees, with  motion 
and  exercise,  is  more 
natural,  and  stays 
longer  by  one,  than 
what  is  gotten  all  at 
or>ce  by  coming  to  the 
fire.  Goods  acquired  by  industry  prove  commonly 
more  lasting  than  lands  by  descent. 

A  public  office  is  a  guest  which  receives  the 
best  usage   from  them  who  never  invited  it. 

Scoff  not  at  the  natural  defects  of  any,  which 
are  not  in  their  power  to  amend.  Oh  !  'tis  cruelty 
to  beat  a  cripple  with  his  own  crutches. 

Anger  is  one  of  the  sinews  of  the  soul :  he  that 
wants  it  hath  a  maimed  mind. 
12 


MILTON   IN    HIS   YOUTH. 

is  no  room  for  wit ;  sometimes  so  long,  that  there 
is  no  wit  for  so  much  room. 

They  that  marry  ancient  people,  merely  in  ex- 
pectation to  bury  them,  hang  themselves,  in  hope 
that  one  will  come  and  cut  the  halter. 

Learning  hath  gained  most  by  those  books  by 
which  the  printers  have  lost. 

Ts  there  no  way  to  bring  home  a  wandering 
sheep  but  by  worrying  him  to  death  ? 


178 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND  THE 


Moderation  is  the  silken  striin 
the  pearl-chain  of  all  virtues. 


runninsr  through 


I 


WARRIORS. 
HATE  these  potent  madmen,  who  keep  all 
Mankind  awake,  while  they,  by  their  great 

deeds, 
Are  drumming  hard  upon  this  hollow  world, 
Only  to  make  a  sound  to  last  for  ages. 

— Nathaniel  Lee. 


SIR    ISAAC   NEWTON. 

CT  IK.  ISAAC  NEWTON,  a  little  before  he  died, 
\>P  said,  "I  don't  know  what  I  may  seem  to 
the  world,  but  as  to  myself,  I  seem  to  have 
been  only  like  a  boy  playing  on  the  sea-shore, 
and  diverting  myself  in  now  and  then  finding  a 
smoother  pebble  or  a  prettier  shell  than  ordinary, 
whilst  the  great  ocean  of  truth  lay  all  undiscov- 
ered before  me." 


THE    GREAT  FIRE  IN  LONDON  DESCRIBED  BY 
AN   EYE-WITNESS 

THE  following  graphic  description  of  the  great 
fire  in  London,  in  1666,  is  from  the  pen  of 
John  Evelyn,  a  philosophical   author  of  distinc- 


tion who  witnessed  the  conflagration.  The  unique 
style  of  composition  prevailing  at  that  period, 
adds  to  the  picturesqueuess  of  the  description : 

"1676.  2d  Sept.  This  fatal  night  about  ten 
began  that  deplorable  fire  near  Fish  Streete  in 
London. 

"3d.  The  fire  continuing,  after  dinner  I  took 
coach  with  my  wife  and  sonn  and  went  to  the 
Bank  side  in  Southwark,  where  we  beheld  that 
dismal  spectacle,  the  whole  citty  in  dreadful 
flames  near  ye  water  side  ;  all  the  houses 
from  the  Bridge,  all  Thames  Street,  and 
upwards  towards  Cheapeside,  down  to 
the  Three  Cranes,  were  now  consum'd. 

"The  fire  having  contiuu'd  all  this 
night  (if  I  may  call  that  night  which 
was  light  as  day  for  10  miles  round 
about,  after  a  dreadful  manner),  when 
conspiring  with  a  fierce  eastern  wind  in 
a  very  drie  season,  I  went  on  foote  to 
the  same  place,  and  saw  the  whole  south 
part  of  ye  cittj-  burning  from  Cheapeside 
to  ye  Thames,  and  all  along  Cornehill 
(for  it  kindl'd  back  against  ye  wind  as 
well  as  forward),  Tower  Streete,  Fen- 
church  Streete,  Gracious  Streete,  and  so 
along  to  Bainard's  Castle,  and  was  now 
taking  hold  of  St.  Paule's  church,  to 
which  the  scaffolds  contributed  exceed- 
ingly. The  conflagration  was  so  univer- 
sal, and  the  people  so  astonish'd,  that 
from  the  beginning,  I  know  not  by  what 
despondency  or  fate,  the}'  hardly  stirr'd 
to  quench  it,  so  that  there  was  nothing 
heard  or  seene  but  crying  out  and  lamen- 
tation, running  about  like  distracted 
creatures,  without  at  all  attempting  to 
save  even  their  goods,  such  a  strange  conster- 
nation there  was  upon  them,  so  as  it  burned 
both  iu  breadth  and  length,  the  churches,  pub- 
liq  halls,  exchange,  hospitals,  monuments,  and 
ornaments,  leaping  after  a  prodigious  manner 
from  house  to  house  and  streete  to  streete,  at 
greate  distances  one  from  ye  other ;  for  ye  heate 
with  a  long  set  of  faire  and  warme  weather  had 
even  ignited  the  air,  and  prepar'd  the  materials  to 
conceive  the  fire,  which  devour'd,  after  an  incred- 
ible manner,  houses,  furniture,  and  everything. 
Here  we  saw  the  Thames  cover' d  with  goods 
floating,  all  the  barges  and  'boates  laden  with 
what  some  had  time  and  courage  to  save,  as,  on 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


179 


ye  other,  ye  carts,  &c. ,  carrying  out  to  the  fields, 
which  for  many  miles  were  strew' d  with  move- 
ables of  all  sorts,  and  tents  erecting  to  shelter  both 
people  and  what  goods  they  could  get  away.  Oh 
the  miserable  and  calamitous  spectacle !  such  as 
haply  the  world  had  not  seene  the  like  since  the 
foundation  of  it,  nor  be  outdone  till  the  universal 
conflagration.  All  the  skie  was  of  a  fiery  aspect, 
like  the  top  of  a  burning  oven,  the  light  seene 
above  40  miles  round  about  for  many  nights. 
God  grant  my  eyes  may  never  behold  the  like, 
now  seeing  above  10,000  houses  all  in  one  flame: 
the  noise,  and  crackling,  and  thunder  of  the  im- 
petuous flames,  ye  shrieking  of  women  and  chil- 
dren, the  hurry  of  people,  the  fall  of  towers,  houses, 
and  churches,  was  like  an  hideous  storme,  and 
the  aire  all  about  so  hot  and  inflam'd,  that  at  last 
one  was  not  able  to  approach  it,  so  that  they  were 
fore'  d  to  stand  still  and  let  ye  flames  burn  on,  well 
the}-  did  for  neere  two  miles  in  length  and  one  in 
bredth.  The  clouds  of  smoke  were  dismall,  and 
reacli'd  upon  computation  neer  50  miles  in  length. 
Thus  I  left  it  this  afternoon  burning,  a  resem- 
blance of  Sodom  or  the  last  day.  London  was, 
but  is  no  more ! 

' '  4th.  The  burning  still  rages,  and  it  was  now 
gotten  as  far  as  the  Inner  Temple,  all  Fleete 
Streete,  the  Old  Bailey,  Ludgate  Hill,  Warwick 
Lane,  Newgate,  Paul's  Chain,  Watling  Streete, 
now  flaming,  and  most  of  it  redue'd  to  ashes  ;  the 
stones  of  Paules  flew  like  granados,  ye  meal  ting 
lead  running  downe  the  streetes  in  a  streame,  and 
the  very  pavements  glowing  with  fiery  rednesse, 
so  as  no  horse  nor  man  was  able  to  tread  on  them, 
and  the  demolition  had  stopp'd  all  the  passages, 
so  that  no  help  could  be  applied.  The  eastern 
wind  still  more  impetuoudy  drove  the  flames  for- 
ward. Nothing  but  ye  Almighty  power  of  God 
was  able  to  stop  them,  for  vaine  was  ye  help  of 
man. 

"5th.  It  crossed  towards  Whitehall:  Oh  the 
confusion  there  was  then  at  the  court !  It  pleased 
his  Ma'ty  to  command  me  among  ye  rest  to  looke 
after  the  quenching  of  Fetter  Lane  end,  to  pre- 
serve if  possible,  that  part  of  Holborn,  whilst  the 
rest  of  ye  gentlemen  tooke  their  several  posts  (for 
now  thej-  began  to  bestir  themselves,  and  not  till 
now,  who  hitherto  had  stood  as  men  intoxicated, 
with  their  hands  acrosse),  and  began  to  consider 
that  nothing  was  likely  to  put  a  stop  but  the 
blowing  up  of  so  many  houses,  as  might  make  a 


wider  gap  than  any  had  yet  ben  made  by  the 
ordinary  method  of  pulling  them  down  with  en- 
gines ;  this  some  stout  seamen  propos'd  early 
enyugh  to  have  sav'd  near  ye  whole  citty,  but  this 
some  tenacious  and  avaritious  men,  aldermen,  etc.,- 
would  not  permit,  because  their  houses  must  have 
ben  of  the  first.  It  was  therefore  now  commanded 
to  be  practis'd,  and  my  concern  being  particularly 
for  the  hospital  of  St.  Bartholomew,  neere  Smith- 
field,  where  I  had  many  wounded  and  sick  men, 
made  me  the  more  diligent  to  promote  it,  nor  was 
my  care  for  the  Savoy  lesse.  It  now  pleas' d  God, 
by  abating  the  wind,  and  by  the  Industrie  of  ye 
people,  infusing  a  new  spirit  into  them,  that  tht 
fury  of  it  began  sensibly  to  abate  about  'noone,  so 
as  it  came  no  farther  than  ye  Temple  westward, 
nor  than  ye  entrance  of  Smithfield  north.  But 
continu'd  all  this  day  and  night  so  impetuous 
towards  Cripplegate  and  the  Tower,  as  made  us 
all  despaire  ;  it  also  broke  out  againe  in  the  Tem- 
ple, but  the  courage  of  the  multitude  persisting, 
and  many  houses  being  blown  up,  such  gaps  and 
desolations  were  soone  made,  as  with  the  former 
three  days'  consumption,  the  back  fire  did  not  so 
vehemently  urge  upon  the  rest  as  formerly.  There 
was  yet  no  standing  neere  the  burning  and  glow- 
ing ruines  by  neere  a  furlong's  space. 

' '  The  coale  and  wood  wharfes  and  magazines 
of  oyle,  rosin,  &c. ,  did  infinite  mischeife,  so  as  the 
invective  which  a  little  before  I  had  dedicated  to 
his  Ma'ty,  and  published,  giving  warning  what 
might  probably  be  the  issue  of  suffering  those 
shops  to  be  in  the  citty,  was  look'd  on  as  a 
prophecy. 

"The  poore  inhabitants  were  dispers'd  about 
St.  George's  Fields,  and  Moorefields,  as  far  as 
Highgate,  and  severall  miles  in  circle,  some  under 
tents,  some  under  miserable  hutts  and  hovells, 
many  without  a  rag  or  any  necessary  utensills,  bed 
or  board,  who,  from  delicatenesse,  riches,  and  easy 
accommodations  in  stately  and  well  furnish' d 
houses,  were  now  redue'd  to  extreamest  misery 
and  poverty. 

In  this  calamitous  condition,  I  return'd  with  a 
sad  heart  to  my  house,  blessing  and  adoring  the 
mercy  of  God  to  me  and  mine,  who  in  the  midst 
of  all  this  mine  was  like  Lot,  in  my  little  Zoar, 
safe  and  sound. 

' '  7th.  I  went  this  morning  on  foote  fin  White- 
hall as  far  as  London  Bridge,  thro'  the  late  Fleete 
Street,  Ludgate  Hill,  by  St.  Paules,  Cheapeside, 


1 1  So; 


VICTIMS   OK   THE   GREAT   FIRF,. 


THE   BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


181 


Exchange,  Bishopgate,  Aldersgate,  and  out  to 
Moorefields,  thence  thro'  Cornehill,  &c,  with  ex- 
traordinary difficult)-,  clambering  over  heaps  of 
yet  smoking  rubbish,  and  frequently  mistaking 
where  I  was.  The  ground  under  my  feete  was  so 
hot,  that  it  even  burnt  the  soles  of  my  shoes.  In 
the  meantime  his  Ma'ty  got  to  the  Tower  by  water, 
to  demolish  ye  houses  about  the  graff,  which  being 
built  entirely  about  it,  had  the}'  taken  fire  and  at- 
tack'd  the  White  Tower  where  the  magazine  of 
powder  la)',  would  undoubtedly  not  only  have 
beaten  downe  and  destroy' d  all  ye  bridge,  but 
tiunke  and  torne  the  vessells  in  ye  river,  and  ren- 
der'd  ye  demolition  beyond  all  expression  for  sev- 
eral miles  about  the  countrey. 

"At  my  return,  I  was  infinitely  concern'd  to 
find  that  goodly  church  St.  Paules,  now  a  sad 
mine,  and  that  beautiful  portico  (for  structure 
comparable  to  any  in  Europe,  as  not  long  before 
repair' d  by  the  king)  now  rent  in  pieces,  flakes  of 
vast  stone  split  asunder,  and  nothing  remaining 
intire  but  the  inscription  in  the  architrave,  show- 
ing by  whom  it  was  built,  which  had  not  one  let- 
ter of  it  defac'd.  It  was  astonishing  to  see  what 
:mmense  stones  the  heat  had  in  a  manner  calcin'd, 
so  that  all  ye  ornaments,  columns,  freezes,  and 
projectures  of  massie  Portland  stone  flew  off,  even 
to  ye  very  roofe,  where  a  sheet  of  lead  covering  a 
great  space  was  totally  mealted  ;  the  ruines  of  the 
vaulted  roofe  falling  broke  into  St  Faith's,  which 
being  filled  with  the  magazines  of  bookes  belong- 
ing to  ye  stationers,  and  carried  thither  for  safety, 
the}'  were  all  consum'd,  burning  for  a  weeke  fol- 
lowing. It  is  also  observable,  that  the  lead  over 
ye  altar  at  ye  east  end  was  untouch'd,  and  among 
the  divers  monuments,  the  body  of  one  bishop 
remain' d  intire.  Thus  lay  in  ashes  that  most 
venerable  church,  one  of  the  most  ancient  pieces 
of  early  piety  in  ye  Christian  world,  besides  neere 
ioo  more.  The  lead,  yron  worke,  bells,  plate,  &c, 
mealted ;  the  exquisitely  wrought  Mercers 
Chapell,  the  sumptuous  Exchange,  ye  august 
fabriq  of  Christ  Church,  all  ye  rest  of  the  Compa- 
nies Halls,  sumptuous  buildings,  arches,  all  in 
dust;  the  fountaines  dried  up  and  ruin' d,  whilst 
the  very  waters  remain'd  boiling  ;  the  vorago's  of 
subterranean  cellars,  wells,  and  dungeons,  for- 
merly warehouses,  still  burning  in  stench  and 
dark  clouds  of  smoke,  so  that  in  5  or  6  miles, 
in  traversing  about,  I  did  not  see  one  load  of  tim- 


ber unconsum'd,  nor  many  stones  but  what  were 
calcin'd  white  as  snow. 

"The  people  who  now  walk' d  about  ye  ruines 
appear' d  like  men  in  a  dismal  desart,  or  rather  in 
some  greate  citty  laid  waste  by  a  cruel  enemy  ;  to 
which  was  added  the  stench  that  came  from  some 
poore  creatures  bodies,  beds,  &c.  Sir  Tho.  Gress- 
ham's  statue,  tho'  fallen  from  its  nich  in  the 
Royal  Exchange,  remain'd  intire,  when  all  those 
of  ye  kings  since  ye  Conquest  were  broken  to 
pieces,  also  the  standard  in  Cornehill,  and  Q.  Eliza- 
beth's effigies,  with  some  armes  on  Eudgate,  con- 
tinued with  but  little  detriment,  whilst  the  vast 
yron  chaines  of  the  citty  streetes,  hinges,  bars, 
and  gates  of  prisons,  were  many  or  them  mealted 
and  reduc'd  to  cinders  by  ye  vehement  heate.  I 
was  not  able  to  passe  through  any  of  the  narrow 
streetes,  but  kept  the  widest ;  the  ground  and  air, 
smoake  and  fiery  vapour  continu'd  so  intense,  that 
my  haire  was  almost  sing'd,  and  my  feete  un- 
sufferably  sur-heated.  The  bie  lanes  and  nar- 
rower streetes  were  quite  filled  up  with  rubbish, 
nor  could  one  have  knowne  where  he  was,  but 
by  ye  ruines  of  some  church  or  hall,  that  had 
some   remarkable  tower  or    pinnacle   remaining. 

1  then  went  towards  Islington  and  Highgate, 
where  one  might  have  seene  200,000  people  of 
all  ranks  and  degrees  dispers'd  and  lying  along 
by  their  heapes  of  what  they  could  save  from 
the  fire,  deploring  their  losse  ;  and  tho'  ready  to 
perish  for  hunger  and  destitution,  yet  not  asking 
one  penny  for  relief,  which  to  me  appear' d  a 
stranger  sight  than  any  I  had  yet  beheld.  His 
Majesty  and  Council  indeede  tooke  all  imagina- 
ble care  for  their  reliefe,  by  proclamation  for 
the  country  to  come  in  and  refresh  them  with 
provisions.  In  ye  midst  of  all  this  calamity  and 
confusion,  there  was,  I  know  not  how,  an  alarme 
begun  that  the  French  and  Dutch,  with  whom 
we  were  now  in  hostility,  were  not  onely  landed, 
but  even  entering  the  citty.  There  was,  in 
truth,  some  days  before,  greate  suspicion  of  those 

2  nations  joining  ;  and  now,  that  they  had  ben 
the  occasion  of  firing  the  towne.  This  report 
did  so  terrifie,  that  on  a  suddaine  there  was 
such  an  uproare  and  tumult,  that  they  ran  from 
their  goods,  and  taking  what  weapons  they 
could  come  at,  they  could  not  be  stopp'd  from 
falling  on  some  of  those  nations,  whom  they 
casually   met,    without    sense    or    reason.      The 


182 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


clamour  and  peril  grew  so  excessive,  that  it 
made  the  whole  court  amaz'd,  and  they  did 
with  infinite  paiues  and  greate  difficulty  reduce 
and  appease  the  people,  sending  troops  of  sol- 
diers and  guards  to  cause  them  to  retire  into  ye 
fields  againe,  where  they  were  watch' d  all  this 
night.  I  left  them  pretty  quiet,  and  came  home 
sufficiently  weary  and  broken.  Their  spirits 
thus  a  little  calmed,  and  the  affright  abated, 
thej'  now  began  to  repaire  into  ye  suburbs  about 
the  citty,  where  such  as  had  friends  or  oppor- 
tunity got  shelter  for  the  present,  to  which  his 
Ma' tys  proclamation  also  invited  them." 


iESOP'S  INVENTION  TO  BRING  HIS  MIS- 
TRESS BACK  AGAIN  TO  HER  HUSBAND 
AFTER   SHE   HAD  LEFT   HIM. 

BY   SIR    ROGER    L' ESTRANGE. 

THE  wife  of  Xanthus  was  well  bora  and 
wealthy,  but  so  proud  and  domineering 
withal,  as  if  her  fortune  and  her  extraction  had 
entitled  her  to  the  breeches.  She  was  horribly 
bold,  meddling  and  expensive  (as  that  sort  of 
women  commonly  are),  easily  put  off  the  hooks, 
and  monstrous  hard  to  be  pleased  again  ;  perpe- 
tually chattering  at  her  husband,  and  upon  all 
occasions  of  controversy  threatening  him  to  be 
gone.  It  came  to  this  at  last,  that  Xanthus' s 
stock  of  patience  being  quite  spent,  he  took  up  a 
resolution  of  going  another  way  to  work  with  her, 
and  of  trying  a  course  of  severity,  since  there 
was  nothing  to  be  done  with  her  by  kind- 
ness. But  this  experiment,  instead  of  mending 
the  matter,  made  it  worse  ;  for,  upon  harder 
usage,  the  woman  grew  desperate,  and  went 
away  from  him,  in  earnest.  She  was  as 
bad,  'tis  true,  as  bad  might  well  be,  and  yet 
Xanthus  had  a  kind  of  hankering  for  her  still ; 
beside  that,  there  was  a  matter  of  interest  in  the 
case  ;  and  a  pestilent  tongue  she  had,  that  the  poor 
husband  dreaded  above  all  things  under  the  sun. 
But  the  man  was  willing,  however,  to  make  the 
best  of  a  bad  game,  and  so  his  wits  and  his  friends 
were  set  at  work,  in  the  fairest  manner  that  might 
be,  to  get  her  home  again.  But  there  was  no 
good  to  be  done  in  it,  it  seems ;  and  Xanthus  was 
so  visibly  out  of  humour  upon  it,  that  JBsop  in 
pure  pity  bethought  himself  immediately  how  to 
comfort  him.  "  Come,  master,"  says  he,  "pluck 
up  a  good  heart,  for  I  have  a  project  in  my  noddle, 
that  shall  bring  my  mistress  to  you  back  again, 


with  as  good  a  will  as  ever  she  went  from  you.1' 
What  does  my  -Esop,  but  away  immediately  to 
the  market  among  the  butchers,  poulterers,  fish- 
mongers, confectioners,  &c. ,  for  the  best  of  every- 
thing that  was  in  season.  Nay,  he  takes  private 
people  in  this  way  too,  and  chops  into  the  very 
house  of  his  mistress's  relations,  as  by  mistake. 
This  way  of  proceeding  set  the  whole  town  agog 
to  know  the  meaning  of  all  this  bustle  ;  and  TJsop 
innocently  told  everybody  that  his  master's  wife 
was  run  away  from  him,  and  he  had  married  an- 
other ;  his  friends  up  and  down  were  all  invited 
to  come  and  make  merry  with  him,  and  this  was 
to  be  the  wedding  feast.  The  news  flew  like 
lightning,  and  happy  were  they  that  could  carry 
the  first  tidings  of  it  to  the  run-away  lady  (for 
everybody  knew  ^Esop  to  be  a  servant  in  that 
family).  It  gathered  in  the  rolling,  as  all  other 
stories  do  in  the  telling,  especially  where  women's 
tongues  and  passions  have  the  spreading  of  them. 
The  wife,  that  was  in  her  nature  violent  and  un- 
steady, ordered  her  chariot  to  be  made  read}-  im- 
mediately, and  away  she  posts  back  to  her  hus- 
band, falls  upon  him  with  outrages  of  looks  and 
language  ;  and  after  the  easing  of  her  mind  a 
little,  "  Xo,  Xanthus,"  says  she,  "do  not  you. 
flatter  yourself  with  the  hopes  of  enjoying  another 
woman  while  I  am  alive. ' '  Xanthus  looked  upon 
this  as  one  of  ..Esop's  masterpieces;  and  for  that 
bout  all  was  well  again  betwixt  master  and 
mistress. 


RICHARD  BAXTER'S  ESTIMATE  OF  HIS  OWN 

WRITINGS  AND  THE  HISTORIES  OF 

HIS  TIME. 

IF  Richard  Baxter  had  not  written  "The  Saint's 
Everlasting  Rest,"    he    perhaps   would    not 
have  attained  to  immortality.     He  expresses  his 
•own  judgment  of  that  work,  as  well  as  his  other 
writings,  in  the  following  style  : 

"Concerning  almost  all  my  writings,  I  must 
confess  that  my  own  judgment  is,  that  fewer,  well 
studied  and  polished,  had  been  better;  but  the 
reader  who  can  safely  censure  the  books,  is  not  fit 
to  censure  the  author,  unless  he  had  been  upon  the 
place,  and  acquainted  with  all  the  occasions  and 
circumstances.  Indeed,  for  the  '  Saint's  Rest,'  I 
had  four  months'  vacancy  to  write  it,  but  in  the 
midst  of  continual  languishing  and  medicine  ;  but, 
for  the  rest,  I  wrote  them  in  the  crowd  of  all  my 
other   employments,    which   would    allow  me  no 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


183 


gieat  leisure  for  polishing  and  exactness,  or  any 
ornament ;  so  that  I  scarce  ever  wrote  one  sheet 
twice  over,  nor  stayed  to  make  any  blots  or  inter- 
linings,  but  was  fain  to  let  it  go  as  it  was  first  con- 
ceived ;  and  when  my  own  desire  was  rather  to 
stay  upon  one  thing  long  than  run  over  many, 
some  sudden  occasions  or  other  extorted  almost 
all  my  writings  from  me ;  and  the  apprehensions 
of  present  usefulness  or  necessity  prevailed  against 
all  other  motives  ;  so  that  the  divines  which  were 
at  hand  with  me  still  put  me  on,  and  approved  of 
what  I  did,  because  they  were  moved  by  present 
necessities  as  well  as  I ;  but  those  that  were  far 
off,  and  felt  not  those  nearer  motives,  did  rather 
wish  that  I  had  taken  the  other  way,  and  pub- 
lished a  few  elaborate  writings  ;  and  I  am  ready 
myself  to  be  of  their  mind,  when  I  forget  the  case 
that  I  then  stood  in,  and  have  lost  the  sense  of 
former  motives."         *         * 

Baxter  entertained  a  very  poor  opinion  of  the 
histories  of  his  times,  as  will  be  seen  by  the  fol- 
lowing extract  from  his  writings  : 

' '  I  am  abundantly  satisfied  by  the  experience 
of  this  age  that  there  is  no  believing  two  sorts 
of  men,  ungodly  men  and  partial  men  ;  though  an 
honest  heathen,  of  no  religion,  may  be  believed, 
where  enmity  against  religion  biasseth  him  not ; 
yet  a  debauched  Christian,  besides  his  enmity  to 
the  power  and  practice  of  his  own  religion,  is 
seldom  without  some  further  bias  of  interest  or 
faction  ;  especially  when  these  concur,  and  a  man 
is  both  ungodly  and  ambitious,  espousing  an  in- 
terest contrary  to  a  holy  heavenly  life,  and  also 
factious,  embodying  himself  with  a  sect  or  party 
suited  to  his  spirit  and  1  -signs  ;  there  is  no  believ- 
ing his  word  or  oath.  If  you  read  any  man  par- 
tially bitter  against  others,  as  differing  from  him 
in  opinion,  or  as  cross  to  his  greatness,  interest,  or 
designs,  take  heed  how  you  believe  any  more 
than  the  historical  evidence,  distinct  from  his 
word,  compelleth  you  to  believe.  The  prodigious 
lies  which  have  been  published  in  this  age  in 
matters  of  fact,  with  unblushing  confidence,  even 
where  thousands  or  multitudes  of  eye  and  ear- 
witnesses  knew  all  to  be  false,  doth  call  men  to 
take  heed  what  history  they  believe,  especially 
where  power  and  violence  affordeth  that  privilege 
to  the  reporter,  that  no  man  dare  answer  him,  or 
detect  his  fraud  ;  or  if  they  do,  their  writings  are 
all  supprest.  As  long  as  men  have  liberty  to  ex- 
amine and  contradict  one  another,  one  may  partly 


conjecture,  by  comparing  their  words,  on  which 
side  the  truth  is  like  to  lie.  But  when  great  men 
write  histor}-,  or  flatterers  by  their  appointment, 
which  no  man  dare  contradict,  believe  it  but  a? 
you  are  constrained." 

Observance  of  the  Sabbath  in  Baxter's  Youth. 
I  cannot  forget,  that  in  my  youth,  in  those  late 
times,  when  we  lost  the  labours  of  some  of  our 
conformable  godly  teachers,  for  not  reading  pub- 
licly the  book  of  sports  and  dancing  on  the  Lord's 
Day,  one  of  my  father's  own  tenants  was  the  town 
piper,  hired  by  the  year  (for  many  years  together), 
and  the  place  of  the  dancing  assembly  was  not  an 
hundred  yards  from  our  door.  We  could  not,  on 
the  Lord's  Day,  either  read  a  chapter,  or  pray,  or 
sing  a  psalm,  or  catechise,  or  instruct  a  servant, 
but  with  the  noise  of  the  pipe  and  tabor,  and  the 
shoutings  in  the  street,  continually  in  our  ears. 
Even  among  a  tractable  people,  we  were  the  com- 
mon scorn  of  all  the  rabble  in  the  streets,  and 
called  puritans,  precisians,  and  hypocrites,  because 
we  rather  chose  to  read  the  Scriptures  than  to  do 
as  they  did  ;  though  there  was  no  savour  of 
nonconformity  in  our  family.  And  when  the  peo- 
ple by  the  book  were  allowed  to  play  and  dance 
out  of  public  service  time,  they  could  so  hardly 
break  off  their  sports,  that  man)-  a  time  the  reader 
was  fain  to  stay  till  the  piper  and  players  would 
give  over.  Sometimes  the  morris-dancers  would 
come  into  the  church  in  all  their  linen,  and  scarfs, 
and  antic-dresses,  with  morris-bells  jingling  at 
their  legs  ;  and  as  soon  as  common  prayer  was 
read,  did  haste  out  presently  to  their  play  again. 

A  SHORT  HISTORY  OF    GEORGE  FOX. 

GEORGE  FOX,  the  founder  of  the  Society 
of  Friends,  or,  as  they  are  usually  termed, 
Quakers,  was  one  of  the  most  prominent  religious 
enthusiasts  in  an  age  which  produced  them  in  ex- 
traordinary abundance.  He  was  the  son  of  a 
weaver  at  Drayton,  in  Leicestershire,  and  was 
born  in  1624.  Having  been  apprenticed  to  a 
shoemaker,  who  traded  in  wool  and  cattle,  he  spent 
much  of  his  youth  in  tending  sheep,  an  employ- 
ment which  allowed  him  to  indulge  his  propensity 
for  musing  and  solitude.  When  about  nineteen 
years  of  age,  he  was  one  day  vexed  by  a  disposi- 
tion to  intemperance  which  he  observed  in  two 
professedly  religious  friends  whom  he  met  at  a 
fair.      "I   went  away,"  says  he  in   his  Journal, 


184 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


''and    when   I   had  done    my    business  returned 
home ;  but  I  did  not  go  to   bed  that  night,    nor 
could  I  sleep ;  but  sometimes  walked  up  and  down, 
and  sometimes  prayed,  and  cried  to  the  Lord,  who 
said  unto  me,    '  Thou  seest  how  young  people  go 
together  into  vanity,  and  old  people  into  the  earth  ; 
■thou  must  forsake  all,  young  and  old,  keep  out  of 
all,  and  be  a  stranger  to  all.'  "     This  divine  com- 
munication, as  in  the  warmth  of  his   imagination 
he  considered  it  to   be,  was  scrupulously  obeyed. 
Leaving  his  relations  and  master  he  betook  him- 
self for  several  years  to  a  wandering  life,  which 
was  interrupted  only  for  a  few  mouths,   during 
which    lie     was     prevailed     upon    to    reside     at 
home.     At  this  time  he  seems  to  have  been  com- 
pletely insane.      In  the  course  of  his  melancholy 
wanderings,    he  sometimes,    for   weeks   together, 
passed    the    night    in    the   open    air,  and  used  to 
spend   entire    days    without    sustenance.      "My 
troubles,"  says  he,   "continued,  aud  I  was  often 
under  great  temptations.     I  fasted  much,  walked 
abroad  in  solitary  places  many  days,   and  often 
took  my  Bible  and  sat  in  hollow  trees  and  lone- 
some places  until  night  came  on  ;  and  frequently 
i.i  the  night  walked  mournfully  about  by  myself; 
for  1  was  a  man  of  sorrows  in  the  first  workings 
of  the  Lord  in  me."     On  another  occasion,   "I 
was  in  a  fast  for  about  ten  days,  my  spirit  being 
greatly  exercised   on   truth's  behalf."       At    this 
period,   as  well  as  during  the  remainder  of  his 
life,  Fox  had  many  dreams  and  visions,  and  sup- 
posed  himself   to  receive  supernatural  messages 
from  above.     In  his  Journal  he  gives  an   account 
of  a  particular  movement  of  his  mind  in  singularly 
beautiful  and  impressive  language:   "One  morn- 
ing, as  I  was  sitting  by  the  fire,   a  great  cloud 
came  over  me,  and  a  temptation  beset  me,  and  I 
sate  still.      And  it  was  said,    All  things  come  by 
nature;  and   the  Elements  and  Stars  came  over 
me,  so  that  I  was  in  a  moment  quite  clouded  with 
(t ;  but,  inasmuch  as  I  sate  still  and  said  nothing, 
the  people  of  the  house  perceived  nothing.     And 
as  I  sate  still   under  it   and  let  it  alone,   a  living 
hope  rose  in   me,  and   a  true  voice  arose  in   me 
which  cried,  There  is  a  living  God  who  made  all 
things.     And  immediately  the  cloud  and  tempta- 
tion vanished  away,  and  the  life  rose  over  it  all, 
and  my  heart  was  glad,  and  I  praised  the  living 
God."       Afterwards,    he  tells    us,    "The  Lord's 
power  broke  forth,  and  I  had  great  openings  and 
prophecies,    and    spoke  unto    the  people  of  the 


things  of  God,  which  they  heard  with    attention 
and  silence,  and  went  away  aud  spread  the  fame 
thereof. ' '     Conceiving  himself  to  be  divinely  com- 
missioned to  convert  his  countrymen  from  their 
sins,  he  began,  about  the  year  1647,  to  teach  pub- 
licly in  the  vicinity  of    Duckenfield  and    Man- 
chester,   whence    he    travelled    through    several 
neighboring  counties,  haranguing  at  the  market- 
places against  the  vices  of  the  age.     He  had  now 
formed  the  opinions,  that  a  learned  education  is 
unnecessary  to  a  minister ;  that  the  existence  of  a 
separate  clerical  profession  is  unwarranted  by  the 
Bible;    that  the  Creator  of  the  world  is   not  a 
dweller  in  temples  made  with   hands;  and  that 
the  Scriptures  are  not  the  rule  either  of  conduct 
or  judgment,   but  that  man  should  follow  "the 
light  of  Christ  within."      He  believed,  moreover, 
that  he  was  divinely  commanded  to  abstain  from 
taking  off  his  hat  to  any  one,   of  whatever  rank ; 
to  use  the  words  thee  and  thou  in  addressing  all 
persons  with  whom  he  communicated ;  to  bid  no- 
body good-morrow  or  good-night ;  and  never  to 
bend  his  knee  to  any  one  in  authority,  or  take  an 
oath,  even  on  the  most  solemn  occasion.      Acting 
upon    these    views,    he    sometimes     went     into 
churches  while  service  was  going  on,   and  inter- 
rupted   the  clergymen    by  loudly    contradicting 
their  statements  of  doctrine.      By  these  breaches 
of  order,   and  the  employment  of  such  uncere- 
monious  fashions  of  address,   as,  "Come  down, 
thou  deceiver ! "  he  naturally  gave  great  offence, 
which   led  sometimes  to  his  imprisonment,  and 
sometimes  to  severe  treatment  from  the  hands  of 
the  populace.     At  Derby,  he  was  imprisoned  in  a 
loathsome  dungeon  for  a  year,  and  afterwards  in  a 
still  more  disgusting  cell  at  Carlisle  for  half  that 
period.     To  this  ill-treatment  he  submitted  with 
meekness  and  resignation  ;  and  out  of  prison,  also, 
there  was  ample  opportunity  for  the  exercise  of 
the  same  qualities.       As  an  illustration    of  the 
rough  usuage  which  he  frequently  brought  upon 
himself,  we  extract  this  affecting  narrative  from 
his  Journal : — 

Fox's  Ill-treatment  at  Ulverstone. 

The  people  were  in  a  rage,  and  fell  upon  me  in 
the  steeple-house  before  his  [Justice  Sawrey's] 
face,  knocked  me  down,  kicked  me,  and  trampled 
upon  me.  So  great  was  the  uproar,  that  some 
tumbled  over  their  seats  for  fear.  At  last  he  came 
and  took  me  from  the  people,  led  me  out  of  the 
steeple-house,  and  put  me  into  the  hands  of  the 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


185 


constables  and  other  officers,  bidding  them  whip 
me,  and  put  me  out  of  the  town.  Many  friendly 
people  being  come  to  the  market,  and  some  to  the 
steeple-house  to  hear  me,  divers  of  these  they 
knocked  down  also,  and  broke  their  heads,  so 
that  the  blood  ran  down  several ;  and  Judge  Fell'.: 
son  running  after,  to  see  what  they  would  do  with 
me,  they  threw  him  into  a  ditch  of  water,  some 
of  them  crying,  ' '  Knock  the  teeth  out  of  his 
head. ' '  When  they  had  haled  me  to  the  common 
moss  side,  a  multitude  following,  the  constables 
and  other  officers  gave  me  some  blows  over  my 
back  with  willow-rods,  and  thrust  me  among  the 
rude  multitude,  who,  having  furnished  themselves 
with  staves,  hedge-stakes,  holm  or  holly-bushes, 
fell  upon  me,  and  beat  me  upon  the  head,  arms, 
and  shoulders,  till  they  had  deprived  me  of 
sense ;  so  that  I  fell  down  upon  the  wet  common. 
When  I  recovered  again,  and  saw  myself  lying  in 
a  watery  common,  and  the  people  standing  about 
me,  I  lay  still  a  little  while,  and  the  power  of  the 
Lord  sprang  through  me,  and  the  eternal  refresh- 
ings revived  me,  so  that  I  stood  up  again  in  the 
strengthening  power  of  the  eternal  God,  and 
stretching  out  my  arms  amongst  them,  I  said 
with  a  loud  voice,  ' '  Strike  again  !  here  are  my 
arms,  my  head,  and  cheeks  ! ' '  Then  they  began 
to  fall  out  among  themselves. 

Fox  not  only  acted  as  a  prophet,  but  assumed 
the  power  of  working  miracles — in  the  exercise 
of  which  he  claims  to  have  cured  various  indivi- 
duals, including  a  man  whose  arm  had  long  been 
disabled,  and  a  woman  afflicted  with  king's  evil, 
or  scrofula.  On  one  occasion  he  ran  with  bare 
feet  through  Litchfield,  exclaiming,  "Wo  to  the 
bloody  city  of  Litchfield  ! ' '  and,  when  no  calamity 
followed  this  denouncement,  as  expected,  he  found 
no  better  mode  of  accounting  for  the  failure  than 
discovering  that  some  Christians  had  once  been 
slain  there  !  Of  his  powers  of  discerning  witches, 
the  following  examples  are  given  in  his  Jownal  : 
"As  I  was  sitting  in  a  house  full  of  people,  de- 
claring the  word  of  life  to  them,  I  cast  mine  eyes 
upon  a  woman,  and  I  discovered  an  unclean  spirit 
in  her ;  and  I  was  moved  of  the  Lord  to  speak 
sharply  to  her,  and  told  her  she  was  a  witch  ; 
whereupon  the  woman  went  out  of  the  room,  and 
I  being  a  stranger  there,  and  knowing  nothing  of 
the  woman  outwardly,  the  people  wondered  at  it, 
and  told  me  afterwards,  I  had  discovered  a  great 
thing,  for  all  the  country  looked  upon  her  as  a 


witch.  The  Lord  had  given  me  a  spirit  of  dis- 
cerning, by  which  I  many  times  saw  the  states 
and  conditions  of  people,  and  could  try  their 
spirits.  For,  not  long  before,  as  I  was  going  to  a 
meeting,  I  saw  women  in  a  field,  and  I  discerned 
them  to  be  witches ;  and  I  was  moved  to  go  out 
of  my  way  into  the  field  to  them,  and  to  declare 
unto  them  their^conditions,  telling  them  plainly 
they  were  in  the  spirit  of  witchcraft.  At  another 
time,  there  came  such  an  one  into  Swarthmore 
Hall,  in  the  meeting  time,  and  I  was  moved  to 
speak  sharply  to  her,  and  told  her  she  was  a  witch ; 
and  the  people  said  afterwards,  she  was  generally 
accounted  so." 


CURIOUS  CUSTOMS    OF    THE    MIDDLE    AGES. 

THE  feudal  lords  erected  castles  as  a  protection 
against  one  another,  and  also  as  a  barrier  to 
the  encroachments  of  the  Danish  freebooters  or 
Northmen.  In  turn  the  owners  of  these  castles 
became  the  disturbers  of  the  public  repose ;  they 
were,  in  fact,  highway  robbers,  sallying  out  of 
their  strongholds,  at  the  head  of  their  vassals,  to 
rob  and  plunder  their  weaker  neighbors.  They 
pillaged  whoever  passed,  carrying  off  as  their 
special  prizes  the  women  whose  comeliness  of  form 
or  feature  pleased  them.  Many  women,  as  a  pro- 
tection against  the  marauders,  entered  the  con- 
vents and  took  the  veil,  which,  in  those  supersti- 
tious times,  was  generally  a  protection  against  all 
kinds  of  violence.  Society  was  so  barbarous  and 
degraded  that  even  the  monks  engaged  in  those 
lawless  enterprises.  De  Saint  Foix,  in  his  His- 
torical Essays,  asserts  that  women  and  girls  were 
in  no  greater  security  when  passing  the  abbeys, 
than  in  the  presence  of  the  castles  of  the  lords. 
The  monks  allowed  their  monasteries  to  be  as- 
saulted rather  than  relinquish  their  prey ;  and  if 
they  saw  themselves  losing  ground,  the}-  exhibited 
from  their  walls  the  relics  of  some  saint.  Then  it 
generally  happened  that  the  assailants,  seized 
with  awful  veneration,  retired,  and  dared  not 
pursue  their  vengeance.  These  customs  were  the 
origin  of  the  Knights-errant,  and  the  Middle  Age 
romances  of  giants,  monsters,  enchanted  castles, 
etc. 

As  the  walls  of  the  castles  ran  winding  about 
them,  they  were  frequently  called  by  names  that 
signified  serpents  or  dragons.  In  these  were  com- 
monly secured  the  women  and  young  maids  of 
distinction,  who  were  seldom  safe  elsewhere  when 


(1 86) 


A   SHRINE   BY  THE   WAYSIDE   IN'   THE   MIDDLE   AGES. 


THE   BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


187 


so  many  bold  warriors  were  rambling  up  and  down 
in  search  of  adventures.  It  was  this  custom 
which  gave  occasion  to  ancient  romancers,  who 
knew  not  how  to  describe  anything  simple,  to  in- 
vent so  many  fables  concerning  princesses  of 
great  beauty  guarded  by  dragons. 

A  singular  and  barbarous  custom  prevailed 
during  this  period  ;  it  consisted  in  punishment  by 
mutilation.  This  practice  became  so  general  that, 
it  is  asserted  by  reliable  historians,  the  abbots,  in- 
stead of  inflicting  canonical  penalties  on  their 
monks,  required  them  to  cut  off  an  ear,  an  arm  or 
a  leg ;  William  the  Conqueror,  on  several  occa- 
sions, after  suppressing  the  numerous  insurrections 
of  the  English  against  his  authority,  resorted  to 
the  punishment  of  mutilation  for  the  purpose  of 
preventing  similar  disorders  in  the  future.  On 
some  occasions  he  chopped  off  the  right  hands  of 
the  offenders,  on  others  their  right  feet ;  now  and 
then  he  put  out  their  eyes,  and  on  one  occasion  he 
disfigured  a  large  number  of  prisoners  by  cutting 
off  their  noses. 

Veil}',  in  his  "  Histor}-  of  France,"  describes 
two  popular  festivals,  called  the  Feast  of  Fools, 
and  the  Feast  of  Asses,  which  gives  us  a  just  idea 
of  the  manner  and  style  of  devotion  that  prevailed 
among  the  common  people  even  as  late  as  the 
thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries.  There  is  also 
a  fine  description  of  one  of  these  festivals  in  Victor 
Hugo's  BeU  Ringer  of  Notre  Dame.  The 
people  of  that  age  regarded  religion  as  an  amuse- 
ment !  It  took  the  place  of  the  theatre,  the  circus, 
and  the  more  ancient  gladiatorial  arena.  The 
Feast  of  Fools  continued  until  the  Reforma- 
tion. The  priests  and  clerks  assembled,  elected 
a  fool's  pope,  an  arch-bishop  or  a  bishop,  and  con- 
ducted them  in  great  pomp  to  the  church,  which 
they  entered,  dancing,  masked,  and  dressed  in  imi- 
tation of  animals,  or  the  apparel  of  women  and 
Merry  Andrews  ;  sung  licentious  songs,  and  con- 
verted the  altar  into  a  bouffet,  where  they  ate  and 
drank  during  the  celebration  of  the  holy  mysteries ; 
played  at  dice ;  burned  their  old  sandals  and 
shoes  instead  of  incense  ;  ran  about,  leaped  from 
seat  to  seat,  assuming  all  the  indecent  and  ludi- 
crous postures  with  which  the  clowns  knew  how 
to  amuse  the  populace. 

The  ' '  Feast  of  Asses  ' '  was  no  less  extrava- 
gant than  the  "Feast  of  Fools."  It  was  cele- 
brated at  Beauvaris.  They  chose  a  young  woman, 
the  handsomest  in  town ;  they  made  her  ride  an 


ass  richly  harnessed,  and  placed  in  her  arms  a 
pretty  infant.  In  this  state,  followed  by  the  bishop 
and  clergy,  she  marched  in  procession  from  the 
cathedral  to  the  church  of  St.  Stephen's  ;  entered 
into  the  sanctuary  ;  placed  herself  near  the  altar, 
and  the  mass  began.  Whatever  the  choir  sang 
was  terminated  by  this  charming  burthen, 
"Hiban!  Hiban."  Their  prose,  half  Latin  and 
half  French,  explained  the  fine  qualities  of  the 
animal.  Ever}-  strophe  finished  with  this  invita- 
tion : 

Hez,  sire  Ane,  ca  ckantez 
Belle  bouche  rechignez, 
Vous  aures  du  foin  assez 
Et  de  l'avoine  a  plantez. 

These  grotesque  festivals  were  also  practised  in 
England,  varying  but  little  from  those  just  de- 
scribed. We  copy  this  account  of  them  from  an 
ancient  writer : 

' '  In  the  feast  of  Asses,  an  ass,  covered  with 
sacerdotal  robes,  was  gravely  conducted  to  the 
choir,  where  service  was  performed  before  him, 
and  a  hymn  chanted  in  as  discordant  a  manner  as 
they  could  contrive  ;  the  office  was  a  medley  of 
all  that  had  been  sung  in  the  course  of  the  year ; 
pails  of  water  were  flung  at  the  head  of  the 
chanters;  the  ass  was  supplied  with  drink  and 
provender  at  every  division  of  the  service ;  and 
the  asinines  were  drinking,  dancing,  and  braying 
for  two  days.  The  hymn  to  the  ass  has  been  pre- 
served ;  each  stanza  ends  with  the  burden  '  Hez  ! 
Sire  Ane,  hez  ! '  '  Huzza  !  Seignior  Ass,  Huzza  ! ' 
On  other  occasions,  they  put  burnt  old  shoes  to 
fume  in  the  censers  ;  ran  about  the  church  leap- 
ing, singing,  and  dancing  obscenely ;  scattering 
ordure  among  the  audience  ;  playing  at  dice  upon 
the  altar !  while  a  boy-bishop,  or  a  pope  of  fools, 
burlesqued  the  divine  sendee.  Sometimes  they 
disguised  themselves  in  the  skins  of  animals,  and 
pretending  to  be  transformed  into  the  animal  they 
represented,  it  became  dangerous,  or  worse,  to 
meet  these  abandoned  fools.  There  was  a  pre- 
centor of  fools,  who  was  shaved  in  public,  during 
which  he  entertained  the  populace  with  all  the 
balderdash  his  genius  could  invent.  We  had  in 
Leicester,  in  1415,  what  was  called  a  glutton  mass; 
during  the  five  days  of  the  festival  of  the  Virgin 
Mary.  The  people  rose  early  to  mass,  during 
which  they  practised  eating  and  drinking  with 
the  most  zealous  velocity,  and,  as  in  France,  drew 


188 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


from  the  comers  of  the  altar  the  rich  puddings 
placed  there. 

So  late  as  1645,  a  pupil  of  Gasseudi,  writing 
to  his  master  what  he  himself  witnessed  at  Aix 
on  the  feast  of  the  Innocence,  says,  ' '  I  have  seen, 
in  some  monasteries  in  this  province  extravagances 
solemnized,  which  the  pagans  would  not  have 
practised.  Neither  the  clergy,  nor  the  guardians, 
indeed,  go  to  the  choir  on  this  da}-,  but  all  is  given 
up  to  the  lay-brethren,  the  cabbage-cutters,  the 
errand-boys,  the  cooks  and  scullions,  the  garden- 
ers ;  in  a  word,  all  the  menials  fill  their  places  in 
the  church,  and  insist  that  they  perform  the  offices 
proper  for  the  day. — They  dress  themselves  with 
all  the  sacerdotal  ornaments,  but  torn  to  rags,  or 
wear  them  inside  out  ;  they  hold  in  their  hands 
the  books  reversed  or  sideways,  which  the}-  pre- 
tend to  read  with  large  spectacles  without  glasses, 
and  to  which  they  fix  the  shells  of  scooped 
oranges,  which  render  them  so  hideous,  that  one 
must  have  seen  these  madmen  to  form  a  notion  of 
their  appearance  ;  particularly  while  dangling  the 
censers,  the}'  keep  shaking  them  in  derision,  and 
letting  the  ashes  fly  about  their  heads  and  faces, 
one  against  the  other.  In  this  equipage  they 
neither  sing  hymns,  nor  psalms,  nor  masses;  but 
mumble  a  certain  gibberish  as  shrill  and  squeak- 
ing as  a  herd  of  pigs  whipped  on  to  market." 

These  antics  remind  us  of  the  modem  tricks 
played  at  Mardi  Gras  festivals,  the  latter  being, 
doubtless,  nothing  more  than  a  modernized  or  civ- 
ilized representation  of  the  ancient  follies. 

Strange  contradictions  of  human  nature  !  Dur- 
ing the  very  period  that  these  extravagances  were 
so  freely  indulged,  the  clergy  would  not  suffer 
men  to  play  at  so  simple  a  game  as  chess ;  while 
man}-  other  perfectly  innocent  amusements  were 
also  placed  under  the  ban  of  the  church. 

Chastity,  both  among  men  and  women,  was 
very  highly  regarded  as  a  virtue  of  holiness.  It 
was  no  uncommon  thing  for  men  and  women  to 
enter  into  vows  of  chastity,  and  remain  religiously 
faithful  to  them  during  their  entire  lives.  This 
occurred  in  the  case  of  one  of  the  ancient  queens 
of  England,  and,  although  she  was  happily 
married,  she  remained  faithful  to  her  vow,  and  at 
her  death  the  throne  was  left  without  an  heir. 
Louis  VIII.,  of  France,  made  a  similar  vow,  and, 
falling  dangerously  ill,  his  physicians,  on  consulta- 
tion, decided  that  nothing  could  save  his  life  ex- 
cept the  enjoyment  of  conjugal  pleasures.      With 


this  purpose  in  view,  they  placed  near  the  mon- 
arch, while  he  slept,  a  young  and  beautiful  lady, 
who,  when  he  awoke,  tenderly  and  modestly 
made  known  to  him  the  object  of  her  presence. 
"No!"  answered  Louis,  "I  will  die  rather 
than  save  my  life  by  a  mortal  sin,"  and  in 
conformity  with  this  determination,  he  died. 

Following  the  inroads  of  the  northern  barba- 
rians upon  the  southern  and  more  cultivated 
nations  of  Italy,  France,  and  Spain,  flaxen  hair 
became  very  popular.  In  the  times  of  chivalry 
the  minstrels  dwell  with  great  complacency  on 
the  fair  heads  and  delicate  complexion  of  their 
damsels.  This  taste  was  continued  for  a  long 
time,  and  to  render  the  hair  light  was  a  great 
object  of  education.  Even  when  wigs  first  came 
into  fashion  they  were  all  flaxen.  Such  was  the 
color  of  the  hair  of  the  Gauls  and  their  German 
conquerors.  It  required  some  centuries  to  reconcile 
their  eyes  to  the  swarthy  beauties  of  their  Spanish 
and  Italian  neighbors. 

It  was  a  common  custom,  in  those  peculiar 
times,  to  "mortify  the  flesh"  for  the  good  of  the 
soul.  Many  different  expedients  were  resorted  to 
for  the  accomplishment  of  this  purpose.  Histor- 
ians assert  that  Louis  NIL,  of  France,  hastened 
his  death  by  sudden  and  radical  changes  in  his 
habits  and  diet,  made  as  penances  for  his  sins. 

When  he  was  accustomed  to  dine  at  eight 
o'clock,  he  dined  at  twelve;  and  when  he  was 
used  to  retire  to  bed  at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
he  frequently  sat  up  as  late  as  midnight. 

Houssaye  gives  the  following  authentic  notice 
drawn  from  the  the  registers  of  the  court,  which 
presents  a  curious  account  of  domestic  life  in  the 
fifteenth  century.  Of  the  dauphin  Louis,  son  of 
Charles  VI.,  who  died  at  the  age  of  twenty,  we 
are  told :  ' '  that  he  knew  the  Latin  and  French 
languages  ;  that  he  had  many  musicians  in  his 
chapel ;  passed  the  night  in  vigils  ;  dined  at  three 
in  the  afternoon,  supped  at  midnight,  went  to  bed 
at  the  break  of  day,  and  thus  was  acerte?ie  (that  is 
threatened  )  with  a  short  life. ' '  Froissart  men- 
tions waiting  upon  the  Duke  of  Lancaster  at  five 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when  he  had  supped. 

The  use  of  coaches  was  introduced  into  Eng- 
land by  Fitzalan,  Earl  of  Arundel,  in  1580,  and  at 
first  were  only  drawn  by  a  pair  of  horses.  The 
favorite  Buckingham,  about  1619,  began  to  have 
them  drawn  by  six  horses,  and  Wilson,  in  his  life 
of  James  I.,  tells  us  this   "was  wondered  at  as  a 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY 


189 


novelty,  and  imputed  to  him  as  a  mastering 
pride."  The  same  arbiter elegantiarum  introduced 
sedan  chairs.  In  France,  Catharine  of  Medicis 
was  the  first  who  used  a  coach,  which  had  leather 
doors,  and  curtains  instead  of 
glass  windows.  If  the  carriage 
of  Henry  IV.  had  had  glass 
windows,  this  circumstance 
might  have  saved  his  life.  Car- 
riages were  so  rare  in  the  reign 
of  this  monarch,  that  in  a  let- 
ter to  his  minister  Sully,  he 
notices  that  having  taken  medi- 
cine that  day,  though  he  had 
intended  to  call  on  him,  he 
was  prevented,  because  the 
queen  had  gone  out  with  the 
carriage.  Even  as  late  as  in 
the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  the 
couriers  rode  horseback  to  their 
dinner  parties,  and  wore  their 
light  boots  and  spurs.  Count 
Hamilton  describes  his  boots 
of  white  Spanish  leather  with 
gold  spurs. 


him  from  ever  doing  a  hard-hearted  thing  ;  and, 
therefore,  he  was  so  apt  to  grant  pardon  to  male- 
factors, that  the  judges  of  the  land  represented  to 
him  the  damage  and  insecurity  to  the  public  that 


PERSONAL    CHARACTER    OF 
CHARLES   THE   FIRST. 

CHE  following  description  of 
the  personal  character  of 
Charles  I.  occurs  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  revolution  in  Eng- 
land, written  by  Lord  Claren- 
don. As  he  was  an  ardent  roy- 
alist, his  opinion  of  the  unfortu- 
nate king  is  of  course  colored 
by  his  personal  feelings,  but 
aside  from  this  his  account  is 
generally  conceded  to  be  fair 
and  just : 

To  speak  first  of  his  private 
qualifications  as  a  man,  before 
the  mention  of  his  princely  and 
royal  virtues  ;  he  was,  if  ever 
any,  the  most  worthy  of  the 
title  of  an  honest  man  ;  so  great  "^B?^2ffj 

a  lover  of  justice,  that  no  temp-  

tatiou  could  dispose  him  to  a 
wrongful  action,  except    it  was    so  disguised  to 
him  that  he  believed  it  to  be  just.     He  had  a  ten- 
derness and  compassion  of  nature  which  restrained 


CHARLES  I. — By  Van  Dyck. 

flowed  from  such  his  indulgence.  And  then  he 
restrained  himself  from  pardoning  either  murders 
or  highway  robberies,  and  quickly  discerned  the 


190    THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


fruits  of  his  severity  by  a  wonderful  reformation 
of  those  enormities.  He  was  very  punctual  and 
regular  in  his  devotions  ;  he  was  never  known  to 
enter  upon  his  recreations  or  sports,  though  never 
so  early  in  the  morning,  before  he  had  been  at 
public  prayers ;  so  that  on  hunting  days,  his 
chaplains  were  bound  to  a  very  earl}-  attendance. 
He  was  likewise  very  strict  in  observing  the  hours 
of  his  private  cabinet  devotions,  and  was  so  severe 
an  exacter  of  gravity  and  reverence  in  all  mention 
of  religion,  that  he  could  never  endure  any  light 
or  profane  word,  with  what  sharpness  of  wit  so- 
ever it  was  covered  ;  and  though  he  was  well 
pleased  and  delighted  with  reading  verses  made 
upon  any  occasion,  no  man  durst  bring  before  him 
anything  that  was  profane  or  unclean.  That  kind 
of  wit  had  never  any  countenance  then.  He  was 
so  great  an  example  of  conjugal  affection,  that 
the}-  who  did  not  imitate  him  in  that  particular, 
durst  not  brag  of  their  liberty  ;  and  he  did  not 
only  permit,  but  direct  his  bishops  to  prosecute 
those  scandalous  vices,  in  the  ecclesiastical  courts, 
against  persons  of  eminence,  and  near  relation  to 
his  sen-ice. 

His  kingly  virtues  had  some  mixture  and  alloy 
that  hindered  them  from  shining  in  full  lustre, 
and  from  producing  those  fruits  they  should  have 
been  attended  with.  He  was  not  in  his  nature 
very  bountiful,  though  he  gave  very  much.  This 
appeared  more  after  the  Duke  of  Buckingham's 
death,  after  which  those  showers  fell  very  rarely; 
and  he  paused  too  long  in  giving,  which  made 
those  to  whom  he  gave  less  sensible  of  the  benefit. 
He  kept  state  to  the  full,  which  made  his  court 
very  orderly,  no  man  presuming  to  be  seen  in  a 
place  where  he  had  no  pretence  to  be.  He  saw 
and  observed  men  long  before  he  received  them 
about  his  person  ;  and  did  not  love  strangers,  nor 
vers-  confident  men.  He  was  a  patient  hearer  of 
causes,  which  he  frequently  accustomed  himself 
to  at  the  council  board,  and  judged  very  well,  and 
was  dexterous  in  the  mediating  part  ;  so  that  he 
often  put  an  end  to  causes  by  persuasion,  which 
the  stubbornness  of  men's  humors  made  dilatory 
in  courts  of  justice. 

He  was  very  fearless  in  his  person  ;  but  in  his 
riper  years  not  very  enterprising.  He  had  an  ex- 
cellent understanding,  but  was  not  confident 
enough  of  it ;  which  made  him  oftentimes  change 
his  own  opinion  for  a  worse,  and  follow  the  advice 
of  men  that  did  not  judge  as  well  as  himself. 


This  made  him  more  irresolute  than  the  conjunc- 
ture of  his  affairs  would  admit ;  if  he  had  been 
of  a  rougher  and  more  imperious  nature,  he  would 
have  found  more  respect  and  duty.  And  his  not 
applying  some  severe  cures  to  approaching  evils 
proceeded  from  the  lenity  of  his  nature,  and  the 
tenderness  of  his  conscience,  which,  in  all  cases 
of  blood,  made  him  choose  the  softer  way,  and 
not  hearken  to  severe  counsels,  how  reasonably 
soever  urged.  This  only  restrained  him  from 
pursuing  his  advantage  in  the  first  Scottish  expe- 
dition, when,  humanly  speaking,  he  might  have 
reduced  that  nation  to  the  most  entire  obedience 
that  could  have  been  wished.  But  no  man  can 
say  he  had  then  many  who  advised  him  to  it,  but 
the  contrary,  by  a  wonderful  indisposition  all  his 
council  had  to  the  war  or  any  other  fatigue.  He 
was  always  a  great  lover  of  the  Scottish  nation, 
having  not  only  been  born  there,  but  educated  by 
that  people,  and  besieged  by  them  always,  having 
few  English  about  him  till  he  was  king  ;  and  the 
major  number  of  his  sen-ants  being  still  with 
that  nation,  who  he  thought  could  never  fail  him. 
And  among  these,  no  man  had  such  an  ascendant 
over  him,  by  the  humblest  insinuations,  as  Duke 
Hamilton  had. 

As  he  excelled  in  all  other  virtues,  so  in  tem- 
perance he  was  so  strict,  that  he  abhorred  all 
debauchery  to  that  degree,  that,  at  a  great  festi- 
val solemnity,  where  he  once  was,  when  very 
many  of  the  nobility  of  the  English  and  Scots 
were  entertained,  being  told  by  one  who  withdrew 
from  thence  what  vast  draughts  of  wine  they 
drank,  and  that  there  was  one  earl  who  had 
drunk  most  of  the  rest  down,  and  was  not  him- 
self moved  or  altered,  the  king  said  that  he 
desen-ed  to  be  hanged  ;  and  the  earl  coming 
shortly  after  into  the  room  where  his  majesty 
was,  in  some  gaiety,  to  show  how  unhurt  he  was 
from  that  battle,  the  king  sent  one  to  bid  him 
withdraw  from  his  majesty's  presence ;  nor  did 
he  in  some  days  after  appear  before  him. 

So  many  miraculous  circumstances  contributed 
to  his  ruin,  that  men  might  well  think  that 
heaven  and  earth  conspired  it.  Though  he  was, 
from  the  first  declension  of  his  power,  so  much 
betrayed  by  his  own  sen-ants,  that  there  were 
very  few  who  remained  faithful  to  him,  yet  that 
treachery  proceeded  not  always  from  any  treason- 
able purpose  to  do  him  any  harm,  but  from  par- 
ticular   and   personal   animosities   against    other 


P 
> 


H 
K 

m 

xn 

H 

a 
a 


rigi) 


192 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


men.  And  afterwards,  the  terror  all  men  were 
under  of  the  parliament,  and  the  guilty  were 
conscious  of  themselves,  made  them  watch  all 
opportunities  to  make  themselves  gracious  to 
those  who  could  do  them  good  ;  and  so  they  be- 


after  all  this,  when  a  man  might  reasonably  be- 
lieve that  less  than  universal  defection  of  three 
nations  could  have  reduced  a  great  king  to  so 
ugly  a  fate,  it  is  most  certain  that,  in  that  very 
hour,  when  he  was  thus  wickedly  murdered  in 
the  light  of  the  sun,  he  had 
as  great  a  share  in  the 
hearts  and  affections  of  his 
subjects  in  general,  was  as 
much  beloved,  esteemed, 
and  longed  for  by  the  peo- 
ple in  general  of  the  three 
nations,  as  any  of  his  prede- 
cessors had  ever  been.  To 
conclude,  he  was  the  worthi- 
est gentleman,  the  best  mas- 
ter, the  best  friend,  the  best 
husband,  the  best  father, 
and  the  best  Christian  that 
the  age  in  which  he  lived 
produced.  And  if  he  were 
not  the  greatest  king,  if  he 
were  without  some  parts 
and  qualities  which  have 
made  some  kings  great  and 
happy,  no  other  prince  was 
ever  unhappy  who  was  pos- 
sessed of  half  his  virtues 
and  endowments,  and  so 
much  without  any  kind  of 
vice. 


CHARLES    II 


came  spies  upon  their  master,  and  from  one  piece 
of  knavery  were  hardened  and  confirmed  to  take 
another,  till  at  last  they  had  no  hope  of  preserva- 
tion  but  by  destruction   of  their  master.      And 


ESCAPE  OF  CHARLES  II. 
AFTER  THE  DEFEAT  AT 
WORCESTER. 

THE  strange  and  roman- 
tic   adventures  of 
King  Charles  II.,  after  his 
defeat  at  Worcester,   were 
related  by  himself  to  Lord 
Clarendon,    the     historian, 
who  recorded  them   in  the 
king' s  own  language.  They 
bear  a  strong   resemblance 
to   many   similar   incidents 
that    occurred    during    the 
late  war  between  our  North- 
ern and  Southern  States  : 
Though  the  king  could  not  get  a  body  of  horse 
to  fight,  he  could  have  too  many  to  fly  with  him  ; 
and  he  had  not  been  many  hours  from  Worcester, 
when  he  found  about  him  near,  if  not  above,  four 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY, 


j  93 


thousand  of  his  horse.  There  was  David  Lesley 
with  all  his  own  equipage,  as  if  he  had  not  fled 
upon  the  sudden  ;  so  that  good  order,  and  regu- 
larity, and  obedience,  might  yet  have  made  a 
retreat  even  into  Scotland  itself.  But  there  was 
paleness  in  every  man's  looks,  and  jealousy  and 
confusion  in  their  faces ;  and  scarce  anything 
could  worse  befall  the  king  than  a  return  into 
Scotland,  which  yet  he  could  not  reasouably 
promise  to  himself  in  that  company.  But  when 
the  night  covered  them,  he  found  means  to  with- 
draw himself  with 
one  or  two  of  his 
own  servants,  whom 
he  likewise  d  i  s  - 
charged  when  it  be- 
gan to  be  light  ; 
and  after  he  had 
made  them  cut  off 
his  hair,  he  betook 
himself  alone  into 
an  adjacent  wood, 
and  relied  o  n  1  y 
upon  Him  for  his 
preservation  w  h  o 
alone  could,  and 
did  miraculously 
deliver  him. 

When  it  was 
morning,  and  the 
troops  which  had 
marched  all  night, 
and  who  knew  that 
when  it  began  to 
be  dark  the  king 
was  with  them, 

found  now  that  he  was  not  there,  they  cared  less 
for  each  other's  company  ;  and  most  of  them  who 
were  English  separated  themselves,  and  went  into 
other  roads  ;  and  wherever  twenty  horse  appeared 
of  the  country,  which  was  now  awake,  and  upon 
their  guard  to  stop  and  arrest  the  runaways,  the 
whole  body  of  the  Scottish  horse  would  fly,  and 
run  several  ways  ;  and  twenty  of  them  would  give 
themselves  prisoners  to  two  country  fellows  ;  how- 
ever, David  Lesley  reached  Yorkshire  with  above 
fifteen  hundred  horse  in  a  body.  But  the  jeal- 
ousies increased  every  day  :  and  those  of  his  own 
country  were  so  unsatisfied  with  his  whole  con- 
duct and  behaviour,  that  they  did,  that  is,  many 
of  them,  believe  that  he  was  corrupted  by  Crom- 
i.3 


well ;  and  the  rest,  who  did  not  think  so,  believed 
him  not  to  understand  his  profession,  in  which  he 
had  been  bred  from  his  cradle.  When  he  was  in 
his  flight,  considering  one  morning  with  the  prin- 
cipal persons  which  way  they  should  take,  some 
proposed  this  and  others  that  way,  Sir  William 
Armorer  asked  him,  "which  way  he  thought 
best?"  which,  when  he  had  named,  the  other 
said,  "he  would  then  go  the  other  ;  for,  he  swore, 
he  had  betrayed  the  king  and  the  army  all  the 
time;"   and  so  left  him.         *         *         * 


FLIGHT   OF   THE   ROYALISTS    FROM   THK   BATTLE   OF    WORCESTER. 

It  is  great  pity  that  there  was  never  a  journal 
made  of  that  miraculous  deliverance,  in  which 
there  might  be  seen  so  many  visible  impressions 
of  the  immediate  hand  of  God.  When  the  dark- 
ness of  the  night  was  over,  after  the  king  had 
cast  himself  into  that  wood,  he  discerned  another 
man,  who  had  gotten  upon  an  oak  in  the  same 
wood,  near  the  place  where  the  king  had  rested 
himself,  and  had  slept  soundly.  The  man  upon 
the  tree  had  first  seen  the  king,  and  knew  him, 
and  came  down  to  him,  and  was  known  to  the 
king,  being  a  gentleman  of  the  neighbour  count}' 
of  Staffordshire,  who  had  served  his  late  majesty 
during  the  war,  and  had  now  been  one  of  the  few 
who  resorted  to  the  king  after  his  coming  to  Wor- 


194 


THE    WONDERFUL,  THE    CURIOUS,  AND    THE 


cester.  His  name  was  Careless,  who  had  had  a 
command  of  foot,  about  the  degree  of  a  captain, 
under  the  Lord  Loughborough.  He  persuaded 
the  king,  since  it  could  not  be  safe  for  him  to  go 
out  of  the  wood,  and  that,  as  soon  as  it  should  be 
fully  light,  the  wood  itself  would  probably  be 
visited  by  those  of  the  country,  who  would  be 
searching  to  find  those  whom  they  might  make 
prisoners,  that  he  would  get  up  into  that  tree 
where  he  had  been,  where  the  boughs  were  so 
thick  with  leaves  that  a  man  would  not  be  dis- 


highway  near  one  side  of  it,  where  the  king  had 
entered  into  it,  yet  it  was  large,  and  all  other 
sides  of  it  opened  amongst  inclosures,  and  Care- 
less was  not  unacquainted  with  the  neighbour  vil- 
lages ;  and  it  was  part  of  the  king's  good  fortune 
that  this  gentleman,  by  being  a  Roman  Catholic, 
was  acquainted  with  those  of  that  profession  of 
all  degrees,  who  had  the  best  opportunities  of  con- 
cealing him  :  for  it  must  never  be  denied  that 
some  of  that  religion  had  a  very  great  share  in 
his  majesty's  preservation. 


THE    WOODS    IX    WHICH    KING   CHARLES   LAV    CON'CEALED. 


covered  there  without  a  narrower  inquiry  than 
people  usually  make  in  places  which  they  do  not 
suspect.  The  king  thought  it  good  counsel,  and, 
with  the  other's  help,  climbed  into  the  tree,  and 
then  helped  his  companion  to  ascend  after- him, 
where  they  sat  all  that  day,  and  securely  saw 
many  who  came  purposely  into  the  wood  to  look 
after  them,  and  heard  all  their  discourse,  how 
they  would  use  the  king  himself  if  they  could 
take  him.  This  wood  was  either  in  or  upon  the 
borders  of  Staffordshire  ;  and  though  there  was  a 


The  day  being  spent  in  the  tree,  it  was  not  in 
the  king's  power  to  forget  that  he  had  lived  two 
days  with  eating  very  little,  and  two  nights  with 
as  little  sleep  ;  so  that,  when  the  night  came,  he 
was  willing  to  make  some  provision  for  both  ;  and 
he  resolved,  with  the  advice  and  assistance  of  his 
companion,  to  leave  his  blessed  tree  ;  and,  when 
the  night  was  dark,  they  walked  through  the  wood 
into  those  inclosures  which  were  farthest  from  any 
highway,  and  making  a  shift  to  get  over  hedges 
and  ditches,  after  walking   at  least  eight  or  nine 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


195 


miles,  which   were  the  more  grievous  to  the  king 
by  the  weight  of  his  boots  (for  he  could  not  put 
them   off  when  he  cut   off  his  hair,  for  want  of 
shoes),  before   morning  they  came  to  a  poor  cot- 
tage, the  owner  whereof,  being  a  Roman  Catholic, 
was  known  to  Careless.     He  was  called  up,  and  as 
soon  as  he  knew  one  of  them,  he  easily  concluded  in 
what  condition  they  both  were,  and  presently  carried 
them  into  a  little  barn  full  of  ha)-,  which  was  a 
better  lodging  than  he  had  for  himself.     But  when 
the}-  were  there,  and  had  conferred  with  their  host 
of  the  news  and  temper  of  the  country,    it  was 
agreed  that  the  danger  would  be  the  greater  if  they 
stayed    together ;    and,    therefore,    that   Careless 
should  presently  be  gone,  and  should,  within  two 
days,  send  an  honest  man  to  the  king,  to  guide 
him  to  some  other  place  of  security ;  and  in  the 
mean  time  his  majesty  should  stay  upon  the  hay 
rnow.     The  poor  man  had  nothing  for  him  to  eat, 
but  promised  him  good  butter-milk  ;  and  so  he  was 
once  more  left  alone,  his  companion,  how  weary- 
soever,  departing  from  him  before  day,  the  poor 
man  of  the  house  knowing  no  more  than  that  he 
was  a  friend  of  the  captain's,  and  one  of  those  who 
had  escaped  from  Worcester.     The  king  slept  very 
well  in  his  lodging,  till  the  time  that  his    host 
brought  him  a  piece  of  bread,  and  a  great  pot  of 
butter-milk,  which  he  thought  the  best  food  he  had 
ever  eaten.    The  poor  man  spoke  very  intelligently 
to   him  of  the   country,    and  of  the   people  who 
were  well  or  ill  affected  to  the  king,  and  of  the 
great  fear  and  terror  that  possessed  the  hearts  of 
those  who  were  best  affected.    He  told  him,  "that 
he   himself  lived   by  his  daily  labour,   and  that 
what  he  had  brought  him  was  the  fare  he  and  his 
wife  had  ;  and  that  he  feared,  if  he  should  endea- 
vour to  procure  better,  it  might   draw   suspicion 
upon  him,  and  people  might  be  apt  to  think  he 
had  somebody  with  him  that  was  not  of  his  own 
family.     However,  if  he  would  have  him  get  some 
meat,  he  would  do  it ;  but  if  he  could  bear  this 
hard  diet,  he  should  have  enough  of  the  milk, 
and  some  of  the  butter   that  was  made  with  it." 
The  king  was  satisfied  with  his  reason,  and  would 
not  run  the  hazard  for  a  change  of  diet ;  desired 
only  the  man    that  he  might  have  his  company 
as  often  and   as  much   as  he  could  give  it  him  ; 
there   being    the   same   reason    against  the  poor 
man's  discontinuing  his  labour,  as  the  alteration  of 
his  fare. 

After   he    had   rested  upon  this  hay-mow  and 


fed  upon  this  diet  two  days  and  two  nights,  in  the 
evening  before  the  third  night,  another  fellow,  a 
little  above  the  condition  of  his  host,  came  to  the 
house,  sent  from  Careless,  to  conduct  the  king  to 
another  house,  more  out  of  any  road  near  which 
any  part  of  the  army  was  like  to  march.     It  was 
above  twelve  miles  that  he  was  to  go,  and  was  to 
use  the  same  caution  he  had  done  the  first  night, 
not  to  go  in  any  common  road,  which  his  guide  knew 
well  how  to  avoid.     Here  he  new  dressed  himself, 
changing   clothes   with   his  landlord  ;   he    had  a 
great  mind  to  have  kept  his  own  shirt ;  but  he  con- 
sidered, that  men  are  not  sooner  discovered  by  any 
mark  in  disguises  than  by  having  fine  linen  in  ill 
clothes  ;  and  so  he  parted  with  his  shirt  too,  and 
took  the  same  his  poor  host  had  then  on.     Though 
he  had  foreseen  that  he  must  leave  his  boots,  and  his 
landlord  had  taken  the  best  care  he  could  to  provide 
an  old  pair  of  shoes,  yet  they  were  not  easy  to 
him  when  he  first  put  them  on,  and,  in  a  short 
time  after,   grew  very  grievous  to  him.     In  this 
equipage  he  set  out  from  his  first  lodging  in  the 
beginning  of  the  night,  under  the  conduct  of  this 
guide,  who  guided  him  the  nearest  way,  crossing 
over  hedges  and  ditches,  that  they  might  be  in 
least  danger  of  meeting  passengers.     This  was  so 
grievous  a  march,  and  he  was  so  tired,  that  he 
was  even  read}-   to  despair,  and  to  prefer  being 
taken  and  suffered  to  rest,  before  purchasing  his 
safety  at  that  price.     His  shoes  had,  after  a  few 
miles,  hurt  him  so  much,  that  he  had  thrown  them 
away,  and  walked  the  rest  of  the  way  in  his  ill 
stockings,  which  were  quickly  worn  out ;  and  his 
feet,  with  the  thorns  in  getting  over  hedges,  and 
with  the  stones  in  other  places,  were  so  hurt  and 
wounded,  that  he  man}-  times  cast  himself  upon 
the  ground,  with  a  desperate  and  obstinate  resolu- 
tion to  rest  there  till  the  morning,  that  he  might 
shift  with  less  torment,  what  hazard  soever  he 
run.     But  his  stout  guide  still  prevailed  with  him 
to  make   a  new   attempt,    sometimes    promising 
that  the  way  should  be  better,  and  sometimes  as- 
suring him  that  he  had  but  little  farther  to  go  ; 
and  in  this   distress  and    perplexity,  before   the 
morning   they  arrived   at    the    house    designed  ; 
which,  though  it  was  better  than  that  which   he 
had  left,  his  lodging  was  still  in  the  barn,   upon 
straw  instead  of  hay,  a  place  being  made  as  easy 
in  it  as  the  expectation  of  a  guest  could  dispose  it. 
Here  he  had  such  meat  and  porridge  as  such  peo- 
ple use  to  have,  with  which,  but  especially  with 


106 


THE  WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


the  butter  and  the  cheese,  he  thought  himself  observed  that  he  was  never  carried  to  any  gentle- 
well  feasted ;  and  took  the  best  care  he  could  to  man's  house,  though  that  country  was  full  of 
be  supplied  with  other,  little  better,  shoes  and  them,  but  only  to  poor  houses  of  poor  men,  which 
stockings ;  and  after  his  feet  were  enough  recov-  only  yielded  him  rest  with  very  unpleasant  suste- 
ered  that  he  could  go,  he  was  conducted  from  nance  ;  whether  there  was  more  danger  in  those 
thence  to  another  poor  house,  within  such  a  dis-  better  houses,  in  regard  of  the  resort  and  the 
tance  as  put  him  not  to  much  trouble  ;  for  having  many  servants,   or  whether  the  owners  of  great 


CHARLES  II.    TRAVELLING    IN    DISGUISE. 


not  yet  in  his  thought  which  way  or  by  what 
means  to  make  his  escape,  all  that  was  designed 
was  only,  by  shifting  from  one  house  to  another, 
to  avoid  discover,-.  And  being  now  in  that  quar- 
ter which  was  more  inhabited  by  the  Roman 
Catholics  than  most  other  parts  in  England,  he 
was  led  from  one  to  another  of  that  persuasion, 
and  concealed  with  great  fidelitv.     But  he  then 


estates  were  the  owners  likewise  of  more  fears  and 
apprehensions. 

Within  a  few  days,  a  very  honest  and  discreet 
person,  one  Mr.  Hudleston,  a  Benedictine  monk, 
who  attended  the  sen-ice  of  the  Roman  Catholics 
in  these  parts,  came  to  him,  sent  by  Careless,  and 
was  a  very  great  assistance  and  comfort  to  him. 
And  when  the  places  to  which  he  carried  him 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


197 


were  at  too  great  a  distance  to  walk,  he  provided 
him  a  horse,  and  more  proper  habit  than  the  rags 
he  wore.  This  man  told  him,  "that  the  Lord 
Wilmot  la}T  concealed  likewise  in  a  friend's  house 
of  his,  which  his  majesty  was  very  glad  of,  and 
wished  him  to  contrive  some  means  how  they 
might  speak  together,"  which  the  other  easily  did, 
and,  within  a  night  or  two,  brought  them  into  one 
place.  Wilmot  told  the  king  "that  he  had  by 
very  good  fortune  fallen  into  the  house  of  an  hon- 
est gentleman,  one  Mr.  Lane,  a  person  of  an  excel- 
lent reputation  for  his  fidelity  to  the  king,  but  of 
so  universal  and  general  a  good  name,  that,  though 
he  had  a  son  who  had  been  a  colonel  in  the  king's 
service  during  the  late  war,  and  was  then  upon 
his  way  with  men  to  Worcester,  the  very  day  of 
the  defeat,  men  of  all  affections  in  the  country, 
and  of  all  opinions,  paid  the  old  man  a  very  great 
respect ;  that  he  had  been  very  civilly  treated 
there ;  and  that  the  old  gentleman  had  used 
some  diligence  to  find  out  where  the  king  was, 
that  he  might  get  him  to  his  house,  where,  he 
was  sure,  he  could  conceal  him  till  he  might  con- 
trive a  full  deliverance."  He  told  him,  "he  had 
withdrawn  from  that  house,  in  hope  that  he 
might,  in  some  other  place,  discover  where  his 
majesty  was  ;  and  having  now  happily  found  him, 
advised  him  to  repair  to  that  house,  which  stood 
not  near  an}-  other. ' ' 

The  king  inquired  of  the  monk  of  the  reputa- 
tion of  this  gentleman,  who  told  him,  "that  he 
had  a  fair  estate,  was  exceedingly  beloved,  and 
the  eldest  justice  of  peace  of  that  county  of  Staf- 
ford ;  and  though  he  was  a  very  zealous  Pro- 
testant, yet  he  lived  with  so  much  civility  and 
candor  towards  the  Catholics,  that  they  would  all 
trust  him  as  much  as  they  would  do  an}'  of  their 
own  profession  ;  and  that  he  could  not  think  of 
any  place  of  so  good  repose  and  security  for  his 
majesty's  repair  to."  The  king  liked  the  proposi- 
tion, yet  thought  not  fit  to  surprise  the  gentleman, 
but  sent  Wilmot  thither  again,  to  assure  himself 
that  he  might  be  received  there,  and  was  willing 
that  he  should  know  what  guest  he  received  ; 
which  hitherto  was  so  much  concealed,  that  none 
of  the  houses  where  he  had  yet  been,  knew  or 
seemed  to  suspect  more  than  that  he  was  one  of 
the  king's  party  that  fled .  from  Worcester.  The 
monk  carried  him  to  a  house  at  a  reasonable  dis- 
tance, where  he  was  to  expect  an  account  from 
the  Lord  Wilmot,  who  returned  very  punctually, 


with  as  much  assurance  of  welcome  as  he  could 
wish.  And  so  the}'  two  went  together  to  Mr. 
Lane's  house,  where  the  king  found  he  was  wel- 
come, and  conveniently  accommodated  in  such 
places  as  in  a  large  house  had  been  provided  to 
conceal  the  persons  of  maliguants,  or  to  preserve 
goods  of  value  from  being  plundered.  Here  he 
lodged  and  ate  very  well,  and  began  to  hope  that 
he  was  in  present  safety.  Wilmot  returned  under 
the  care  of  the  monk,  and  expected  summons 
when  any  farther  motion  should  be  thought  to  be 
necessary. 

In  this  station  the  king  remained  in  quiet  and 
blessed  security  many  days,  receiving  every  day 
information  of  the  general  consternation  the  king- 
dom was  in,  out  of  the  apprehension  that  his  per- 
son might  fall  into  the  hands  of  his  enemies,  and 
of  the  great  diligence  they  used  to  inquire  for  him. 
He  saw  the  proclamation  that  was  issued  out  and 
printed,  in  which  a  thousand  pounds  were  prom- 
ised to  any  man  who  would  deliver  and  discover 
the  person  of  Charles  Stuart,  and  the  penalty  of 
high  treason  declared  against  those  who  presumed 
to  harbor  or  conceal  him,  by  which  he  saw  how 
much  he  was  beholden  to  all  those  who  were  faith- 
ful to  him.  It  was  now  time  to  consider  how  he 
might  get  near  the  sea,  from  whence  he  might  find 
some  means  to  transport  himself ;  and  he  was  now 
near  the  middle  of  the  kingdom,  saving  that  it 
was  a  little  more  northward,  where  he  was  utterly 
unacquainted  with  all  the  ports,  and  with  that 
coast.  In  the  west  he  was  best  acquainted,  and 
that  coast  was  most  proper  to  transport  him  into 
France,  to  which  he  was  inclined.  Upon  this 
matter  he  communicated  with  those  of  this  family 
to  whom  he  was  known,  that  is,  with  the  old 
gentleman  the  father,  a  very  grave  and  venerable 
person  ;  the  colonel,  his  eldest  son,  a  very  plain 
man  in  his  discourse  and  behaviour,  but  of  a  fear- 
less courage,  and  an  integrity  superior  to  any 
temptation  ;  and  a  daughter  of  the  house,  of  a 
very  good  wit  and  discretion,  and  very  fit  to  bear 
any  part  in  such  a  trust.  It  was  a  benefit,  as  well 
as  an  inconvenience,  in  those  unhappy  times, 
that  the  affections  of  all  men  were  almost  as  well 
known  as  their  faces,  by  the  discovery  they  had 
made  of  themselves  in  those  sad  seasons  in  many 
trials  and  persecutions  ;  so  that  men  knew  not 
only  the  minds  of  their  next  neighbours,  and  those 
who  inhabited  near  them,  but,  upon  conference 
with  their  friends,  could  choose  fit  houses,  at  any 


19S 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


distance,  to  repose  themselves  in  security,  from 
one  end  of  the  kingdom  to  another,  without  trust- 
ing the  hospitality  of  a  common  inn  ;  and  men 
were  very  rarely  deceived  in  their  confidence  upon 
such  occasions  ;  but  the  persons  with  whom  they 
were  at  any  time,  could  conduct  them  to  another 
house  of  the  same  affection. 

Mr.  Lane  had  a  niece,  or  very  near  kinswoman, 
who  was  married  to  a  gentleman,  one  Mr.  Norton, 
a  person  of  eight  or  nine  hundred  pounds  per-  an- 
num, who  lived  within  four  or  five  miles  of  Bristol, 
which  was  at  least  four  or  five  days'  journey  from 
the  place  where  the  king  then  was,  but  a  place 
most  to  be  wished  for  the  king  to  be  in,  because 
he  did  not  only  know  all  that  country  very  well, 
but  knew  many  persons  also  to  whom,  in  an  ex- 
traordinary case,  he  durst  make  himself  known. 
It  was  hereupon  resolved  that  Mrs.  Lane  should 
visit  this  cousin,  who  was  known  to  be  of  good 
affections,  and  that  she  should  ride  behind  the 
king,  who  was  fitted  with  clothes  and  boots  for 
such  a  service  ;  and  that  a  servant  of  her  father's, 
in  liven-,  should  wait  upon  her.  A  good  house 
was  easily  pitched  upon  for  the  first  night's  lodg- 
ing, where  Wilmot  had  notice  given  him  to  meet ; 
and  in  this  equipage  the  king  began  his  journey, 
the  colonel  keeping  him  company  at  a  distance, 
with  a  hawk  upon  his  fist,  and  two  or  three 
spaniels,  which,  where  there  were  any  fields  at 
hand,  warranted  him  to  ride  out  of  the  way,  keep- 
ing his  company  still  in  his  eye,  and  not  seeming 
to  be  of  it.  In  this  manner  they  came  to  their 
first  night's  lodging  ;  and  they  need  not  now  con- 
trive to  come  to  their  journey's  end  about  the 
close  of  the  evening,  for  it  was  in  the  month  of 
October  far  advanced,  that  the  long  journeys  the}' 
made  could  not  be  despatched  sooner.  Here  the 
Lord  Wilmot  found  them,  and  their  journeys 
being  then  adjusted,  he  was  instructed  where  he 
should  be  every  night  ;  so  they  were  seldom  seen 
together  in  the  journey,  and  rarely  lodged  in  the 
same  house  at  night.  In  this  manner  the  colonel 
hawked  two  or  three  days,  till  he  had  brought 
them  within  less  than  a  day's  journey  of  Mr. 
Norton's  house,  and  then  he  gave  his  hawk  to  the 
Lord  Wilmot,  who  continued  the  journey  in  the 
same  exercise. 

There  was  great  care  taken  when  the}-  came 
to  any  house,  that  the  king  might  be  presently 
carried  into  some  chamber,  Mrs.  Lane  declaring 
"that  he  was  a  neighbour's  son,  whom  his  father 


had  lent  her  to  ride  before  her,  in  hope  that  he 
would  the  sooner  recover  from  a  quartan  ague, 
with  which  he  had  been  miserably  afflicted,  and 
was  not  yet  free. ' '  And  by  this  artifice  she  caused 
a  good  bed  to  be  still  provided  for  him,  and  the 
best  meat  to  be  sent,  which  she  often  carried  her- 
self, to  hinder  others  from  doing  it.  There  was 
no  resting  in  any  place  till  the}-  came  to  Mr.  Nor- 
ton's, nor  anything  extraordinary  that  happened 
in  the  way,  save  that  they  met  many  people  every 
da}-  in  the  way.  who  were  very  well  known  to  the 
king  ;  and  the  day  that  they  went  to  Mr.  Norton's, 
the}-  were  necessarily  to  ride  quite  through  the 
city  of  Bristol — a  place  and  people  the  king  had 
been  so  well  acquainted  with,  that  he  could  not  but 
send  his  eyes  abroad  to  view  the  great  alterations 
which  had  been  made  there,  after  his  departure 
from  thence  ;  and  when  he  rode  near  the  place 
where  the  great  fort  had  stood,  he  could  not  for- 
bear putting  his  horse  out  of  the  way,  and  rode  with 
his  mistress  behind  him  round  about  it. 

They  came  to  Mr.  Norton's  house  sooner  than 
usual,  and  it  being  on  a  holiday,  the}-  saw  many 
people  about  a  bowling-green  that  was  before  the 
door  ;  and  the  first  man  the  king  saw  was  a  chap- 
lain of  his  own,  who  was  allied  to  the  gentleman 
of  the  house,  and  was  sitting  upon  the  rails  to  see 
how  the  bowlers  played.  William,  by  which 
name  the  king  went,  walked  with  his  horse  into 
the  stable,  until  his  mistress  could  provide  for  his 
retreat.  Airs.  Lane  was  very  welcome  to  her 
cousin,  and  was  presently  conducted  to  her  cham- 
ber, where  she  no  sooner  was,  than  she  lamented 
the  condition  of  "a  good  youth  who  came  with 
her,  and  whom  she  had  borrowed  of  his  father  to 
ride  before  her,  who  was  very  sick,  being  newly 
recovered  of  an  ague;"  and  desired  her  cousin 
"  that  a  chamber  might  be  provided  for  him,  and 
a  good  fire  made,  for  that  he  would  go  early  to 
bed,  and  was  not  fit  to  be  below  stairs. ' '  A  pretty 
little  chamber  was  presently  made  ready,  and  a 
fire  prepared,  and  a  boy  sent  into  the  stable  to 
call  William,  and  to  show  him  his  chamber  ;  who 
was  very  glad  to  be  there,  freed  from  so  much 
company  as  was  below.  Mrs.  Lane  was  put  to 
find  some  excuse  for  making  a  visit  at  that  time 
of  the  year,  and  so  many  days'  journey  from  her 
father,  and  where  she  had  never  been  before, 
though  the  mistress  of  the  house  and  she  had 
been  bred  together,  and  friends  as  well  as  kin- 
dred.    She  pretended  "  that  she  was,  after  a  little 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


19:> 


rest,  to  go  iuto  Dorsetshire  to  another  friend." 
When  it  was  supper-time,  there  being  broth 
brought  to  the  table,  Mrs.  Lane  filled  a  little  dish, 
and  desired  the  butler  who  waited  at  the  table 
"to  carry  that  dish  of  porridge  to  William,  and 
to  tell  him  that  he  should  have  some  meat  sent  to 
him  presently. ' '  The  butler  carried  the  porridge 
into  the  chamber,  with  a  napkin,  and  spoon,  and 
bread,  and  spoke  kindly  to  the  young  man,  who 
was  willing  to  be  eating. 

The  butler,  looking  narrowly  upon  him,  fell 
upon  his  knees,  and  with  tears  told  him,  "  he  was 
glad  to  see  his  majesty. ' '  The  king  was  infinitely 
surprised,  yet  recollected  himself  enough  to  laugh 
at  the  man,  and  to  ask  him  "what  he  meant?" 
The  man  had  been  falconer  to  Sir  Thomas  Jermyn, 
and  made  it  appear  that  he  knew  well  enough  to 
whom  he  spoke,  repeating  some  particulars  which 
the  king  had  not  forgot.  Whereupon  the  king 
conjured  him  "  not  to  speak  of  what  he  knew,  so 
much  as  to  his  master,  though  he  believed  him  a 
very  honest  man."  The  fellow  promised,  and 
kept  his  word ;  and  the  king  was  the  better  waited 
upon  during  the  time  of  his  abode  there. 

Dr.  Gorges,  the  king's  chaplain,  being  a  gentle- 
man of  a  good  family  near  that  place,  and  allied 
to  Mr.  Norton,  supped  with  them  ;  and  being  a 
man  of  a  cheerful  conversation,  asked  Mrs.  Lane 
many  questions  concerning  William,  of  whom  he 
saw  she  was  so  careful,  by  sending  up  meat  to 
him,  "how  long  his  ague  had  been  gone?  and 
whether  he  had  taken  medicine  since  it  left  him?" 
and  the  like  ;  to  which  she  gave  such  answers  as 
occurred.  The  doctor,  from  the  final  prevalence  of 
the  Parliament,  had,  as  many  others  of  that  func- 
tion had  done,  declined  his  profession,  and  pre- 
tended to  study  physic.  As  soon  as  supper  was 
done,  out  of  good  nature,  and  without  telling 
anybody,  he  went  to  see  William.  The  king  saw 
him  coming  into  the  chamber,  and  withdrew  to 
the  inside  of  the  bed,  that  he  might  be  farthest 
from  the  candle ;  and  the  doctor  came  and  sat 
down  by  him,  felt  his  pulse,  and  asked  him  many 
questions,  which  he  answered  in  as  few  words  as 
was  possible,  and  expressing  great  inclination  to 
go  to  his  bed  ;  to  which  the  doctor  left  him,  and 
went  to  Mrs.  Lane,  and  told  her  "that  he  had 
been  with  William,  and  that  he  would  do  well;" 
and  advised  her  what  she  should  do  if  his  ague 
returned.  The  next  morning  the  doctor  went 
away,  so  that  the  king  saw  him  no  more.     The 


next  day,  the  Lord  Wilmot  came  to  the  house 
with  his  hawk,  to  see  Mrs.  Lane,  and  so  conferred 
with  William,  who  was  to  consider  what  he  was 
to  do.  They  thought  it  necessary  to  rest  some 
days,  till  they  were  informed  what  pert  la)'  most 
convenient  for  them,  and  what  person  lived  nearest 
to  it,  upon  whose  fidelity  the}-  might  rely  ;  and 
the  king  gave  him  directions  to  inquire  after  some 
persons,  and  some  other  particulars,  of  which  when 
he  should  be  fully  instructed,  he  should  return 
again  to  him.  In  the  mean  time,  Wilmot  lodged 
at  a  house  not  far  from  Mr.  Norton's,  to  which  he 
had  been  recommended. 

After  some  days'  stay  here,  and  communication 
between  the  king  and  the  Lord  Wilmot  by  letters, 
the  king  came  to  know  that  Colonel  Francis 
Windham  lived  within  little  more  than  a  day's 
journey  of  the  place  where  he  was,  of  which  he 
was  very  glad  ;  for,  besides  the  inclination  he  had 
to  his  eldest  brother,  whose  wife  had  been  his 
nurse,  this  gentleman  had  behaved  himself  very 
well  during  the  war,  and  had  been  governor  of 
Dunstar  castle,  where  the  king  had  lodged  when 
he  was  in  the  west.  After  the  end  of  the  war, 
and  when  all  other  places  were  surrendered  in 
that  county,  he  likewise  surrendered  that,  upon 
fair  conditions,  and  made  his  peace,  and  after- 
wards married  a  wife  with  a  competent  fortune, 
and  lived  quietly,  without  any  suspicion  of  having 
lessened  his  affection  towards  his  king. 

The  king  sent  Wilmot  to  him,  and  acquainted 
him  where  he  was,  and  "that  he  would  gladly 
speak  with  him."  It  was  not  hard  for  him  to 
choose  a  good  place  where  to  meet,  and  thereupon 
the  day  was  appointed.  After  the  king  had  taken 
his  leave  of  Mrs.  Lane,  who  remained  with  her 
cousin  Norton,  the  king  and  the  Lord  Wilmot 
met  the  colonel  ;  and  in  the  way  he  met,  in  a  town 
through  which  they  passed,  Mr.  Kirton,  a  servant 
of  the  king's,  who  well  knew  the  Lord  Wilmot, 
who  had  no  other  disguise  than  the  hawk,  but 
took  no  notice  of  him,  nor  suspected  the  king  to 
be  there  ;  yet  that  day  made  the  king  more  wary 
of  having  him  in  his  company  upon  the  way.  At 
the  place  of  meeting,  they  rested  only  one  night, 
and  then  the  king  went  to  the  colonel's  house, 
where  he  rested  many  days,  whilst  the  colonel 
projected  at  what  place  the  king  might  embark, 
and  how  they  might  procure  a  vessel  to  be  ready 
there,  which  was  not  easy  to  find,  there  being  so 
great  a  fear  possessing  those  who  were  honest, 


2J0 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


that  it  was  hard  to  procure  any  vessel  that  was 
outward-bound  to  take  in  any  passenger. 

There  was  a  gentleman,  one  Mr.  Ellison,  who 
lived  near  Lyme,  in  Dorsetshire,  and  was  well 
known  to  Colonel  Windham,  having  been  a  cap- 
tain in  the  king's  army,  and  was  still  looked  upon 
as  a  very  honest  man.  With  him  the  colonel  con- 
sulted how  they  might  get  a  vessel  to  be  ready  to 
take  in  a  couple  of  gentlemen,  friends  of  his,  who 
were  in  danger  to  be  arrested,  and  transport  them 
into  France.  Though  no  man  would  ask  who  the 
persons  were,  yet  it  could  not  but  be  suspected 
who  they  were  ;  at  least  they  concluded  that  it 
\va  5  some  of  Worcester  party.  Lyme  was  gene- 
rally as  malicious  and  disaffected  a  town  to  the 
king's  interest  as  any  town  in  England  could  be, 
yet  there  was  in  it  a  master  of  a  bark,  of  whose 
honesty  this  captain  was  very  confident.  This 
man  was  lately  returned  from  France,  and  had 
unladen  his  vessel,  when  Ellison  asked  him 
"  when  he  would  make  another  voyage  ? "  And 
he  answered,  "  as  soon  as  he  could  get  lading  for 
his  ship."  The  other  asked  "  whether  he  would 
undertake  to  cany  over  a  couple  of  gentlemen, 
and  laud  them  in  France,  if  he  might  be  as  well 
paid  for  his  voyage  as  he  used  to  be  when  he  was 
freighted  by  the  merchants?"  In  conclusion,  he 
told  him  "he  should  receive  fifty  pounds  for  his 
fare. ' '  The  large  recompense  had  that  effect,  that 
the  man  undertook  it ;  though  he  said  "  he  must 
make  his  provision  very  secretly,  for  that  he 
might  be  well  suspected  for  going  to  sea  again 
without  being  freighted,  after  he  was  so  newly 
returned."  Colonel  Windham  being  advertised 
of  this,  came,  together  with  the  Lord  Wilmot,  to 
the  captain's  house,  from  whence  the  lord  and  the 
captain  rid  to  a  house  near  Lyme,  where  the 
master  of  the  bark  met  them  :  and  the  Lord  Wil- 
mot being  satisfied  with  the  discourse  of  the  man, 
and  his  wariness  in  foreseeing  suspicions  which 
would  arise,  it  was  resolved  that  on  such  a  night, 
which  upon  consideration  of  the  tides  was  agreed 
upon,  the  man  should  draw  out  his  vessel  from 
the  pier,  and,  being  at  sea,  should  come  to  such 
a  point  about  a  mile  from  the  town,  where  his 
ship  should  remain  upon  the  beach  when  the 
water  was  gone,  which  would  take  it  off  again 
about  break  of  day  the  next  morning.  There 
was  very  near  that  point,  even  in  the  view  of  it, 
a  small  inn,  kept  by  a  man  who  was  reputed 
honest,    to  which   the    cavaliers   of   the  country 


often  resorted  ;  and  the  Louden  road  passed  that 
way,  so  that  it  was  seldom  without  company. 
Into  that  inn  the  two  gentlemen  were  to  come  in 
the  beginning  of  the  night,  that  the}-  might  put 
themselves  on  board.  All  things  being  thus  con- 
certed, and  good  earnest  given  to  the  master,  the 
Lord  Wilmot  and  the  colonel  returned  to  the 
colonel's  house,  above  a  day's  journey  from  the 
place,  the  captain  undertaking  every  day  to  look 
that  the  master  should  provide,  and,  if  anything 
fell  out  contrary  to  expectation,  to  give  the  colonel 
notice  at  such  a  place  where  they  intended  the 
king  should  be  the  day  before  he  was  to  embark. 

The  king  being  satisfied  with  these  prepara- 
tions, came  at  the  time  appointed  to  that  house 
where  he  was  to  hear  that  all  went  as  it  ought  to 
do  ;  of  which  he  received  assurance  from  the  cap- 
tain, who  found  that  the  man  had  honestly  put 
his  provisions  on  board,  and  had  his  company 
read}-,  which  were  but  four  men,  and  that  the 
vessel  should  be  drawn  out  that  night ;  so  that  it 
was  fit  for  the  two  persons  to  come  to  the  afore- 
said inn  :  and  the  captain  conducted  them  within 
sight  of  it,  and  then  went  to  his  own  house,  not 
distant  a  mile  from  it ;  the  colonel  remaining  still 
at  the  house  where  they  had  lodged  the  night 
before,  till  he  might  hear  the  news  of  their  being 
embarked. 

They  found  many  passengers  in  the  inn,  and  so 
were  to  be  contented  with  an  ordinary  chamber, 
which  they  did  not  intend  to  sleep  long  in.  But 
as  soon  as  there  appeared  any  light,  Wilmot  went 
out  to  discover  the  bark,  of  which  there  was  no 
appearance.  In  a  word,  the  sun  arose,  and 
nothing  like  a  ship  in  view.  They  sent  to  the 
captain,  who  was  as  much  amazed;  and  he  sent 
to  the  town,  and  his  servant  could  not  find  the 
master  of  the  bark,  which  was  still  in  the  pier. 
They  suspected  the  captain,  and  the  captain  sus- 
pected the  master.  However,  it  being  past  ten 
of  the  clock,  they  concluded  it  was  not  fit  for 
them  to  stay  longer  there,  and  so  they  mounted 
their  horses  again  to  return  to  the  house  where 
they  had  left  the  colonel,  who,  they  knew,  re- 
solved to  stay  there  till  he  were  assured  that  they 
were  gone. 

The  truth  of  the  disappointment  was  this  :  the 
man  meant  honestly,  and  made  all  things  ready 
for  his  departure  ;  and  the  night  he  was  to  go  out 
with  his  vessel,  he  had  stayed  in  his  own  house, 
and  slept  two  or  three  hours  ;  and  the  time  of  the 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


201 


tide  being  come  that  it  was  necessary  to  be  on  used  to  go  with  him,  and  that  some  of  them  had 
board,  he  took  out  of  a  cupboard  some  linen  and  carried  provisions  on  board  the  bark ;  of  which 
other  things,  which  he  used  to  carry  with  him  to     she  had  asked  her  husband  the  reason,  who  had 

J 


LORD   WILMOT   AND    KING   CHARLES   AT  THE   DOOR   OF   THE   INN. 

sea.  His  wife  had  observed  that  he  had  been  for  told  her  "  that  he  was  promised  freight  speedily, 
si^me  days  fuller  of  thoughts  than  he  used  to  be,  and  therefore  he  would  make  all  things  ready." 
and  that  he  had  been  speaking  with  seamen  who      She  was  sure  that  there  was  yet  no  lading  in  the 


202 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


ship,  and  therefore,  when  she  saw  her  husband 
take  all  those  materials  with  him,  which  was  a 
sure  sign  that  he  meant  to  go  to  sea,  and  it  being 
late  in  the  night,  she  shut  the  door,  and  swore  he 
should  not  go  out  of  his  house.  He  told  her  ' '  he 
must  go,  and  was  engaged  to  go  to  sea  that  night, 
for  which  he  should  be  well  paid."  His  wife  told 
him  "  she  was  sure  he  was  doing  somewhat  that 
would  undo  him,  and  she  was  resolved  he  should 
not  go  out  of  his  house  ;  and  if  he  should  persist 
in  it,  she  would  tell  the  neighbours,  and  carry  him 
before  the  mayor  to  be  examined,  that  the  truth 
might  be  found  out."  The  poor  man,  thus  mas- 
tered by  the  passion  and  violence  of  his  wife,  was 
forced  to  yield  to  her,  that  there  might  be  no 
farther  noise,  and  so  went  into  his  bed. 

And  it  was  very  happy  that  the  king's  jealousy 
hastened  him  from  that  inn.  It  was  the  solemn 
fast-day,  which  was  observed  in  those  times  prin- 
cipally to  inflame  the  people  against  the  king,  and 
all  those  who  were  loyal  to  him  ;  and  there  was  a 
chapel  in  that  village  over  against  that  inn,  where 
a  weaver,  who  had  been  a  soldier,  used  to  preach, 
and  utter  all  the  villany  imaginable  against  the 
old  order  of  government  ;  and  he  was  then  in  the 
chapel  preaching  to  his  congregation  when  the 
king  went  from  thence,  and  telling  the  people 
"that  Charles  Stuart  was  lurking  somewhere  in 
that  country,  and  that  they  would  merit  from  God 
Almighty  if  the}'  could  find  him  out."  The  pas- 
sengers, who  had  lodged  in  the  inn  that  night, 
had,  as  soon  as  they  were  up,  sent  for  a  smith  to 
visit  their  horses,  it  being  a  hard  frost.  The 
smith,  when  he  had  done  what  he  was  sent  for, 
according  to  the  custom  of  that  people,  examined 
the  feet  of  the  other  two  horses,  to  find  more 
work.  When  he  had  observed  them,  he  told  the 
host  of  the  house  "that  one  of  those  horses  had 
travelled  far,  and  that  he  was  sure  that  his  four 
shoes  had  been  made  in  four  several  counties;" 
which,  whether  his  skill  was  able  to  discover  or 
mi,  was  very  true.  The  smith  going  to  the  ser- 
mon, told  his  story  to  some  of  his  neighbours,  and 
so  it  came  tc  the  ears  of  the  preacher  when  his 
sermon  was  done.  Immediately  he  sent  for  an 
officer,  and  searched  the  inn,  and  inquired  for 
those  horses  ;  and  being  informed  that  they  were 
gone,  he  caused  horses  to  be  sent  to  follow  them, 
and  to  make  inquiry  after  the  two  men  who  rid 
those  horses,  and  positively  declared  "  that  one  of 
them  was  Charles  Stuart." 


When  they  came  again  to  the  colonel,  the}' 
presently  concluded  that  the}-  were  to  make  no 
longer  stay  in  those  parts,  nor  any  more  to  endea- 
vour to  find  a  ship  upon  that  coast ;  and  without 
any  farther  delay,  the}-  rode  back  to  the  colonel's 
house,  where  they  arrived  in  the  night.  Then 
they  resolved  to  make  their  next  attempt  in 
Hampshire  and  Sussex,  where  Colonel  Windham 
had  no  interest.  They  must  pass  through  all 
Wiltshire  before  they  came  thither,  which  would 
require  man}-  days'  journey  ;  and  they  were  first 
to  consider  what  honest  houses  there  were  in  or 
near  the  way,  where  the}-  might  securely  repose  , 
and  it  was  thought  very  dangerous  for  the  king 
to  ride  through  any  great  town,  as  Salisbury  or 
Winchester,  which  might  probably  lie  in  their 
way. 

There  was,  between  that  and  Salisbury,  a  very 
honest  gentleman,  Colonel  Robert  Philips,  a 
younger  brother  of  a  very  good  family,  which  had 
always  been  very  loyal,  and  he  had  served  the 
king  during  the  war.  The  king  was  resolved  to 
trust  him,  and  so  sent  the  Lord  Wilmot  to  a  place 
from  whence  he  might  send  to  Mr.  Philips  to  come 
to  him  ;  and  when  he  had  spoken  with  him,  Mr. 
Philips  should  come  to  the  king,  and  Wilmot  was 
to  stay  in  such  a  place  as  they  two  should  agree. 
Mr.  Philips  accordingly  came  to  the  colonel's 
house,  which  he  could  do  without  suspicion,  they 
being  nearly  allied.  The  ways  were  very  full  of 
soldiers,  which  were  sent  now  from  the  army  to 
their  quarters,  and  many  regiments  of  horse  and 
foot  were  assigned  for  the  west,  of  which  division 
Desborough  was  commander-in-chief.  These 
marches  were  like  to  last  for  many  days,  and  it 
would  not  be  fit  for  the  king  to  stay  so  long  in 
that  place.  Thereupon  he  resorted  to  his  old 
security  of  taking  a  woman  behind  him,  a  kins- 
woman of  Colonel  Windham,  whom  he  carried  in 
that  manner  to  a  place  not  far  from  Salisbury,  to 
which  Colonel  Philips  conducted  him.  In  this 
journey  he  passed  through  the  middle  of  a  regi- 
ment of  horse,  and,  presently  after,  met  Des- 
borough walking  down  a  hill  with  three  or  four 
men  with  him,  who  had  lodged  in  Salisbury  the 
night  before,  all  that  road  being  full  of  soldiers. 

The  next  day,  upon  the  plains,  Dr.  Hinchman, 
one  of  the  prebends  of  Salisbury,  met  the  king, 
the  Lord  Wilmot  and  Philips  then  leaving  him 
to  go  to  the  sea  coast  to  find  a  vessel,  the  doctor 
conducting  the  king    to    a    place  called   Heale, 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


203 


three  miles  from  Salisbury,  belonging  then  to 
Serjeant  Hyde,  who  was  aftenvards  Chief  Justice 
of  the  King's  Bench,  and  then  in  possession  of 
the  widow  of  his  elder  brother — a  house  that 
stood  alone  from  neighbours,  and  from  any  high- 
way— where  coming  in  late  in  the  evening,  he 
supped  with  some  gentlemen  who  accidentally 
were  in  the  house,  which  could  not  well  be 
avoided.  But  the  next  morning  he  went  early 
from  thence,  as  if  he  had  continued  his  journey  ; 
and  the  widow,  being  trusted  with  the  knowledge 
of  her  guest,  sent  her  servants  out  of  the  way, 
and  at  an  hour  appointed  received  him  again, 
and  accommodated  him  in  a  little  room,  which 
had  been  made  since  the  beginning  of  the 
troubles  for  the  concealment  of  delinquents,  the 
seat  always  belonging  to  a  malignant  family. 

Here  he  lay  concealed,  without  the  knowledge 
of  some  gentlemen,  who  lived  in  the  house,  and 
of  others  who  daily  resorted  thither,  for  many 
days ;  the  widow  herself  only  attending  him 
with  such  things  as  were  necessary,  and  bringing 
him  such  letters  as  the  doctor  received  from  the 
Lord  Wilmot  and  Colonel  Philips.  A  vessel 
being  at  last  provided  upon  the  coast  of  Sussex, 
and  notice  thereof  sent  to  Dr.  Hinchman,  he  sent 
to  the  king  to  meet  him  at  Stonehenge,  upon  the 
plains,  three  miles  from  Heale,  whither  the  widoc 
took  care  to  direct  him  ;  and  being  there  met,  he 
attended  him  to  the  place  where  Colonel  Philips 
received  him.  He,  the  next  day,  delivered  him 
to  the  Lord  Wilmot,  who  went  with  him  to  a 
house  in  Sussex  recommended  by  Colonel 
Gunter,  a  gentleman  of  that  country,  who  had 
served  the  king  in  the  war,  who  met  him  there, 
and  had  provided  a  little  bark  at  Brighthelm- 
stone,  a  small  fisher  town,  where  he  went  early 
on  board,  and,  by  God's  blessing,  arrived  safely 
in  Normandy. 


CHARACTER  OF  OLIVER  CROMV^ELL. 

THE  true  character  of  Oliver  Cromwell  was 
perhaps  never  more  correctly  painted  than 
in  the  following  sketch  by  Lord  Clarendon. 
Cromwell  possessed  great  abilities,  both  as  a  sol- 
dier and  a  statesman,  but  his  actions  were 
dictated  by  personal  ambition  to  a  greater  extent 
than  the)'  were  by  love  of  country.  His  character 
was  well  suited  to  the  times  and  the  work  he  had 
to  accomplish,  and  he  played  his  part,  doubtless, 
better  than  any  other  man  could  have  done ;  yet 


his  contradictions  of  excessive  piety  and  lack  of 
moral  principle  mark  him  as  a  man  who  acted  a 
double  part  and  wanted  to  appear  what  he  really 
was  not. 

He  was  one  of  those  men,  says  Clarendon, 
whom  his  very  enemies  could  not  condemn  with- 
out commending  him  at  the  same  time  ;  for  he 
could  never  have  clone  half  that  mischief  without 
great  parts  of  courage,  industry,  and  judgment. 
He  must  have  had  a  wonderful  understanding  in 
the  natures  and  humors  of  men,  and  as  great  a 
dexterity  in  applying  them ;  who,  from  a  private 
and  obscure  birth  (though  of  a  good  family), 
without  interest  or  estate,  alliance  or  friendship, 
could  raise  himself  to  such  a  height,  and  com- 
pound and  knead  such  opposite  and  contradictory- 
tempers,  humors,  and  interests  into  a  consistence, 
that  contributed  to  his  designs,  and  to  their  own 
destruction  ;  whilst  himself  grew  insensibly  pow- 
erful enough  to  cut  off  those  by  whom  he  had 
climbed,  in  the  instant  that  they  projected  to  de- 
molish their  own  building.  What  was  said  of 
Cinna  may  be  justly  said  of  him,  "He  at- 
tempted those  things  which  no  good  man  durst 
have  ventured  on,  and  achieved  those  in  which 
none  but  a  valiant  and  great  man  could  have  suc- 
ceeded." Without  doubt,  no  man  with  more 
wickedness  ever  attempted  anything,  or  brought 
to  pass  what  he  desired  more  wickedly-,  more  in 
the  face  and  contempt  of  religion  and  moral 
honesty.  Yet  wickedness  as  great  as  his  could 
never  have  accomplished  those  designs  without 
the  assistance  of  a  great  spirit,  an  admirable  cir- 
cumspection and  sagacity,  and  a  most  magnani- 
mous resolution. 

When  he  appeared  first  in  the  parliament,  he 
seemed  to  have  a  person  in  no  degree  gracious,  no 
ornament  of  discourse,  none  of  those  talents  which 
use  to  conciliate  the  affections  of  the  stander-by. 
Yet  as  he  grew  into  place  and  authority-,  his  parts 
seemed  to  be  raised,  as  if  he  had  had  concealed 
faculties,  till  he  had  occasion  to  use  them  ;  and 
when  he  was  to  act  the  part  of  a  great  man,  he  did 
it  without  any  indecency,  notwithstanding  the 
want  of  custom. 

After  he  was  confirmed  and  invested  Protector  by 
the  humble  petition  and  advice,  he  consulted  with 
veryr  few  upon  any  action  of  importance,  nor  com- 
municated any  enterprise  he  resolved  upon  with 
more  than  those  who  were  to  have  principal  parts 
:n  the  execution  of  it ;  nor  with  them  sooner  than 


204 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


was  absolutely  necessary.  What  he  once  resolved, 
in  which  he  was  not  rash,  he  would  not  be  dis- 
suaded from,  nor  endure  any  contradiction  of  his 


11 1  AT 


V 


OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

power  and  authority,  but  extorted  obedience  from 
them  who  were  not  willing  to  yield  it. 

Thus  he  subdued  a  spirit  that  had  been  often 


troublesome  to  the  most  sovereign  power,  and  made 
Westminster  Hall  as  obedient  and  subservient  to 
his  commands  as  any  of  the  rest  of  his  quarters. 
In  all  other  matters,  which  did  not 
concern  the  life  of  his  jurisdiction, 
he  seemed  to  have  great  reverence  for 
the  law,  rarely  interposing  between 
party  and  party.  As  he  proceeded 
with  this  kind  of  indignation  and 
haughtiness  with  those  who  were  re- 
fractor}', and  durst  contend  with  his 
greatness,  so  towards  all  who  com- 
plied with  his  good  pleasure,  and 
courted  his  protection,  he  used  great 
civility,  generosity  and  bounty. 

To  reduce  three  nations,  which 
perfectly  hated  him,  to  an  entire  obe- 
dience to  all  dictates  ;  to  awe  and 
govern  those  nations  by  an  army  that 
was  indevoted  to  him,  and  wished 
his  ruin,  was  an  instance  of  a  very 
prodigious  address.  But  his  great- 
ness at  home  was  but  a  shadow  of 
the  glory  he  had  abroad.  It  was 
hard  to  discover  which  feared  him 
most,  France,  Spain,  or  the  Low 
Countries,  where  his  friendship  was 
current  at  the  value  he  put  upon  it. 
As  they  did  all  sacrifice  their  honour 
and  their  interest  to  his  pleasure,  so 
there  is  nothing  he  could  have  de- 
manded that  either  of  them  would 
have  denied  him. 

To  conclude  his  character  :  Crom- 
well was  not  so  far  a  man  of  blood 
as  to  follow  Machiavel's  method ; 
which  prescribes,  upon  a  total  altera- 
tion of  government,  as  a  thing  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  cut  off  all  the 
heads  of  those,  and  extirpate  their 
families,  who  are  friends  to  the  old 
one.  It  was  confidently  reported,  that 
in  the  council  of  officers  it  was  more 
than  once  proposed,  ''that  there 
might  be  a  general  massacre  of  all 
the  royal  party,  as  the  only  expedient 
to  secure  the  government, ' '  but  that 
Cromwell  would  never  consent  to  it ; 
it  mav  be,  out  of  too  great  a  contempt  of  his  ene- 
mies. In  a  word,  as  he  was  guilty  of  many 
crimes    against  which    damnation   is   denounced, 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


20." 


and  for  which  hell-fire  is  prepared,  so  he  had  some 
good  qualities  which  have  caused  the  memory  of 
some  men  in  all  ages  to  be  celebrated. 

CHARACTER    AND     DEATH     OF    EDWARD    VI. 

[Selected  from  the  works  of   Gilbert  Burnett, 
an  English  historian  of  the  seventeenth  century]. 

IX    the  beginning  of  January  this  year  [1553], 
he   was  seized  with  a  deep  cough,  and  all 
medicines  that  were  used  did  rather  increase  than 


covered,  he  resumed  most  of  the  heads  of  the 
sermon,  and  said  he  looked  upon  himself  as 
chiefly  touched  by  it.  He  desired  him,  as  he  had 
already  given  him  the  exhortation  in  general,  so 
to  direct  him  to  do  his  duty  in  chat  particular. 
The  bishop,  astonished  at  this  tenderness  in  so 
young  a  prince,  burst  forth  in  tears,  expressing 
how  much  he  was  overjoyed  to  see  such  inclina- 
tions in  him  ;  but  told  him  he  must  take  time  to 
think   on  it,  and  craved  leave  co  consult  with  the 


CROMWELL   AT  THE   COFFIN    OF   CHARLES    I. 


lessen  it.  He  was  so  ill  when  the  parliament 
met,  that  he  was  not  able  to  go  to  Westminster, 
but  ordered  their  first  meeting  and  the  sermon  to 
be  at  Whitehall.  In  the  time  of  his  sickness, 
Bishop  Ridley  preached  before  him,  and  took 
occasion  to  run  out  much  on  works  of  charity, 
and  the  obligation  that  lay  on  men  of  high  condi- 
tion to  be  eminent  in  good  works.  This  touched 
the  king  to  the  quick  ;  so  that,  presently  after  the 
sermon,  he  sent  for  the  bishop.  And,  after  he 
had  commanded  him  to  sit  down  bv  him,  and  be 


lord-mayor  and  court  of  aldermen.  So  the  king 
writ  by  him  to  them  to  consult  speedily  how  the 
poor  should  be  relieved.  They  considered  there 
were  three  sorts  of  poor  ;  such  as  were  so  by  natu- 
ral infirmity  or  folly,  as  impotent  persons,  and 
madmen  or  idiots  ;  such  as  were  so  by  accident,  as 
sick  or  maimed  persons;  and  such  as,  by  their 
idleness,  did  cast  themselves  into  poverty.  So  the 
king  ordered  the  Greyfriars'  church,  near  New- 
gate, with  the  revenues  belonging  to  it,  to  be  a 
house  for  orphans  ;  St.  Bartholomew's,  near  Smith- 


206     THE    WONDERFUL.  THE    CURIOUS,  AND   THE    BEAUTIFUL. 


field,  to  be  an  hospital  :  and  gave  his  own  house 
of  Bridewell  to  be  a  place  of  correction  and  work 
for  such  as  were  wilfully  idle.  He  also  confirmed 
and  enlarged  the  grant  for  the  hospital  of  St. 
Thomas  in  Southwark,  which  he  had  erected  and 
endowed  in  August  last.  And  when  he  set  his 
hand  to  these  foundations,  which  was  not  done 
before  the  5th  of  June  this  year,  he  thanked  God 
that  had  prolonged  his  life  till  he  had  finished 
that  design.  So  he  was  the  first  founder  of  those 
houses,  which,  by  many  great  additions  since  that 
time,  have  risen  to  be  amongst  the  noblest  in 
Europe. 

He  expressed,  in  the  whole  course  of  his  sick- 
ness, great  submission  to  the  will  of  God,  and 
seemed  glad  at  the  approaches  of  death  ;  only, 
the  consideration  of  religion  and  the  church 
touched  him  much  ;  and  upon  that  account  he 
.said  he  was  desirous  of  life.  .  .  His  distemper 
rather  increased  than  abated  ;  so  that  the  physi- 
cians had  no  hope  of  his  recovery.  Upon  which 
a  confident  woman  came,  and  undertook  his  cure, 
if  he  might  be  put  into  her  hands.  This  was 
done,  and  the  physicians  were  put  from  him,  upon 
this  pretence,  that,  they  having  no  hopes  of  his 
recovery,  in  a  desperate  case  desperate  remedies 
were  to  be  applied.  This  was  said  to  be  the 
Duke  of  Northumberland's  advice  in  particular  ; 
and  it  increased  the  people's  jealousy  of  him, 
when  they  saw  the  king  grow  sensibly  worse 
every  day  after  he  came  under  the  woman's  care  ; 
which  becoming  so  plain,  she  was  put  from  him, 
and  the  physicians  were  again  sent  for,  and  took 
him  into  their  charge.  But  if  they  had  small 
hopes  before,  they  had  none  at  all  now.  Death 
thus  hastening  on  him,  the  Duke  of  Northumber- 
land, who  had  done  but  half  his  work,  except  he 
had  got  the  king's  sisters  in  his  hands,  got  the 
council  to  write  to  them  in  the  king's  name,  in- 
viting them  to  come  and  keep  him  company  in 
his  sickness.  But  as  they  were  on  the  wav,  on 
the  6th  of  Jul\-,  his  spirits  and  body  were  so  sunk, 
that  he  found  death  approaching  ;  and  so  he  com- 
posed himself  to  die  in  a  most  devout  manner. 
His  whole  exercise  was  in  short  prayers  and 
ejaculations.  The  last  that  he  was  heard  to  use 
was  in  these  words  :  "  Lord  God,  deliver  me  out 
of  this  miserable  and  wretched  life,  and  take  me 
among  thy  chosen  ;  howbeit,  not  my  will,  but 
thine  be  done  ;  Lord,  I  commit  my  spirit  to  thee. 
Oh  Lord,  thou  knowest  how  happy  it  were  for  me 


to  be  with  thee  ;  yet,  for  thy  chosen's  sake,  send 
me  life  and  health,  that  I  may  truly  serve  thee. 
Oh  ni}'  Lord  God,  bless  my  people,  and  save  thine 
inheritance.  Oh  Lord  God,  save  thy  chosen  peo- 
ple of  England  ;  oh  Lord  God,  defend  this  realm 
from  papistry,  and  maintain  tin-  true  religion, 
that  I  and  rny  people  may  praise  thy  holy  name, 
for  Jesus  Christ  his  sake."  Seeing  some  about 
him,  he  seemed  troubled  that  the}-  were  so  near, 
and  had  heard  him  :  but,  with  a  pleasant  counte- 
nance, he  said  he  had  been  praying  to  God.  And 
soon  after,  the  pangs  of  death  coming  upon  him, 
he  said  to  Sir  Henry  Sidney,  who  was  holding 
him  in  his  arms,  "I  am  faint  ;  Lord  have  mercy 
011  me,  and  receive  my  spirit  ;"  and  so  he  breathed 
out  his  innocent  soul. 


CHARLES  THE   SECOND. 

BY   GILBERT    BURNETT. 

CHUS  lived  and  died  King  Charles  II.  He 
was  the  greatest  instance  in  the  history  of 
the  various  revolutions  of  which  any  one  man 
seemed  capable.  He  was  bred  up  the  first  twelve 
years  of  his  life  with  the  splendor  that  became 
the  heir  of  so  great  a  crown.  After  that,  he 
passed  through  eighteen  years  of  great  inequali- 
ties ;  unhappy  in  the  war,  in  the  loss  of  his 
father,  and  of  the  crown  of  England.  Scotland 
did  not  only  receive  him,  though  upon  terms  hard 
of  digestion,  but  made  an  attempt  upon  England 
for  him,  though  a  feeble  one.  He  lost  the  battle 
of  Worcester  with  too  much  indifference.  And 
then  he  showed  more  care  of  his  person  than  be- 
came one  who  had  so  much  at  stake.  He  wan- 
dered about  England  for  ten  weeks  after 
that,  hiding  from  place  to  place.  But,  under  all 
the  apprehensions  he  had  then  upon  him,  he 
showed  a  temper  so  careless,  and  so  much  turned 
to  levity,  that  he  was  then  diverting  himself  with 
little  household  sports,  in  as  unconcerned  a 
manner  as  if  he  had  made  no  loss,  and  had  been 
in  no  danger  at  all.  He  got  at  last  out  of  Eng- 
land. But  he  had  been  obliged  to  so  many  who 
had  been  faithful  to  him,  and  careful  of  him,  that 
he  seemed  afterwards  to  resolve  to  make  an  equal 
return  to  them  all  ;  and  finding  it  not  easy  to  re- 
ward them  all  as  they  deserved,  he  forgot  them 
all  alike.  Most  princes  seem  to  have  this  pretty 
deep  in  them,  and  to  think  that  they  ought  never 
to  remember  past  services,  but  that  their  accept- 
ance of  them  is  a  full  reward.     He,  of  all  in  our 


* 


(80?) 


208 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


age,  exerted  this  piece  of  prerogative  in  the 
amplest  manner ;  for  he  never  seemed  to  charge 
his  memory,  or  to  trouble  his  thoughts,  with  the 
sense  of  any  of  the  services  that  had  been  done 
him.  While  he  was  abroad  at  Paris,  Cologne,  or 
Brussels,  he  never  seemed  to  lay  anything  to 
heart.  He  pursued,  all  his  diversions  and  irregu- 
lar pleasures  in  a  free  career,  and  seemed  to  be  as 
serene  under  the  loss  of  a  crown  as  the  greatest 
philosopher  could  have  been.  Xor  did  he  will- 
ingly hearken  to  any  of  those  projects  with 
which  he  often  complained  that  his  chancellor 
persecuted  him.  That  in  which  he  seemed  most 
concerned  was,  to  find  money  for  supporting  his 
expense.  And  it  was  often  said,  that  if  Crom- 
well would  have  compounded  the  matter,  and 
have  given  him  a  good  round  pension,  that  he 
might  have  been  induced  to  resign  his  title  to  him. 
During  his  exile,  he  delivered  himself  so  entirely 
to  his  pleasures,  that  he  became  incapable  of  ap- 
plication. He  spent  little  of  his  time  in  reading 
or  study,  and  yet  less  in  thinking.  And  in  the 
state  his  affairs  were  then  in,  he  accustomed  him- 
self to  say  to  every  person,  and  upon  all  occasions, 
that  which  he  thought  would  please  most;  so 
that  words  or  promises  went  very  easily  from 
him.  And  he  had  so  ill  an  opinion  of  mankind, 
that  he  thought  the  great  art  of  living  and  gov- 
erning was,  to  manage  all  things  and  all  persons 
with  a  depth  of  craft  and  dissimulation.  And  in 
that  few  men  in  the  world  could  put  on  the  ap- 
pearances of  sincerity  better  than  he  could  ;  under 
which  so  much  artifice  was  usually  hid,  that  in 
conclusion  he  could  deceive  none,  for  all  were  be- 
come mistrustful  of  him.  He  had  great  vices, 
but  scarce  any  virtues  to  correct  them.  He  had 
in  him  some  vices  that  were  less  hurtful,  which 
corrected  his  more  hurtful  ones.  He  was,  during 
the  active  part  of  life,  given  up  to  sloth  and  lewd- 
ness to  such  a  degree,  that  he  hated  business,  and 
could  not  bear  the  engaging  in  anything  that 
gave  him  much  trouble,  or  put  him  under  any 
constraint.  And  though  he  desired  to  become 
absolute,  and  to  overturn  both  our  religion  and 
our  laws,  yet  he  would  neither  run  the  risk,  nor 
give  himself  the  trouble,  which  so  great  a  design 
required.  He  had  an  appearance  of  gentleness  in 
his  outward  deportment ;  but  he  seemed  to  have 
no  bowels  nor  tenderness  in  his  nature,  and  in  the 
end  of  his  life  he  became  cruel.  He  was  apt  to 
forgive  all  crimes,  even  blood  itself,  yet  he  never 


forgave  anything  that  was  done  against  himself, 
after  his  first  and  general  act  of  indemnity,  which 
was  to  be  reckoned  as  done  rather  upon  maxims 
of  state  than  inclinations  of  mercy.  He  delivered 
himself  up  to  a  most  enormous  course  of  vice, 
without  any  sort  of  restraint,  even  from  the  con- 
sideration of  the  nearest  relations.  The  most 
studied  extravagances  that  way  seemed,  to  the 
very  last,  to  be  much  delighted  in  and  pursued  by 
him.  He  had  the  art  of  making  all  people  grow 
fond  of  him  at  first,  by  a  softness  in  his  whole 
way  of  conversation,  as  he  was  certainly  the  best- 
bred  man  of  the  age.  But  when  it  appeared  how 
little  could  be  built  on  his  promise,  the}-  were 
cured  of  the  fondness  that  he  was  apt  to  raise  in 
them.  When  he  saw7  young  men  of  quality,  who 
had  something  more  than  ordinary  in  them,  he 
drew  them  about  him,  and  set  himself  to  corrupt 
them  both  in  religion  and  morality  ;  in  which  he 
proved  so  unhappily  successful,  that  he  left  Eng- 
land much  changed  at  his  death  from  what  he  had 
found  it  at  his  restoration.  He  loved  to  talk  over 
all  the  stories  of  his  life  to  every  new  man  that 
came  about  him.  His  stay  in  Scotland,  and  the 
share  he  had  in  the  war  of  Paris,  in  carrying  mes- 
sages from  the  one  side  to  the  other,  were  his 
common  topics.  He  went  over  these  in  a  very 
graceful  manner,  but  so  often  and  so  copiously, 
that  all  those  who  had  been  long  accustomed  to 
them  grew  wear}-  of  them  ;.  and  when  he  entered 
on  those  stories,  they  usually  withdrew.  So  that 
he  often  began  them  in  a  full  audience,  and  before 
he  had  done,  there  were  not  above  four  or  five 
persons  left  about  him,  which  drew  a  severe  jest 
from  Wilmot,  Earl  of  Rochester.  He  said  he 
wondered  to  see  a  man  have  so  good  a  memory  as 
to  repeat  the  same  story  without  losing  the  least 
circumstance,  and  yet  not  remember  that  he  had 
told  it  to  the  same  persons  the  very  clay  before. 
This  made  him  fond  of  strangers,  for  they  heark- 
ened to  all  his  often-repeated  stories,  and  went 
away  as  in  a  rapture  at  such  an  uncommon  con- 
descension in  a  king. 

His  person  and  temper,  his  vices  as  well  as  his 
fortunes,  resemble  the  character  we  have  given  us 
of  Tiberius  so  much,  that  it  were  easy  to  draw 
the  parallel  between  them.  Tibenus's  banish- 
ment, and  his  coming  afterwards  to  reign,  makes 
the  comparison  in  that  respect  come  pretty  near. 
His  hating  of  business,  and  his  love  of  pleasures; 
his  raisin?  of   favorites,    and   trusting  them  en- 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


200 


tiiely;  and  his  pulling  them  down,  and  hating 
them  excessively ;  his  art  of  covering  deep  de- 
signs, particularly  of  revenge,  with  an  appear- 
ance of  softness,  brings  them  so  near  a  likeness, 
that  I  did  not  wonder  much  to  observe  the  resem- 
blance of  their  faces 
and  persons.  At 
Rome,  I  saw  one 
of  the  last  statues 
made  for  Tiberius, 
after  he  had  lost 
his  teeth.  But, 
bating  the  alter- 
ation which  that 
made,  it  was  so 
like  King  Charles, 
that  Prince  Bor- 
ghese  and  Signor 
Dominico,  to  whom 
it  belonged,  did 
agree  with  me 
that  it  looked  like  a 
statue  madefor  him. 
Few  things  ever 
went  near  his  heart. 
The  Duke  of  Glou- 
cester's  death 
seemed  to  touch 
him  much.  But 
those  who  knew 
him  best,  thought 
it  was  because  he 
had  lost  him  by 
whom  only  he  could 
have  balanced  the 
surviving  brother, 
whom  he  hated, 
and  yet  embroiled 
all  his  affairs  to  pre- 
serve the  succession 
to  him. 


the  Czar's  coming  out  of  his  own  country,  on 
which  I  will  now  enlarge.  He  came  this  winter 
over  to  England,  and  stayed  some  months  among 
us.  I  waited  often  on  him,  and  was  ordered,  both 
by  the  king  and  the  archbishop  and  bishops,  to  at- 


KING   CHARLES   AND    HIS   BOON    COMPANIONS. 


PETER  THE  GREAT   IN   ENGLAND,  IN   1698. 

THE  following  account  of  the  visit  of  Peter 
the  Great  of  Russia,  to  England,  in  1698, 
is  all  the  more  iuteresting  from  having  been  writ- 
ten b}-  the  historian  Burnett,  who  was  associated 
with  him  almost  every  day  during  his  residence 
under  the  British  flag,  and  who  had  good  oppor- 
tunities of  observing  his  character  and  habits  : 
I  mentioned,  in  the  relation  of  the  former  3'ear, 
14 


tend  upon  him,  and  to  offer  him  such  informations 
of  our  religion  and  constitution  as  he  was  willing 
to  receive.  I  had  good  interpreters,  so  I  had 
much  free  discourse  with  him.  He  is  a  man  of  a 
very  hot  temper,  soon  inflamed,  and  very  brutal 
in  Ids  passions.  He  raises  his  natural  heat  by 
drinking  much  brandy,  which  he  rectifies  himself 
with  great  application  ;  he  is  subject  to  convulsive 
motions  all  over  his  body,  and  his  head  seems  to 


210 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND  THE 


be  affected  with  these  ;  he  wants  not  capacity,  and 
has  a  larger  measure  of  knowledge  than  might  be 
expected  from  his  education,  which  was  very  in- 
different ;  a  want  of  judgment,  with  an  insta- 
bility of  temper,  appear  in  him  too  often  and  too 
evidently  ;  he  is  mechanically  turned,  and  seems 
designed  by  nature  rather  to  be  a  ship-carpenter 
than  a  great  prince.  This  was  his  chief  study 
and  pleasure  while  he  remained  here  ;  he  wrought 
much  with  his  own  hands,  and  made  all  about  him 
work  at  the  models  of  ships.  He  told  me  he  de- 
signed a  great  fleet  at  Azuph,  and  with  it  to 
attack  the  Turkish  Empire  :  but  he  did  not  seem 
capable  of  conducting  so  great  a  design,  though 
his  conduct  in  his  wars  since  this  has  discovered 
a  greater  genius  in  him  than  appeared  at  that  time. 
He  was  desirous  to  understand  our  doctrine,  but 
he  did  not  seem  disposed  to  mend  matters  in  Mos- 
cow. He  was,  indeed,  resolved  to  encourage 
learning,  and  to  polish  his  people  by  sending  some 
of  them  to  travel  in  other  countries,  and  to  draw 
strangers  to  come  and  live  among  them.  He 
seemed  apprehensive  still  of  his  sister's  intrigues. 
There  was  a  mixture  both  of  passion  and  severity 
in  his  temper.  He  is  resolute,  but  understands 
little  of  war,  and  seemed  not  at  all  inquisitive  that 
wav.  After  I  had  seen  him  often,  and  had  con- 
versed much  with  him,  I  could  not  but  adore  the 
depth  of  the  providence  of  God,  that  had  raised 
up  such  a  furious  man  to  so  absolute  an  authority 
over  so  great  a  part  of  the  world. 

David,  considering  the  great  things  God  had 
made  for  the  use  of  man,  broke  out  into  the  medi- 
tation, "  What  is  man  that  thou  art  so  mindful  of 
him?"  But  here  there  is  an  occasion  for  re- 
versing these  words,  since  man  seems  a  very  con- 
temptible thing  in  the  sight  of  God,  while  such 
a  person  as  the  Czar  has  such  multitudes  put,  as 
it  were,  under  his  feet,  exposed  to  his  restless  jeal- 
ousy and  savage  temper.  He  went  from  hence  to 
the  court  of  Vienna,  where  he  purposed  to  have 
stayed  some  time  ;  but  he  was  called  home,  sooner 
than  he  intended,  upon  a  discovery  or  a  suspicion 
of  intrigues  managed  by  his  sister.  The  strangers, 
to  whom  he  trusted  most,  were  so  true  to  him, 
that  those  designs  were  crushed  before  he  came 
back.  But  on  this  occasion  he  let  loose  his  fury 
on  all  whom  he  suspected.  Some  hundreds  of 
them  were  hanged  all  round  Moscow  ;  and  it 
was  said  that  he  cut  off  many  heads  with  his 
own  hand.     And  so  far    was  he  from  relenting, 


or  showing  any  sort  of  tenderness,  that  he  seemed 
delighted  with  it.  How  long  he  is  to  be  the 
scourge  of  that  nation,  or  of  his  neighbours,  God 
only  knows.  So  extraordinary  an  incident  will.  I 
hope,  justify  such  a  digression. 


JOHN  LOCKE'S    OPINION   OF    HISTORY. 

THE  stories  of  Alexander  and  Caesar,  farther 
than  they  instruct  us  in  the  art  of  living 
well,  and  furnish  us  with  observations  of  wisdom 
and  prudence,  are  not  one  jot  to  be  preferred  to 
the  history  of  Robin  Hood,  or  the  Seven  Wise 
Masters.  I  do  not  deny  but  history  is  very  use- 
ful, and  very  instructive  of  human  life  ;  but  if  it 
be  studied  only  for  the  reputation  of  being  a  his- 
torian, it  is  a  very  empty  thing  ;  and  he  that  can 
tell  all  the  particulars  of  Herodotus  and  Plutarch, 
Curtius  and  Livy,  without  making  any  other  use 
of  them,  may  be  an  ignorant  man  with  a  good 
memory,  arrd  with  all  his  pains  hath  only  filled 
his  head  with  Christmas  tales.  And,  which  is 
worse,  the  greatest  part  of  history  being  made  up 
of  wars  and  conquests,  and  their  style,  especially 
the  Romans,  speaking  of  valour  as  the  chief  if 
not  the  only  virtue,  we  are  iir  danger  to  be  misled 
by  the  general  current  and  business  of  history  ; 
and,  looking  on  Alexander  and  Csesar,  and  such- 
like heroes,  as  the  highest  instances  of  human 
greatness  because  they  each  of  them  caused  the 
death  of  several  hundred  thousand  men,  and  the 
ruin  of  a  much  greater  number,  overran  a  great 
part  of  the  earth,  and  killed  the  inhabitants  to 
possess  themselves  of  their  countries — we  are  apt 
to  make  butchery  and  rapine  the  chief  marks  and 
very  essence  of  human  greatness.  Arrd  if  civil 
history  be  a  great  dealer  of  it,  and  to  many  readers 
thus  useless,  curious  and  difficult  inquirirrgs  in 
antiquity  are  much  more  so  ;  and  the  exact  dimen- 
sions of  the  Colossus,  or  figure  of  the  Capitol,  the 
ceremonies  of  the  Greek  arrd  Roman  marriages, 
or  who  it  was  that  first  coirred  money  ;  these,  I 
confess,  set  a  man  well  off  irr  the  world,  especially 
amongst  the  learned,  but  set  him  very  little  on 
his  way.  .... 

I  shall  only  add  one  word,  and  then  conclude  ; 
and  that  is,  that  whereas  in  the  beginning  I  cut 
off  history  from  our  study  as  a  useless  part,  as 
certainly  it  is  where  it  is  read  only  as  a  tale  that 
is  told  ;  here,  on  the  other  side,  I  recommend  it  to 
one  who  hath  well  settled  irr  his  mind  the  prin- 
ciples of  morality,   and  knows   how  to  make  a 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


211 


judgment  on  the  actions  of  men,  as  one  of  the 
most  useful  studies  he  can  apply  himself  to. 
There  he  shall  see  a  picture  of  the  world  and  the 
nature  of  mankind,  and  soleam  to  think  of  men  as 
they  are.  There  he  shall  see  the  rise  of  opinions, 
and  find  from  what  slight  and  sometimes  shameful 
occasions  some  of  them  have  taken  rise,  which  yet 
afterwards  have  had  great  authority,  and  passed 
almost  for  sacred  in  the  world,  and  borne  down 
all  before  them.  There  also  one  may  learn  great 
and  useful  instructions  of  prudence,  and  be  warned 
against  the  cheats  and  rogueries  of  the  world,  with 
man}-  more  advantages  which  I  shall  not  here 
enumerate. 


ORTHODOXY  AND  HERESY. 

7TYE  are  indebted  to  John  Locke,  the  great 
\XJ  English  philosopher  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, for  these  observations  on  the  subjects  that 

1  were  so  greatly  agitating  this  country  during  the 

,  lifetime  of  the  writer  : 

The  great  division  among  Christians  is  about 
opinions.  Every  sect  has  its  set  of  them,  and  that 
is  called  Orthodoxy  ;  and  he  that  professes  his  as- 
sent to  them,  though  with  an  implicit  faith,  and 
without  examining,  is  orthodox,  and  in  the  way  to 
salvation.  But  if  he  examines,  and  thereupon 
questions  any  one  of  them,  he  is  presently  sus- 
pected of  heresy  ;  and  if  he  oppose  them  or  hold 
the  contrary,  he  is  presently  condemned  as  in  a 

i  damnable  error,  and  in  the  sure  way  to  perdition. 
Of  this  one  may  say,  that  there  is  nor  can  be  noth- 
ing more  wrong.  For  he  that  examines,  and 
upon  a  fair  examination  embraces  an  error  for  a 
truth,  has  done  his  duty  more  than  he  who  em- 

I  braces  the  profession  (for  the  truths  themselves  he 

'  does  not  embrace)  of  the  truth  without  having 
examined  whether  it  be  true  or  no.     And  he  that 

i  has  done  his  duty  according  to  the  best  of  his 
ability,  is  certainly  more  in  the  way  to  heaven 
than  he  who  has  done  nothing  of  it.  For  if  it  be 
our  duty  to  search  after  truth,  he  certainly  that 
has  searched  after  it,  though  he  has  not  found  it, 
in  some  points  has  paid  a  more  acceptable  obedi- 
ence to  the  will  of  his  Maker  than  he  that  has  not 
searched  at  all,  but  professes  to  have  found  truth, 
when  he  has  neither  searched  nor  found  it.  For 
he  that  takes  up  the  opinions  of  any  church  in  the 
lump,  without  examining  them,  has  truly  neither 
searched  after  nor  found  truth,  but  has  only  found 
those  that  he  thinks  have  found  truth,  and  so  re- 


ceives what  the)-  say  with  an  implicit  faith,  and 
so  pays  them  the  homage  that  is  due  only  to  God, 
who  cannot  be  deceived,  nor  deceive.  In  this  way 
the  several  churches  (in  which,  as  one  ma}-  ob- 
serve, opinions  are  preferred  to  life,  and  orthodoxy 
is  that  which  they  are  concerned  for,  and  not 
morals)  put  the  terms  of  salvation  on  that  which 
the  Author  of  our  salvation  does  not  put  them  in. 
The  believing  of  a  collection  of  certain  proposi- 
tions, which  are  called  and  esteemed  fundamental 
articles,  because  it  has  pleased  the  compilers  to 
put  them  into  their  confession  of  faith,  is  made 
the  condition  of  salvation. 


CURIOSITIES   OF  ANCIENT  COOKERY. 

CHE  elder  Pliny  tells  that  one  man  had  studied 
the  art  of  fattening  snails  with  paste  so  suc- 
cessfully, that  the  shells  of  some  of  his  snails 
would  contain  many  quarts.  The  same  monstrous 
taste  fed  up  those  prodigious  goose  livers  ;  a  taste 
stiil  prevailing  in  Italy.  Swine  were  fattened 
with  whey  and  figs  ;  and  even  fish  in  their  ponds 
were  increased  by  such  artificial  means.  Our 
prize  oxen  might  astonish  a  Roman,  as  much  as 
one  of  their  crammed  peacocks  would  ourselves. 
Glutton)-  produces  monsters,  and  turns  away  from 
nature  to  feed  on  unwholesome  meats.  The  flesh 
of  young  foxes  about  autumn,  when  they  fed  on 
grapes,  is  praised  by  Galen ;  and  Hippocrates 
equals  the  flesh  of  puppies  to  that  of  birds. 

These  cooks  of  the  ancients,  who  appear  to 
have  been  hired  for  a  grand  dinner,  carried  their 
art  to  the  most  whimsical  profession.  They  were 
so  dexterous  as  to  be  able  to  serve  up  a  whole  pig 
boiled  on  one  side  and  roasted  on  the  other.  The 
cook  who  performed  this  feat  defies  his  guests  to 
detect  the  place  where  the  knife  had  separated  the 
animal,  or  how  it  was  contrived  to  stuff  it  with 
an  olio,  composed  of  thrushes  and  other  birds, 
slices  of  pork,  the  yolk  of  eggs,  the  bodies  of 
hens  with  their  soft  eggs,  flavored  with  a  rich 
juice,  and  minced  meats  highly  spiced.  When 
this  cook  is  entreated  to  explain  this  secret  art, 
he  solemnly  swears  by  the  manes  of  those  who 
braved  all  the  dangers  of  the  Plain  of  Marathon, 
and  combated  at  sea  at  Salamis,  that  he  will  not 
reveal  the  secret  that  year.  But  of  an  incident, 
so  triumphant  in  the  annals  of  the  gastric  art,  our 
philosopher  would  not  deprive  posterity  of  the 
knowledge.  The  animal  had  been  bled  to  death 
by  a  wound  under  the  shoulder,  whence,  after  a 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


copious  effusion,  the  master-cook  extracted  the 
extrails,  washed  them  with  wine,  and  hanging  the 
animal  by  the  feet,  he  crammed  down  the  throat 
the  stuffings  already  prepared.  Then  covering 
the  half  of  the  pig  with  a  paste  of  barley  thick- 
ened with  wine  and  oil.  he  put  it  in  a  small  oven, 
or  on  a  heated  table  of  brass,  where  it  was  gently 
roasted  with  all  due  care  :  when  the  skin  was 
browned,  he  boiled  the  other  side  ;  and  then  tak- 
ing away  the  barley  paste,  the  pig  was  served  up, 
at  once  boiled  and  roasted.  These  cooks,  with  a 
vegetable,  could  counterfeit  the  shape  and  the 
taste  of  fish  and  flesh.  The  king  of  Bithynia,  in 
some  expedition  against  the  Scythians,  in  the 
winter  and  at  a  great  distance  from  the  sea,  had 
a  violent  longing  for  a  small  fish  called  aphy — a 
pilchard,  a  herring,  or  an  anchovy.  His  cook 
cut  a  turnip  to  the  perfect  imitation  of  its  shape  ; 
then  fried  in  oil,  salted,  and  well  powdered  with 
the  grains  of  a  dozen  black  poppies,  his  majesty's 
taste  was  so  exquisitely  deceived,  that  he  praised 
the  root  to  his  guests  as  an  excellent  fish.  This 
transmutation  of  vegetables  into  meat  or  fish  is  a 
province  of  the  culinary  art  which  we  appear  to 
have  lost. 


CURIOUS   FACTS  ABOUT   ANIMALS. 

I  SHALL  now  add  another  instance  of  the  wis- 
dom of  nature,  or  rather  the  God  of  nature, 
in  adapting  the  parts  of  the  same  animal  one  to 
another,  and  that  is  the  proportioning  the  length 
of  the  neck  to  that  of  the  legs.  For  seeing  terres- 
trial animals,  as  well  birds  as  quadrupeds,  are  en- 
dued with  legs,  upon  which  they  stand,  and 
wherewith  they  transfer  themselves  from  place  to 
place,  to  gather  their  food,  and  for  other  conve- 
niences of  life,  and  so  the  trunk  of  their  body 
must  needs  be  elevated  above  the  superficies  of  the 
earth,  so  that  they  could  not  conveniently  either 
gather  their  food  or  drink  if  they  wanted  a  neck, 
therefore  Nature  hath  not  only  furnished  them 
therewith,  but  with  such  a  one  as  is  commensu- 
rable to  their  legs,  except  here  the  elephant,  which 
hath  indeed  a  short  neck  (for  the  excessive  weight 
of  his  head  and  teeth,  which  to  a  long  neck  would 
have  been  unsupportable),  but  is  provided  with  a 
trunk,  wherewith,  as  with  a  hand,  he  takes  up  his 
food  and  drink,  and  brings  it  to  his  mouth.  I  say 
the  necks  of  birds  and  quadrupeds  are  commensu- 
rate to  their  legs,  so  that  they  which  have  long 
leers  have  long  necks,   and   they  that  have  short 


legs  short  ones,  as  is  seen  in  the  crocodile,  and  all 
lizards  ;  and  those  that  have  no  legs,  as  they  do 
not  want  necks,  so  neither  have  they  any,  as 
fishes.  This  equality  between  the  length  of  the 
legs  and  neck,  is  especially  seen  in  beasts  that 
feed  constantly  upon  grass,  whose  necks  and  legs 
are  always  very  near  equal  ;  very  near,  I  say,  be- 
cause the  neck  must  necessarily  have  some  advan- 
tage, in  that  it  cannot  hang  perpendicularly 
down,  but  must  incline  a  little.  Moreover,  be- 
cause this  sort  of  creatures  must  needs  hold  their 
heads  down  in  an  inclining  posture  for  a  consider- 
able time  together,  which  would  be  very  laborious 
and  painful  for  the  muscles ;  therefore  on  each 
side  the  ridge  of  the  vertebres  of  the  neck,  nature 
hath  placed  an  aponeurosis,  or  nervous  ligament 
of  a  great  thickness  and  strength,  apt  to  stretch 
and  shrink  again  as  need  requires,  and  void  of 
sense,  extending  from  the  head  ( to  which,  and 
the  next  vertebres  of  the  neck,  it  is  fastened  at 
that  end)  to  the  middle  vertebres  of  the  back  (to 
which  it  is  knit  at  the  other),  to  assist  them  to 
support  the  head  in  that  posture,  which  aponeu- 
rosis is  taken  notice  of  by  the  vulgar  by  the  name 
of  fixfax,  or  pack-wax,  or  whit  leather.  It  is 
also  very  observable  in  fowls  that  wade  in  the 
water,  which,  having  long  legs,  have  also  necks 
answerably  long.  Only  in  these  too  there  is  an 
exception,  exceedingly  worthy  to  be  noted  ;  for 
some  water-fowl,  which  are  palmipeds,  or  whole- 
footed,  have  very  long  necks,  and  yet  but  short 
legs,  as  swans  and  geese,  and  some  Indian  birds  ; 
wherein  we  may  observe  the  admirable  provinces 
of  nature.  For  such  birds  as  were  to  search  and 
gather  their  food,  whether  herbs  or  insects,  in 
the  bottom  of  pools  and  deep  waters,  have  long 
necks  for  that  purpose,  though  their  legs,  as  is 
most  convenient  for  swimming,  be  but  short. 
Whereas  there  are  no  land-fowl  to  be  seen  with 
short  legs  and  long  necks,  but  all  have  their 
necks  in  length  commensurate  to  their  legs.  This 
instance  is  the  more  considerable,  because  the 
atheists'  usual  flam  will  not  here  help  them  out. 
For,  say  they,  there  were  many  animals  of  dis- 
proportionate parts,  and  of  absurd  and  uncouth 
shapes,  produced  at  first,  in  the  infancy  of  the 
world  ;  but  because  they  could  not  gather  their 
food  or  perform  other  functions  necessary  to  main- 
tain life,  the>-  soon  perished,  and  were  lost  again. 
For  these  birds,  we  see,  can  gather  their  food 
upon  land  conveniently  enough,  notwithstanding 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


213 


the  length  of  their  necks;  for  example,  geese 
graze  upon  commons,  and  can  feed  themselves 
fat  upon  land.  Yet  is  there  not  one  land-bird 
which  hath  its  neck  thus  disproportionate  to  its 
legs ;  nor  one  water  one  neither,  but  such  as  are 
destined  by  nature  in  such  manner  as  we  have 
mentioned  to  search  and  gather  their  food  ;  for 
nature  makes  not  a  long  neck  to  no  purpose. — 
Jolni  Ray,  English  Naturalist. 


F« 


G RASMUS  gives  a  curious  account  of  English 
dirtiness,  during  the  fifteenth  century.  He  as- 
cribes the  plague  from  which  England  was  hardly 
ever  free,  and  the 
sweating  -sickness, 
partly  to  the  incom- 
modious form,  and 
bad  exposition  of  the 
houses,  to  the  filthi- 
ness  of  the  streets, 
and  to  the  sluttish- 
ness  within  doors. 
The  floors,  says  he. 
are  commonly  of  clay, 
strewed  with  rushes ; 
under  which  lies,  un- 
molested,  an   ancient 


Indians  had  many  vegetables  and  food  products 
that  were  unknown  before  the  discover}'  of  this 
continent ;  among  which  were  potatoes,  sweet 
potatoes,  corn,  tomatoes,  and  several  varieties  of 
beans,  now  common  articles  of  food  in  nearly 
all  the  temperate  regions  of  the  world.  To- 
bacco is  also  a  native  of  America  ;  and  the  tur- 
key, which  graces  our  Thanksgiving  and  Christ- 
mas tables,  and  furnishes  such  a  delicious  dish, 
was  unknown  to  the  Europeans  previous  to  the 
landing  of  Columbus.  All  these  the  Indians 
had  in  abundance.  They  also  made  themselves 
clothing,  not  only  of  the  skins  of  animals,  like  their 


collection  of  beer, 
grease,  fragments, 
bones,  spittle,  excre- 
ments of  dogs  and 
cats,  and  everything 
that  is  nasty. 

At  the  time  of  the 
discovery  of  America 
the  Indians  lived  in 
better  houses,  and 
were  better  fed  and 
clothed,  than  the  com- 
mon people  of  England.  The  latter  lived  in 
wretched  houses,  often  mere  burrows  in  the  ground, 
without  floors  or  windows  ;  while  their  clothing  was 
of  the  cheapest  and  coarsest  kind,  frequently  con- 
sisting of  nothing  more  than  the  skins  of  ani- 
mals. For  food  they  had  the  bare  necessaries 
of  life,  which  the}'  ate  with  their  hands,  with- 
out the  aid  of  dishes  or  table  cutlery.  Knives, 
forks  and  spoons  were  not  introduced  until  about 
the  date  of  Elizabeth's  reign.  Previous  to  that 
time  even  kings  and  the  nobility  prepared  their 
lood  with  their  hunting  or  sheath-knives.     The 


HOMES   OF   THE    COMMON    l'EOPLE   OF   ENGLAND   IX   1HE    FIFTEENTH    CENTURY. 

European  brothers,  but  of  cotton,  the  feathers  of 
birds,  the  bark  of  the  trees,  and  other  articles,  so 
that  the}'  were  frequently  attired  with  as  much 
grace  and  splendor  as  the  monarchs  of  the  Old 
countries. 


POWER  OF  THE  ANCIENT   POPES. 

Y ALOIS  observes  that  the  Popes  scrupulously 
followed,  in  the  early  ages  of  the  church, 
the  custom  of  placing  their  names  after  that  of 
the  person  whom  they  addressed  in  their  letters. 
This   mark   of  their  humilitv  he  shows  by  letters 


214 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


written  by  various  Popes.  But  as  their  temporal 
power  increased  they  became  less  meek.  Henry 
VI.  being  at  the  feet  of  Pope  Celestine,  his  holi- 
ness thought  proper  to  kick  the  crown  off  his 
head ;  which  ludicrous  and  disgraceful  action 
Baronius  has  highly  praised.  Jortin  observes  on 
this  great  cardinal,  an  advocate  of  the  Roman 
see.  that  he  breathes  nothing  but  fire  and  brim- 
stone ;  and  accounts  kings  and  emperors  to  be 
mere  catch-poles  and  constables,  bound  to  exe- 
cute with  implicit  faith  all  the  commands  of  in- 
solent ecclesiastics. 

It  was  Nicholas  I.,  a  bold  and  enterprising 
Pope,  who,  in  858,  forgetting  the  pious  modesty 
of  his  predecessors,  took  advantage  of  the  divi- 
sions in  the  royal  families  of  France,  and  did  not 
hesitate  to  place  his  name  before  that  of  the  kings 
and  emperors  to  whom  he  wrote.  Since  that 
time  he  has  been  imitated  by  all  his  successors, 
and  this  encroachment  on  the  honors  of  mon- 
archy has  passed  into  a  custom  from  having  been 
tolerated  in  its  commencement. 

Concerning  the  acknowledged  infallibility  of  the 
Popes  it  appears  that  Gregory  VII.,  in  council,  de- 
creed that  the  church  of  Rome  neither  had  erred 
and  never  should  err.  It  was  thus  this  preroga- 
tive of  his  holiness  became  received,  till  1313, 
when  John  XXII.  abrogated  decrees  made  by 
three  popes  his  predecessors,  and  declared  that 
what  was  done  amiss  by  one  pope  or  council 
might  be  corrected  by  another.  The  university  of 
Vienna  protested  against  this,  calling  it  a  con- 
tempt of  God,  and  an  idolatry,  if  any  one  in 
matters  of  faith  should  appeal  from  a  council  to 
the  Pope  :  that  is,  from  God  who  presides  in  coun- 
cils to  man.  But  the  infallibility  was  at  length 
established  by  Leo  X.,  especially  after  Luther's 
opposition,  because  they  despaired  of  defending 
their  indulgences,  bulls,  etc.,  by  any  other 
method. 

Imagination  cannot  form  a  scene  more  terrific 
that  when  these  men  were  in  the  height  of  power, 
and  to  serve  their  political  purposes  hurled  the 
thunders  of  their  excommunications  over  a  king- 
dom. It  was  a  national  distress  not  inferior  to  a 
plague  or  famine. 

Philip  Augustus,  desirous  of  divorcing  Ingel- 
burg,  to  unite  himself  to  Agues  de  Meranie,  the 
Pope  put  his  kingdom  under  an  interdict.  The 
churches  were  shut  during  the  space  of  eight 
months;  they  said  neither  mass  nor  vespers  ;  they 


did  not  marry ;  and  even  the  offspring  of  the 
married,  born  at  this  unhappy  period,  were  con- 
sidered as  illicit ;  and  because  the  king  would  not 
sleep  with  his  wife,  it  was  not  permitted  to  any 
of  his  subjects  to  sleep  with  theirs  !  In  that  year 
France  was  threatened  with  an  extinction  of  the 
ordinary  generation.  A  man  under  this  curse  of 
public  penance  was  divested  of  all  his  functions, 
civil,  military  and  matrimonial ;  he  was  not 
allowed  to  dress  his  hair,  to  shave,  to  bathe,  nor 
even  change  his  linen,  so  that,  says  Saint  Foix, 
upon  the  whole  this  made  a  filthy  penitent.  The 
good  king  Robert  incurred  the  censures  of  the 
church  for  having  married  his  cousin.  He  was 
immediately  abandoned.  Two  faithful  domestics 
alone  remained  with  him,  and  these  always 
passed  through  the  fire  whatever  he  touched.  In 
a  word,  the  horror  which  an  excommunication 
occasioned  was  such  that  a  woman  of  pleasure, 
with  whom  Peletier  had  passed  some  moments, 
having  learnt  soon  afterwards  that  he  had  been 
above  six  months  an  excommunicated  person, 
fell  into  a  panic,  and  with  great  difficult}'  recov- 
ered from  her  convulsions. 


CAPT.   SMITH'S    ACCOUNT    OF    HOW   HE   WAS 
RESCUED    BY    POCAHONTAS. 

CHE  following,  although  written  in  the  third 
person,  is  Capt.  John  Smith's  own  account 
of  his  famous  rescue  by  the  Indian  maiden,  Poca- 
hontas : 

At  last  they  brought  him  to  Meronoco  moco, 
where  was  Powhatan  their  emperor.  Here  more 
than  two  hundred  of  those  grim  courtiers  stood 
wondering  at  him  as  he  had  been  a  monster  :  till 
Powhatan  and  his  train  had  put  themselves  in 
their  greatest  braveries.  Before  a  fire,  upon  a 
seat  like  a  bedstead,  he  sat  covered  with  a  great 
robe,  made  of  Rarowcun  skins,  and  all  the  tails 
hanging  by.  On  either  hand  did  sit  a  young 
wench  of  sixteen  or  eighteen  years,  and  along  on 
each  side  of  the  house,  two  rows  of  men,  and 
behind  them  as  many  women,  with  all  their  heads 
and  shoulders  painted  red  :  many  of  their  heads 
bedecked  with  the  white  down  of  birds;  but 
even-  one  with  something  :  and  a  great  chain  of 
white  beads  about  their  necks.  At  his  entrance 
before  the  king,  all  the  people  gave  a  great  shout. 
The  queen  of  Appamatuck  was  appointed  to  bring 
him  water  to  wash  his  hands,  and  another  brought 
him  a  bunch  of  feathers,  instead  of  a  towel  to  dry 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


211 


them  :  having  feasted  him  after  their  best  barbar- 
ous manner  they  could,  a  long  consultation  was 
held,  but  the  conclusion  was,  two  great  stones 
were  brought  before  Powhatan  ;  then  as  man}-  as 
could  laid  hand  on  him,  dragged  him  to  them, 
and  thereon  laid  his  head,  and  being  ready  with 
their  clubs  to  beat  out  his  brains,  Pocahontas,  the 
king's  dearest  daughter,  when  no  entreat}-  could 
prevail,  got  his  head  in  her  arms,  and  laid  her 
own  upon  his  to  save  him  from  death  :  whereat 
the  emperor  was  contented  he  should  live  to  make 
him  hatchets,  and  her  bells,  beads,  and  copper : 
for  they  thought  him  as  well  of  all  occupations 
as  themselves.  For  the  king  himself  will  make 
his  own  robes,  shoes,  bows,  arrows,  pots  ;  plant, 
hunt,  or  do  anything  as  well  as  the  rest. 


HANGING   BY    PROXY. 

CHE  following  is  given  as  a  true  account  of  an 
incident  in  the  early  history  of  the  Plymouth 
colony  : 

A  young  man  was  arrested  for  stealing  corn 
from  an  Indian,  and  the  following  mode  of  deal- 
ing with  the  case  was  proposed  by  one  of  the 
general  assembly  of  the  community  called  to  ad- 
judge punishment.  Says  he:  "You  all  agree 
that  one  must  die,  and  one  shall  die.  This  young 
man's  clothes  we  will  take  off,  and  put  upon  one 
that  is  old  and  impotent  ;  a  sickly  person  that 
cannot  escape  death  ;  such  is  the  disease  on  him 
confirmed,  that  die  he  must.  Put  the  young 
man's  clothes  on  this  man,  and  let  the  sick  person 
be  hanged  in  the  other's  stead."  Amen,  says 
one,  and  so  says  many  more. 

This  method  of  disposing  of  criminals  was 
exceedingly  business-like  and  practical,  and  well 
worthy  of  our  ancient  Yankee  ancestors,  however 
inconvenient  it  may  have  been  to  the  unfortunate 
substitutes. 


SOME  CAUSTIC  CORRESPONDENCE  BETWEEN 
ROGER  WILLIAMS  AND  AN  ENGLISH  LADY. 

CHE  following  letters,  which  passed  between 
Roger  Williams,  famous  in  the  early  history 
of  our  country,  and  Mrs.  Annie  Sadleir,  daughter 
of  Sir  Edward  Coke,  will  be  read  with  interest. 
They  are  full  of  character  on  both  sides  :  the 
humor  of  them  consisting  in  the  lady  being  a 
royalist,  well  disposed  to  the  church  of  England 
establishment,  a  sharp-shooter  in  her  language  and 


a  bit  of  a  termagant,  while  Williams  was  prac- 
tising his  politest  graces  and  most  Christian  for- 
bearance, as  he  steadily  maintained  his  indepen- 
dent theology.  He  addresses  her,  "My  much- 
honored  friend,  Mrs.  Sadleir,"  and  tenders  her 
one  of  his  compositions  to  read,  probably  the  work 
he  had  just  published  in  England,  entitled  "Ex- 
periments of  Spiritual  Life  and  Health  and  their 
Preservatives,"  which  he  describes  as  "  a  plain  and 
peaceable  discourse,  of  my  own  personal  experi- 
ments, which,  in  a  letter  to  my  dear  wife — upon 
the  occasion  of  her  great  sickness  near  death — I 
sent  her,  being  absent  myself  among  the  Indians." 
He  courteously  invites  attention  and  even  censure. 
"  I  have  been  oft  glad,"  he  says,  "in  the  wilder- 
ness of  America  to  have  been  reproved  for  going 
in  a  wrong  path,  and  to  be  directed  by  a  naked 
Indian  boy  in  my  travels."  He  quietly  throws 
out  a  few  hints  of  the  virtues  of  his  own  position 
in  church  matters.  Mrs.  Sadleir  quotes  Scripture 
in  reply. 

Mr.  Williams, — Since  it  has  pleased  God  to 
make  the  prophet  David's  complaint  ours  (Ps. 
lxxxix.):  "O  God,  the  heathen,"  &c,  and  that 
the  apostle  St.  Peter  has  so  long  ago  foretold,  in 
his  second  epistle,  the  second  chapter,  by  whom 
these  things  should  be  occasioned,  I  have  given 
over  reading  many  books,  and,  therefore,  with 
thanks,  have  returned  yours.  Those  that  I  now 
read,  besides  the  Bible,  are,  first,  the  late  king's 
book  ;  Hooker's  Ecclesiastical  Polity  ;  Reverend 
Bishop  Andrew's  Sermons,  with  his  other  divine 
meditations  ;  Dr.  Jer.  Taylor's  works  ;  and  Dr. 
Tho.  Jackson  upon  the  Creed.  Some  of  these  my 
dear  father  was  a  great  admirer  of,  and  would 
often  call  them  the  glorious  lights  of  the  church 
of  England.  These  lights  shall  be  my  guide  ;  I 
wish  they  ma}-  be  yours  ;  for  your  new  lights  that 
are  so  much  cried  up,  I  believe,  in  the  conclusion, 
the}-  will  prove  but  dark  lanterns  ;  therefore  I 
dare  not  meddle  with  them. 

Your  friend  in  the  old  way, 

Anne  Sadleir. 
Which  little  repellant,  Williams,  feeling  the  sting, 
answers,  offering  another  book  : — 

My  much-honored,  kind  Friend,  Mrs.  Sad- 
leir,— My  humble  respects  premised  to  your 
much-honored  self,  and  Mr.  Sadleir,  humbly  wish- 
ing you  the  saving  knowledge  and  assurance  of 
that  life  which  is  eternal,  when  this  poor  minute's 
dream  is  over.      In  my  poor  span  of  time,  I  have 


216 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


been  oft  in  the  jaws  of  death,  sickening  at  sea, 
shipwrecked  on  shore,  in  danger  of  arrows,  swords 
and  bullets  :  and  yet,  methinks,  the  most  high 
and  most  holy  God  hath  reserved  me  for  some  ser- 
vice to  his  most  glorious  and  eternal  majesty. 

I  think,  sometimes,  in  this  common  shipwreck 
of  mankind,  wherein  we  all  are  either  floating  or 
sinking,  despairing  or  struggling  for  life,  why 
should  I  ever  faint  in  striving,  as  Paul  saith,  in 
hopes  to  save  myself,  to  save  others — to  call,  and 
cry,  and  ask,  what  hope  of  saving,  what  hope  of 
life,  and  of  the  eternal  shore  of  mercy  ?  Your  last 
letter,  my  honored  friend,  I  received  as  a  bitter 
sweeting — as  all,  that  is  under  the  sun,  is — sweet, 
in  that  I  hear  from  you,  and  that  you  continue 
striving  for  life  eternal  ;  bitter,  in  that  we  differ 
about  the  way,  in  the  midst  of  the  dangers  and 
the  distresses. 

For  the  scope  of  this  rejoinder,  if  it  please  the 
Most  High  to  direct  your  eye  to  a  glance  on  it, 
please  you  to  know,  that  at  my  last  being  in  Eng- 
land, I  wrote  a  discourse  entitled,  "The  Bloudy 
Tenent  of  Persecution  for  Cause  of  Conscience." 
I  bent  my  charge  against  Mr.  Cotton  especially, 
your  standard-bearer  of  New  England  ministers. 
That  discourse  he  since  answered,  and  calls 
his  book,  "  The  Bloody  Tenent  made  white  in  the 
Blood  of  the  Eamb. "  This  rejoinder  of  mine,  as 
I  humbly  hope,  unwashed  his  washings,  and 
proves  that  in  soul  matters  no  weapons  but  soul 
weapons  are  reaching  and  effectual. 

His  "  much-honored,  kind  friend  "  replies  : 

Sir  :  I  thank  God  my  blessed  parents  bred  me 
up  in  the  old  and  best  religion,  and  it  is  my  glory 
that  I  am  a  member  of  the  Church  of  England,  as 
it  was  when  all  the  reformed  churches  gave  her  the 
right  hand.  When  I  cast  mine  eye  upon  the  fron- 
tispiece of  your  book,  and  saw  it  entitled  "The 
Bloudy  Tenent,"  I  durst  not  adventure  to  look 
into  it,  for  fear  I  should  bring  into  my  memory 
the  much  blood  that  has  of  late  been  shed,  and 
which  I  would  fain  forget  ;  therefore  I  do,  with 
thanks,  return  it.  I  cannot  call  to  mind  any  blood 
shed  for  conscience  :  some  few  that  went  about  to 
make  a  rent  in  our  once  well-governed  church 
were  punished,  but  none  suffered  death.  But  this 
I  know,  that  since  it  has  been  left  to  every  man's 
conscience  to  fancy  what  religion  he  list,  there  has 
more  Christian  blood  been  shed  than  was  in  the  ten 
persecutions.  And  some  of  that  blood  will,  I  fear, 
cry  to  the  day  of  judgment.    But  you  know  what 


the  Scripture  says,  that  when  there  was  no  king 
in  Israel,  every  man  did  that  which  was  right  in 
his  own  eyes — but  what  became  of  that,  the  sacred 
story  will  tell  you. 

Thus  entreating  you  to  trouble  me  no  more  in 
this  kind,  and  wishing  you  a  good  journey  to  your 
charge  in  New  Providence,  I  rest 

Your  Friend,  in  the  Old  and  Best  Wav. 

Williams,  not  to  be  disconcerted,  triples  the 
length  of  his  response,  with  new  divisions  and 
Scripture  citations,  and  this  among  other  biting 
paragraphs  on  the  lady's  favorite  reading  : 

I  have  read  those  books  you  mention,  and  the 
king's  book,  which  commends  two  of  them,  Bp. 
Andrews's  and  Hooker's — yea,  and  a  third  also, 
Bp.  Eaud's  ;  and  as  for  the  king,  I  know  his  person, 
vicious,  a  swearer  from  his  youth,  and  an  oppres- 
sor and  persecutor  of  good  men  (to  say  nothing  of 
his  own  father),  and  the  blood  of  so  many  hun- 
dred thousands  English,  Irish,  Scotch,  French, 
lately  charged  upon  him.  Against  his  and  his 
blasphemous  father's  cruelties,  your  own  dear 
father,  and  many  precious  men,  shall  rise  up 
shortly  and  cry  for  vengeance. 

But  for  the  book  itself — if  it  be  his — and  theirs 
you  please  to  mention,  and  thousands  more,  not 
only  protestants  of  several  sects,  but  some  papists 
and  Jesuits  also — famous  for  worldly  repute,  &c. 
— I  have  found  them  sharp  and  witty,  plausible 
and  delightful,  devout  and  pathetical.  And  I 
have  been  amazed  to  see  the  whole  world  of  our 
forefathers,  wise  and  gallant,  wondering  after  the 
glory  of  the  Romish  learning  and  worship.  (Rev. 
xiii. )  But  amongst  them  all  whom  I  have  so 
diligently  read  and  heard,  how  few  express  the 
simplicity,  the  plainness,  the  meekness,  and  true 
humility  of  the  learning  of  the  Son  of  God. 

With  this  telling  postscript : — 

My  honored  friend,  since  you  please  not  to 
read  mine,  let  me  pray  leave  to  recpiest  your  read- 
ing of  one  book  of  your  own  authors.  I  mean 
the  "Liberty  of  Prophesying,"  penned  by  (so 
called)  Dr.  Jer.  Taylor.  In  the  which  is  excel- 
lently asserted  the  toleration  of  different  religions, 
yea,  in  a  respeel,  that  of  the  Papists  themselves, 
which  is  a  new  way  of  soul  freedom,  and  yet  is 
the  old  way  of  Christ  Jesus,  as  all  his  holy  Testa- 
ment declares. 

I  also  humbly  wish  that  you  may  please  to 
read  over  impartially  Mr.  Milton's  answer  to  the 
kind's  book. 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


2U 


Mrs.  Sadleir  waxes  indignant,  and  replies  more 
at  length — getting  personally  discourteous  and 
scandalous  on  John  Milton  : — 

Mr.  Williams  :  I  thought  my  first  letter 
would  have  given  you  so  much  satisfaction,  that, 
in,  that  kind,  I  should  never  have  heard  of  you 
any  more ;  but  it  seems  you  have  a  face  of  brass, 
so  thai  you  cannot  blush. 

For  Milton's  book,  that  you  desire  I  should 
read,  if  I  be  not  mistaken,  that  is  he  that  has 
wrote  a  book  of  the  lawfulness  of  divorce  ;  and, 
if  report  says  true,  he  had,  at  that  time,  two  or 
three  wives  living.  This,  perhaps,  were  good 
doctrine  in  Xew  England,  but  it  is  most  abomi- 
nable in  Old  England.  For  his  book  that  he 
wrote  against  the  late  king  that  you  would  have 
me  read,  you  should  have  taken  notice  of  God's 
judgment  upon  him,  who  stroke  him  with  blind- 
ness ;  and,  as  I  have  heard,  he  was  fain  to  have 
the  help  of  one  Andrew  Marvell,  or  else  he  could 
not  have  finished  that  most  accursed  libel.  God 
has  began  his  judgment  upon  him  here — his  pun- 
ishment will  be  hereafter  in  hell.  But  have  you 
seen  the  answer  to  it  ?  If  you  can  get  it,  I  assure 
you  it  is  worth  your  reading  . 

I  have  also  read  Taylor's  book  of  the  Liberty 
of  Prophesying  ;  though  it  please  not  me,  yet  I 
am  sure  it  does  you,  or  else  I  [know]*  you 
[would]*  not  have  wrote  to  me  to  have  read  it. 
I  say,  it  and  you  would  make  a  good  fire.  But 
have  you  seen  his  Divine  Institution  of  the  Office 
Ministerial  ?  I  assure  you  that  is  both  worth 
your  reading  and  practice.  Bishop  Laud's  book 
against  Fisher  I  have  read  long  since,  which,  if 
you  have  not  done,  let  me  tell  you  that  he  has 
deeply  wounded  the  Pope  ;  and,  I  believe,  how- 
soever he  be  slighted,  he  will  rise  a  saint,  when 
man}'  seeming  ones,  such  as  you  are,  will  rise 
devils. 

This  winds  up  the  correspondence.  Mrs.  Sad- 
leir, as  she  puts  it  aside,  for  publication  a  couple 
of  hundred  years  later,  writing  on  the  back  of 
Williams'  first  letter  :  ' '  This  Roger  Williams, 
when  he  was  a  youth,  would,  in  short  hand,  take 
sermons  and  speeches  in  the  Star  Chamber,  and 
present  them  to  my  dear  father.  He,  seeing  so 
hopeful  a  youth,  took  such  liking  to  him  that  he 
sent  him  into  Sutton's  Hospital,  and  he  was  the 
second  that  was  placed  there ;  full  little  did  he 

*  These  words  are  not  in  the  MS. 


think  that  he  would  have  proved  such  a  rebel  to 
God,  the  king,  and  the  country.  I  have  his 
letters,  that,  if  ever  he  has  the  face  to  return  into 
his  native  country,  Tyburn  ma}'  give  him  wel- 
come. ' ' 

For  which  scrap  of  biographical  information  in 
the  too  general  dearth  of  anecdote  respecting  a 
arood  and  great  man,  we  thank  her. 


COTTON    MATHER'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE 
WITCHES. 

/70TTON  MATHER,  the  great  New  England 
^V  divine,  was  a  firm  believer  in  witches,  and 
took  a  prominent  part  in  the  lamentable  and  dis- 
graceful persecutions  at  Salem.  He  was  a  volu- 
minous author  and,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  a 
learned  man,  for  learning  in  those  days  did  not 
banish  superstition  from  men's  minds.  In  the 
Massachusetts  Historical  Library  there  is  stored 
an  immense  manuscript  from  his  pen,  under  the 
title  of  ' '  Illustrations  from  the  Sacred  Scriptures. ' ' 
It  is  written  in  double  columns,  on  foolscap  paper, 
and  comprises  six  folic  volumes.  Its  magnitude, 
as  well  as  its  forgotten  theology,  have  bidden 
defiance,  for  centuries,  to  the  enterprise  of  pub- 
lishers ;  and  this  voluminous  work,  to  which  he 
devoted  so  much  time  and  devout  labor,  will 
doubtless  never  pass  through  the  press,  unless 
some  publisher  should  consider  it  worthy  of  seeing 
the  light  as  a  curiosity  of  past  ages.  In  the  same 
library  there  are  also  portions  of  his  "Diary," 
including  the  torn  leaf  from  which,  according  to 
his  earnest  declaration,  the  invisible  hand  of 
witches  plucked  a  fragment.  Mather  was  equally 
as  earnest  in  his  statement  of  this  incident  as 
Luther  was  in  asserting  that  he  saw  the  devil  in 
his  cell  and  frightened  him  away  by  hurling  his 
inkstand  at  him. 

The  following  extract  from  Mather's  writings, 
which  he  issued  under  the  title  of  ' '  An  Hor- 
tatory, and  Necessary  Address  to  a  Country  now 
Extraordinarily  Alarmed  by  the  Wrath  of  the 
Devil,"  will  afford  a  good  idea  of  the  absurd 
opinions  entertained  by  even  the  learned  in  those 
times : 

That  the  Devil  is  come  dozen  unto  us  with  great 
wrath,  we  find,  we  feel,  we  now  deplore.  In 
man}-  ways,  for  many  years,  hath  the  Devil  been 
assaying  to  extirpate  the  Kingdom  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  here.  New  England  may  complain  of  the 
Devil,  as  in  Psalm  exxix.  1,2:  Many  a  time  have 


518 


THE   WONDERFUL,. THE  CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


they  afflicted  me,  from  my  youth,  may  New  Eng- 
land now  say;  many  a  time  have  they  afflicted  me 
from  my  youth  ;  yet  they  have  not  prevailed  against 
me.  But  now  there  is  a  more  than  ordinary  afflic- 
tion, with  which  the  Devil  is  Galling  of  us:  and 
such  an  one  as  is  indeed  Unparallelable.  The 
things  confessed  by  Witches,  and  the  things  en- 
dured by  Others,  laid  together,  amount  unto  this 
account  of  our  Affliction.  The  Devil,  Exhibiting 
himself  ordinarily  as  a  small  Black  man,  has  de- 
coy'd  a  fearful  knot  of  proud,  forward,  ignorant, 
envious,  and  malicious  creatures,  to  list  them- 
selves in  his  horrid  Service,  by  entering  their 
Names  in  a  Book,  by  him  tendered  unto  them. 
These  Witches,  whereof  above  a  Score  have  now 
Confessed  and  shown  their  Deeds,  and  some  are 
now  tormented  by  the  Devils,  for  Confessing,  have 
met  in  Hellish  Rendezvous,  wherein  the  Confes- 
sors do  say,  they  have  had  their  diabolical  Sacra- 
ments, imitating  the  Baptism  and  the  Suffer  of 
our  Lord.  In  these  hellish  meetings,  these  Mon- 
sters have  associated  themselves  to  do  no  less  a 
thing  than,  To  destroy  the  Kingdom  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  in  these  farts  of  the  World ;  and  in 
order  hereunto,  First  they  each  of  them  have 
their  Spectres,  or  Devils,  commissioned  by  them 
and  representing  of  them,  to  be  the  Engines  of 
their  Malice.  By  these  wicked  Spectres,  they 
seize  poor  people  about  the  country,  with  various 
and  bloody  Torments ;  and  of  those  evidently 
Preternatural  torments  there  are  some  have  dy'd. 
They  have  bewitched  some,  even  so  far  as  to 
make  Self-destroyers :  and  others  are  in  many 
Towns  here  and  there  languishing  under  their 
Evil  hands.  The  people  thus  afflicted  are  miser- 
ably scratched,  and  bitten,  so  that  the  Marks  are 
most  visible  to  all  the  World,  but  the  causes 
utterly  invisible ;  and  the  same  Invisible  Furies 
do  most  visibly  stick  Pins  into  the  bodies  of  the 
Afflicted,  and  scale  them,  and  hideously  distort, 
and  disjoint  all  their  members,  besides  a  thousand 
other  sorts  of  Plague,  beyond  these  of  any  na- 
tural diseases  which  the}-  give  unto  them.  Yea, 
they  sometimes  drag  the  poor  people  out  of  their 
chambers,  and  carry  them  over  Trees  and  Hills, 
for  divers  miles  together.  A  large  part  of  the 
persons  tortured  by  these  Diabolical  Spectres,  are 
horribly  tempted  by  them,  sometimes  with  fair 
promises,  and  sometimes  with  hard  threatenings, 
but  always  with  felt  miseries,  to  sign  the  Devil's 
Laws  in  a  Spectral  Book  laid  before  them  ;  which 


two  or  three  of  these  poor  Sufferers,  being  by 
their  tiresome  sufferings  overcome  to  do,  they 
have  immediately  been  released  from  all  their 
miseries,  and  they  appeared  in  Spectre  then  to 
Torture  those  that  were  before  their  fellow-suffer- 
ers. The  Witches,  which  by  their  covenant  with 
the  Devil  are  become  Owners  of  Spectres,  are 
often-times  by  their  own  Spectres  required  and 
compelled  to  give  their  consent,  for  the  molesta- 
tion of  some,  which  they  had  no  mind  otherwise 
to  fall  upon :  and  cruel  depredations  are  then 
made  upon  the  Vicinage.  In  the  Prosecution  of 
these  Witchcrafts,  among  a  thousand  other  unac- 
countable things,  the  Spectres  have  an  odd  faculty 
of  cloathing  the  most  substantial  and  corporeal  In- 
struments of  Torture,  with  Invisibility,  while  the 
wounds  thereby  given  have  been  the  most  palpa- 
ble things  in  the  World ;  so  that  the  Sufferers  as- 
saulted with  Instruments  of  Iron,  wholly  unseen 
to  the  standers  by,  though,  to  their  cost,  seen  by 
themselves,  have,  upon  snatching,  wrested  the 
Instruments  out  of  the  Spectre's  hands,  and  every 
one  has  then  immediately  not  only  beheld,  but 
handled,  an  Iron  Instrument  taken  by  a  Devil 
from  a  Neighbour.  These  wicked  Spectres  have 
proceeded  so  far,  as  to  steal  several  quantities  of 
Money  from  divers  people,  part  of  which  Money 
has,  before  sufficient  Spectators,  been  dropt  out 
of  the  Air  into  the  Hands  of  the  Sufferers,  while 
the  Spectres  have  been  urging  them  to  subscribe 
their  Covenant  with  Death.  In  such  extravagant 
ways  have  these  Wretches  propounded  the  Dra- 
gooning of  as  many  as  they  can,  into  their  own 
Combination,  and  the  Destroying  of  others,  with 
lingering,  spreading,  deadly  diseases ;  till  our 
Country  should  at  last  become  too  hot  for  us. 
Among  the  Ghastly  Instances  of  the  success  which 
those  Blood}-  Witches  have  had,  we  have  seen 
even  some  of  their  own  Children,  so  dedicated 
unto  the  Devil,  that  in  their  Infancy,  it  is  found, 
the  Imps  have  sucked  them,  and  rendered  them 
Venomous  to  a  Prodigy.  We  have  also  seen  the 
Devil's  first  battries  upon  the  Town  where  the  first 
Church  of  our  Lord  in  this  Colony  was  gathered, 
produced  those  distractions,  which  have  almost 
ruin'd  the  Town.  We  have  seen,  likewise,  the 
Plague  reaching  afterwards  into  the  Towns  far 
and  near,  where  the  Houses  of  good  Men  have 
the  Devils  filling  of  them  with  terrible  vexa- 
tions ! 

This  is  the  descent,  which,  it  seems,  the  devil 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


219 


has  now  made  upon  us.  But  that  which  makes 
this  descent  the  more  formidable  is,  The  multitude 
and  quality  of  Persons  accused  of  an  interest  in 
this  Witchcraft,  by  the  Efficacy  of  the  Spectres 
which  take  their  name  and  shape  upon  them  ; 
causing  very  many  good  and  wise  men  to  fear, 
that  many  innocent,  yea,  and  some  virtuous  per- 
sons, are,  by  the  devils  in  this  matter,  imposed 
upon  ;  that  the  devils  have  obtain' d  the  power  to 
take  on  them  the  likeness  of  harmless  people,  and 
in  that  likeness  to  afflict  other  people,  and  be  so 
abused  by  Praestigious  Daemons,  that  upon  their 
look  or  touch,  the  afflicted  shall  be  oddly  affected. 
Arguments  from  the  Providence  of  God,  on  the 
one  side,  and  from  our  charity  towards  man  on 
the  other  side,  have  made  this  now  to  become  a 
most  agitated  Controversie  among  us.  There  is 
an  Agony  produced  in  the  Minds  of  Men,  lest  the 
Devil  should  sham  us  with  Devices,  of  perhaps  a 
finer  Thread,  than  was  ever  yet  practised  upon 
the  World.  The  whole  business  is  become  here- 
upon so  Snarled,  and  the  determination  of  the 
Question  one  way  or  another,  so  dismal,  that  our 
Honourable  Judges  have  a  Room  for  JehosaphaC s 
Exclamation,  We  know  not  what  to  do!  They 
have  used,  as  Judges  have  heretofore  done,  the 
Spectral  Evidences,  to  introduce  their  further  En- 
quiries into  the  Lives  of  the  persons  accused  ;  and 
they  have  thereupon,  by  the  wonderful  Provi- 
dence of  God,  been  so  strengthened  with  other 
evidences,  that  some  of  the  Witch  Gang  have  been 
fairly  Executed.  But  what  shall  be  done  as  to 
those  against  whom  the  evidence  is  chiefly  founded 
in  the  dark  world?  Here  they  do  solemnly  de- 
mand our  Addresses  to  the  Father  of  Lights,  on 
their  behalf.  But  in  the  mean  time,  the  Devil 
improves  the  Darkness  of  this  Affair,  to  push  us 
into  a  Blind  Man' s  Buffet,  and  we  are  even  ready 
to  be  sinfully,  yea,  hotly  and  madly,  mauling  one 
another  in  the  dark. 

People  of  these  modern  times  will  naturally 
conclude  that  no  man  in  his  right  mind  could 
compose  such  stuff  as  the  foregoing,  and  yet 
these  sentiments  were  in  full  accord  with  the 
belief  of  the  people  of  this  country  two  hun- 
dred years  ago.  It  is  a  sad  commentary  upon 
our  race.  Will  the  people  two  hundred  years 
hence  laugh  at  our  follies  as  we  do  now  at  the 
follies  of  Mather  and  his  simple-hearted  contem- 
poraries ? 


EARLY  DAYS  IN  NEW  ENGLAND. 

ONE  of  the  most  touching  memorials  of  early 
life  in  New  England,  and  the  hardships  to 
which  the  pioneers  were  subjected,  is  found  in 
the  narrative  of  Capt.  Roger  Clap,  of  Dorchester, 
which  he  prepared  for  the  benefit  of  his  children. 
Capt.  Clap  settled  at  Dorchester,  Mass.,  in  1630, 
served  in  the  Pequot  war,  and  died  in  1691.  The 
following  passage  from  his  narrative  will  be  read 
with  interest : 

In  those  days  God  did  cause  his  people  to  trust 
in  him,  and  to  be  contented  with  mean  things. 
It  was  not  accounted  a  strange  thing  in  those  days 
to  drink  water  and  to  eat  samp  or  hominy  with- 
out butter  or  milk.  Indeed  it  would  have  been  a 
strange  thing  to  see  a  piece  of  roast  beef,  mutton, 
or  veal ;  though  it  was  not  long  before  there  was 
roast  goat.  After  the  first  winter,  we  were  very 
healthy  ;  though  some  of  us  had  no  great  store 
of  corn.  The  Indians  did  sometimes  bring  corn, 
and  truck  with  us  for  clothing  and  knives  ;  and 
once  I  had  a  peck  of  corn  or  thereabouts  for  a 
little  puppy-dog.  Frost  fish,  muscles,  and  clams 
were  a  relief  to  many.  If  our  provision  be  better 
now  than  it  was  then,  let  us  not  (and  do  you, 
dear  children,  take  heed  that  you  do  not)  forget 
the  Lord  our  God.  You  have  better  food  and 
raiment  than  was  in  former  times,  but  have  you 
better  hearts  than  your  forefathers  had  ?  If  so, 
rejoice  in  that  mercy,  and  let  New  England  then 
shout  for  joy.  Sure  all  the  people  of  God  in 
other  parts  of  the  world,  that  shall  hear  that  the 
children  and  grandchildren  of  the  first  planters 
of  New  England  have  better  hearts,  and  are  more 
heavenly  than  their  predecessors ;  they  will  doubt- 
less greatly  rejoice,  and  will  say,  This  is  the 
generation  whom  the  Lord  hath  blessed. 


DR.  MATHER'S  REMARKABLE  ACCOUNT  OF 
THE  TARANTULA. 

AMONG  Dr.  Mather's  other  works,  was  one 
which  he  published  under  the  title  of  "The 
Christian  Philosopher, ' '  and  in  which  he  evidently 
intended  to  embrace  all  the  knowledge  of  the  uni- 
verse. But  his  "knowledge"  was  of  a  peculiar 
sort,  as  will  be  seen  by  his  description  of  the 
tarantula : 

What  amazing  effects,  he  remarks,  follow  on 
the  bite  of  the  tarantula !  the  patient  is  taken 
with    an    extreme    difficulty   of    breathing,    and 


220 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


heavy  anguish  of  heart,  a  dismal  sadness  of  mind, 
a  voice  querulous  and  sorrowful,  and  his  eyes 
very  much  disturbed.  When  the  violent  symp- 
toms which  appear  on  the  first  day  are  over,  a 
continual  melancholy  hangs  about  the  person,  till 
by  dancing  or  singing,  or  change  of  air,  the  poi- 
sonous impressions  are  extirpated  from  the  blood, 
and  the  fluid  of  the  nerves ;  but  this  is  a  happi- 
ness that  rarely  happens;  nay,  Baglivi,  this 
wicked  spider's  countryman,  says,  there  is  no 
expectation  of  ever  being  perfectly  cured.  Many 
of  the  poisoned  are  never  well  but  among  the 
graves,  and  in  solitary  places ;  and  the}-  lay  them- 
selves along  upon  a  bier  as  if  the)-  themselves 
were  dead :  like  people  in  despair,  they  will  throw 
themselves  into  a  pit ;  women,  otherwise  chaste 
enough,  cast  away  all  modest}-,  and  throw  them- 
selves into  every  indecent  posture.  There  are 
some  colors  agreeable  to  them,  others  offensive, 
especially  black ;  and  if  the  attendants  have  their 
clothes  of  ungrateful  colors,  the}-  must  retire  out 
of  their  sight.  The  music  with  the  dancing 
which  must  be  employed  for  their  cure,  continues 
three  or  four  days ;  in  this  vigorous  exercise  they 
sigh,  they  are  full  of  complaints ;  like  persons  in 
drink,  they  almost  lose  the  right  use  of  their 
understanding  ;  they  distinguish  not  their  very- 
parents  from  others  in  their  treating  of  them,  and 
scarce  remember  anything  that  is  past.  Some 
during  this  exercise  are  much  pleased  with  green 
boughs  of  reeds  or  vines,  and  wave  them  with 
their  hands  in  the  air,  or  dip  them  in  the  water, 
or  bind  them  about  their  face  or  neck  ;  others  love 
to  handle  red  cloths  or  naked  swords.  And  there 
are  those  who,  upon  a  little  intermission  of  the 
dancing,  fall  a  digging  of  holes  in  the  ground, 
which  they  fill  with  water,  and  then  take  a 
strange  satisfaction  in  rolling  there.  When  they 
begin  to  dance,  they  call  for  swords  and  act  like 
fencers  ;  sometimes  they  are  for  a  looking-glass, 
but  then  they  fetch  many  a  deep  sigh  at  behold- 
ing themselves.  Their  fancy  sometimes  leads 
them  to  rich  clothes,  to  necklaces,  to  fineries  and 
a  variety  of  ornaments ;  and  they  are  highly 
courteous  to  the  bystanders  that  will  gratify  them 
with  any  of  these  things  ;  the}-  la}'  them  very 
orderly  about  the  place  where  the  exercise  is  pur- 
sued, and  in  dancing  please  themselves  with  one 
or  other  of  these  things  by  turns,  as  their  troubled 
imagination  directs  them. 

How  miserable  would  be  the  condition  of  man- 


kind if  these  animals  were  common  in  every 
country  !  But  our  compassionate  God  has  con- 
fined them  to  one  little  corner  of  Italy ;  they  are 
existing  elsewhere,  but  nowhere  thus  venomous, 
except  in  Apulia.  My  God,  I  glorify  thy  com- 
passion to  sinful  mankind  in  thy  restraints  upon 
the  poisons  of  the  tarantula. 

What  a  simple,  credulous  soul  the  good  doctor 
was  !  But  a  little  later  on,  in  connection  with 
the  Salem  witchcraft  persecution,  we  shall  find 
that  his  simplicity  and  credulity  led  him  to  sanc- 
tion and  personally  encourage  the  most  horrible 
cruelties  and  persecutions  in  the  holy  name  of 
reliarion  ! 


REV.  JOHN  WILLIAMS'  ACCOUNT  OF  THE 
CAPTURE  OF  HIMSELF  AND  FAMILY  BY 
THE  INDIANS. 

DEARLY  all  of  our  leading  histories  contain 
accounts  of  the  Indian  massacre  at  Deerfield, 
Mass.,  on  the  29th  of  February,  1704,  but  we 
believe  none  of  them  embrace  the  graphic  story 
of  this  event,  written  by  Rev.  John  Williams, 
who,  with  his  entire  family,  was  captured  on  that 
occasion  and  taken  to  Canada. 

Mr.  Williams  was  the  first  minister  of  Deerfield, 
locating  there  in  16S6.  The  post  was  an  ex- 
tremely dangerous  one  at  that  time,  and 'for  some 
years  afterward,  on  account  of  its  exposed  position 
to  attack  from  the  Indians  engaged  in  King  Philip's 
war.  Attacks  were  made  by  them  from  time  to 
time,  until  the  final  one  in  February,  1704,  when 
the  place  was  captured,  destroyed  by  fire,  some 
thirty-eight  of  the  townspeople  slain,  and  about 
one  hundred  carried  into  captivity,  among  whom 
were  Mr.  Williams,  his  wife  (who  was  murdered 
on  the  route)  and  children.  The}-  were  marched 
through  the  wilderness  to  Montreal,  where  they 
arrived  about  the  end  of  March.  They  remained 
in  Canada  until  October  25,  1706,  when  fifty-seven 
were  removed  in  a  vessel  to  Boston,  where  they 
arrived  on  the  21st  of  November  following. 
A  portion  of  the  remainder  had  fallen  from 
fatigue  or  violence  on  the  march,  or  died  dur- 
ing their  captivity,  and  some  preferred  to  re- 
main with  their  Indian  captors.  Williams,  with 
two  of  his  children,  returned,  and  in  the  March  fol- 
lowing published  his  work  on  his  captivity,  one 
of  the  most  interesting  productions  in  our  early 
literature.  We  present  a  passage  from  his  record 
of  the  painful  and  perilous  journey  : — 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


99 


21 


We  travelled  not  far  the  first  day  ;  God  made 
the  heathen  so  to  pit}-  our  children,  that  though 
they  had  several  wounded  persons  of  their  own 
to  carry  upon  their  shoulders,  for  thirty  miles, 
before  they  came  to  the  river,  yet  they  carried  our 
children,  incapable  of  travelling,  in  their  arms, 
and  upon  their  shoulders.  When  we  came  to  our 
lodging  place,  the  first  night,  they  dug  away  the 
snow,  and  made  some  wigwams,  cut  down  some 
small  branches  of  the  spruce  tree  to  lie  down  on, 
and  gave  the  prisoners  somewhat  to  eat  ;  but  we 
had  but  little  appetite.  I  was  pinioned  and  bound 
down  that  night,  and  so  I  was  every  night  whilst 
I  was  with  the  army.  Some  of  the  enemy  who 
brought  drink  with  them  from  the  town  fell  to 
drinking,  and  in  their  drunken  fit  they  killed  my 
negro  man,  the  only  dead  person  I  either  saw  at 
the  town,  or  in  the  way. 

In  the  night  an  Englishman  made  his  escape ; 
in  the  morning  (March  i),  I  was  called  for,  and 
ordered  by  the  general  to  tell  the  English,  that  if 
any  more  made  their  escape,  they  would  bum  the 
rest  of  the  prisoners.  He  that  took  me  was  un- 
willing to  let  me  speak  with  any  of  the  prisoners, 
as  we  marched  ;  but  on  the  morning  of  the  second 
day,  he  being  appointed  to  guard  the  rear,  I  was 
put  into  the  hands  of  my  other  master,  who  per- 
mitted me  to  speak  to  my  wife,  when  I  overtook 
her,  and  to  walk  with  her  to  help  her  in  her  jour- 
ney. On  the  way,  we  discoursed  of  the  happi- 
ness of  those  who  had  a  right  to  an  house  not 
made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens  ;  and 
God  for  a  father  and  friend  ;  as  also,  that  it  was 
our  reasonable  duty  quietly-  to  submit  to  the  will 
of  God,  and  to  say,  "The  will  of  the  Lord  be 
done."  My  wife  told  me  her  strength  of  body- 
began  to  fail,  and  that  I  must  expect  to  part  with 
her  ;  saying,  she  hoped  God  would  preserve  my 
life,  and  the  life  of  some,  if  not  of  all  our  children 
with  us ;  and  commended  to  me,  under  God,  the 
care  of  them.  She  never  spake  any  discontented 
word  as  to  what  had  befallen  us,  but  with  suitable 
expressions  justified  God  in  what  had  happened. 
We  soon  made  a  halt,  in  which  time  my  chief 
surviving  master  came  up,  upon  which  I  was  put 
upon  marching  with  the  foremost,  and  so  made 
my  last  farewell  of  my  dear  wife,  the  desire  of  my 
eyes,  and  companion  in  many  mercies  and  afflic- 
tions. Upon  our  separation,  we  asked  for  each 
other  grace  sufficient  for  what  God  should  call 
us  to. 


After  our  being  parted  from  one  another,  she 
spent  the  few  remaining  minutes  of  her  stay  in 
reading  the  Holy  Scriptures  ;  which  she  was  wont 
personally  everyr  day  to  delight  her  soul  in  read- 
ing, praying,  meditating  on,  by  herself,  in  her 
closet,  over  and  above  what  she  heard  out  of 
them  in  our  family  worship.  I  was  made  to  wade 
over  a  small  river,  and  so  were  all  the  English, 
the  water  above  knee  deep,  the  stream  very  swift ; 
and  after  that  to  travel  up  a  small  mountain  ;  my 
strength  was  almost  spent,  before  I  came  to  the 
top  of  it.  No  sooner  had  I  overcome  the  diffi- 
culty of  that  ascent,  but  I  w-as  permitted  to  sit 
down,  and  be  unburdened  of  my  pack.  I  sat 
pitying  those  who  were  behind,  and  entreated  my 
master  to  let  me  go  down  and  help  my  wife  ;  but 
he  refused,  and  would  not  let  me  stir  from  him.  I 
asked  each  of  the  prisoners  (as  they  passed  by 
me)  after  her,  and  heard  that,  passing  through 
the  above-said  river,  she  fell  down,  and  was 
plunged  over  head  and  ears  in  the  water ;  after 
which  she  travelled  not  far,  for  at  the  foot  of  that 
mountain,  the  cruel  and  blood-thirsty  savage  who 
took  her  slew  her  with  his  hatchet  at  one  stroke, 
the  tidings  of  which  were  very  awful.  And  yet 
such  was  the  hard-heartedness  of  the'  adversary, 
that  my  tears  were  reckoned  to  me  as  a  reproach. 
My  loss  and  the  loss  of  my  children  was  g^eat ; 
our  hearts  were  so  filled  with  sorrow,  that  nothing 
but  the  comfortable  hopes  of  her  being  taken 
away,  in  mercy  to  herself,  from  the  evils  we  were 
to  see,  feel,  and  suffer  under,  (and  joined  to  the 
assembly-  of  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect, 
to  rest  in  peace,  and  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of 
glory,  and  the  good  pleasure  of  God  thus  to  ex- 
ercise us,  )  could  have  kept  us  from  sinking  under, 
at  that  time.  That  Scripture,  Job  i.  21,  "  Naked 
came  I  out  of  my  mother's  womb,  and  naked 
shall  I  return  thither:  the  Lord  gave,  and  the 
Lord  hath  taken  away- ;  blessed  be  the  name  of 
the  Lord," — was  brought  to  my  mind,  and  from 
it,  that  an  afflicting  God  was  to  be  glorified  ;  with 
some  other  places  of  Scripture,  to  persuade  to  a 
patient  bearing  myr  afflictions. 

We  were  again  called  upon  to  march,  with  a  far 
heavier  burden  on  my  spirits  than  on  my  back. 
I  begged  of  God  to  overrule,  in  his  province,  that 
the  corpse  of  one  so  dear  to  me,  and  of  one  whose 
spirit  he  had  taken  to  dwell  witli  him  in  glory, 
might  meet  with  a  Christian  burial,  and  not  be 
left  for  meat  to  the  fowls  of  the  air  and  beasts  of 


999 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


the  earth,  a  mercy  that  God  graciously  vouch- 
safed to  grant.  For  God  put  it  into  the  hearts  of 
my  neighbours,  to  come  out  as  far  as  she  lay,  to 
take  up  her  corpse,  carry  it  to  the  town,  and  de- 
cently to  bury  it  soon  after.  In  our  march  they 
killed  a  sucking  infant  of  one  of  my  neighbours  ; 
and  before  night  a  girl  of  about  eleven  years  of 
age.  I  was  made  to  mourn,  at  the  consideration 
of  my  flock  being,  so  far,  a  flock  of  slaughter, 
main-  being  slain  in  the  town,  and  so  many  mur- 
dered in  so  few  miles  from  the  town ;  and  from 
fear  what  we  must  yet  expect,  from  such  who  de- 
lightfully imbrued  their  hands  in  the  blood  of  so 
many  of  His  people.  When  we  came  to  our 
lodging  place,  an  Indian  captain  from  the  east- 
ward spake  to  my  master  about  killing  me,  and 
taking  off  my  scalp.  I  lifted  up  my  heart  to 
God,  to  implore  his  grace  and  mercy  in  such  a 
time  of  need ;  and  afterwards  I  told  my  master, 
if  he  intended  to  kill  me,  I  desired  he  would  let 
me  know  of  it ;  assuring  him  that  my  death,  after 
a  promise  of  quarter,  would  bring  the  guilt  of 
blood  upon  him.  He  told  me  he  would  not  kill 
me.  We  laid  down  and  slept,  for  God  sustained 
and  kept  us. 


ABOUT  BEARS. 

IN  the  early  settlement  of  our  country  bear  meat 
was  both  a  luxury  and  a  staple  article  of  food. 
The  few  old  pioneers,  still  living,  who  ate  it  in 
their  younger  days,  refer  to  it  with  a  relish  and  ap- 
proval that  are  unmistakable.  We  copy  the  follow- 
ing description  of  Bruin,  who  eats  and  is  eaten, 
from  the  journal  of  Colonel  William  Byrd,  written 
in  172S : 

"  Our  Indian  killed  a  bear,  two  years  old,  that 
was  feasting  on  grapes.  He  was  very  fat,  as  they 
generally  are  in  that  season  of  the  year.  In  the 
fall,  the  flesh  of  this  animal  has  a  high  relish, 
different  from  that  of  any  other  creatures,  though 
inclining  nearest  to  that  of  pork,  or  rather  of  wild 
boar.  A  true  woodsman  prefers  this  sort  of  meat 
to  that  of  the  fattest  venison,  not  only  for  the  hant 
gout,  but  also  because  the  fat  of  it  is  well  tasted, 
and  never  rises  in  the  stomach.  Another  proof 
of  the  goodness  of  this  meat  is,  that  it  is  less  apt 
to  corrupt  than  any  other  with  which  we  are  ac- 
quainted. As  agreeable  as  such  rich  diet  was  to 
the  men,  yet  we  who  were  not  accustomed  to  it, 
tasted  it  at  first  with  some  sort  of  sqeamishness, 
that  animal  being  of  the  dog  kind  ;  though  a  little 


use  soon  reconciled  us  to  this  American  venison. 
And  that  its  being  of  the  dog  kind  might  give  us 
the  less  disgust,  we  had  the  example  of  that  an- 
cient and  polite  people,  the  Chinese,  who  reckon 
dog's  flesh  too  good  for  any  under  the  quality  of  a 
mandarin.  This  beast  is  in  truth  a  very  clean 
feeder,  living,  while  the  season  lasts,  upon  acorns, 
chestnuts  and  chinquapins,  wild  honey  and  wild 
grapes.  They  are  naturally  not  carnivorous,  un- 
less hunger  constrain  them  to  it,  after  the  mast  is 
all  gone,  and  the  product  of  the  woods  quite  ex- 
hausted. They  are  not  provident  enough  to  lay 
up  any  hoard,  like  the  squirrels,  nor  can  the}-,  after 
all,  live  very  long  upon  licking  their  paws,  as  Sir 
John  Mandeville  and  some  other  travellers 
tell  us,  but  are  forced  in  the  winter  months  to 
quit  the  mountains,  and  visit  the  inhabitants. 
Their  errand  is  then  to  surprise  a  poor  hog  at  a 
pinch  to  keep  them  from  starving.  And  to  show 
that  they  are  not  flesh-eaters  by  trade,  the}-  de- 
vour their  prey  very  awkwardly.  They  do  not 
kill  it  right  out,  and  feast  upon  its  blood  and  en- 
trails, like  other  ravenous  beasts,  but  having, 
after  a  fair  pursuit,  seized  it  with  their  paws,  they 
begin  first  upon  the  rump,  and  so  devour  one  col- 
lop  after  another,  till  they  come  to  the  vitals,  the 
poor  animal  crying  all  the  while,  for  several  min- 
utes together.  However,  in  so  doing,  Bruin  acts 
a  little  imprudently,  because  the  dismal  outcry  of 
the  hog  alarms  the  neighbourhood,  and  it  is  odds 
but  he  pays  the  forfeit  with  his  life,  before  he  can 
secure  his  retreat.  But  bears  soon  grow  weary 
of  this  unnatural  diet,  and  about  January,  when 
there  is  nothing  to  be  gotten  in  the  woods,  they 
retire  into  some  cave  or  hollow  tree,  where  they 
sleep  away  two  or  three  mouths  very  comfortably. 
But  then  they  quit  their  holes  in  March,  when 
the  fish  begin  to  run  up  the  rivers,  on  which  they 
are  forced  to  keep  Lent,  till  some  fruit  or  berry 
comes  in  season.  But  bears  are  fondest  of  chest- 
nuts, which  grow  plentifully  towards  the  moun- 
tains, upon  very  large  trees,  where  the  soil 
happens  to  be  rich.  We  were  curious  to  know 
how  it  happened  that  man}-  of  the  outward 
branches  of  those  trees  came  to  be  broken  off  in 
that  solitary  place,  and  were  informed  that  the 
bears  are  so  discreet  as  not  to  trust  their  unwieldy 
bodies  on  the  smaller  limbs  of  the  trees,  that 
would  not  bear  their  weight ;  but  after  venturing 
as  far  as  is  safe,  which  they  can  judge  to  an  inch, 
they  bite  off  the  end  of  the  branch,  which  falling 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


22^ 


down,  they  are  content  to  finish  their  repast  upon 
the  ground.  In  the  same  cautious  manner  they 
secure  the  acorns  that  grow  on  the  weaker  limbs 
of  the  oak.  And  it  must  be  allowed  that,  in 
these  instances,  a  bear  carries  instinct  a  great  wajr, 
and  acts  more  reasonably  than  many  of  his 
betters,  who  indiscreetly  venture  upon  frail  pro- 
jects that  will  not  bear  them.'' 


to  be  alone,  walking  in  the  fields  and  groves,  and 
seems  to  have  some  one  invisible  always  conver- 
sing with  her. 


JONATHAN   EDWARDS'   DESCRIPTION    OF  HIS 
WIFE. 

REV.  JONATHAN  EDWARDS,  the  famous 
New  England  divme,  was  a  man  of  ardent 
affections,  which,  however,  were  tempered  and 
subdued  as  he  advanced  in  life  by  his  austere  re- 
ligious views.  He  was  married,  at  the  age  of 
twenty-three,  to  Miss  Sarah  Pierrepont,  a  young 
lady  of  eighteen,  and  of  unusual  beauty.  His 
description  of  her,  written  a  short  time  previous 
to  their  marriage,  is  poetic  in  the  extreme,  and 
appears  like  the  unconscious  admiration  of  the 
lover  in  the  saint. 

"They  say,"  he  writes,  "there  is  a  young 
l_tdy  in  New  Haven  who  is  beloved  of  that  Great 
Being,  who  made  and  rules  the  world,  and  that 
there  are  certain  seasons  in  which  this  Great  Being, 
in  some  way  or  other  invisible,  comes  to  her  and 
fills  her  mind  with  exceeding  sweet  delight,  and 
that  she  hardly  cares  for  anything,  except  to 
meditate  on  him — that  she  expects,  after  a  while, 
to  be  received  up  where  he  is,  to  be  raised  up  out 
of  the  world  and  caught  up  into  heaven  ;  being 
assured  that  he  loves  her  too  well  to  let  her  re- 
main at  a  distance  from  him  always.  There  she 
is  to  dwell  with  him,  and  to  be  ravished  with  his 
love  and  delight  for  ever.  Therefore,  if  you  pre- 
sent all  the  world  before  her,  with  the  richest  of 
its  treasures,  she  disregards  it  and  cares  not  for  it, 
and  is  unmindful  of  an}-  pain  or  affliction.  She 
has  a  strange  sweetness  in  her  mind,  and  singular 
purity  in  her  affections  ;  is  most  just  and  conscien- 
tious in  all  her  conduct ;  and  you  could  not  per- 
suade her  to  do  airything  wrong  or  sinful,  if  you 
would  give  her  all  the  world,  lest  she  should  of- 
fend this  Great  Being.  She  is  of  a  wonderful 
sweetness,  calmness,  and  universal  benevolence 
of  mind ;  especially  after  this  Great  God  has 
manifested  himself  to  her  mind.  She  will  some- 
times go  about  from  place  to  place,  singing 
sweetly,  and  seems  to  be  always  full  of  joy  and 
pleasure,  and  no  one  knows  for  what.     She  loves 


PERSONAL    PECULIARITIES    OF    THE    GREAT 
NAPOLEON. 

nAPOEEON,  we  are  told,  was  dressed  every 
morning  by  the  valet  in  attendance.  He 
did  not  don  a  single  garment  himself;  eventually, 
however,  he  was  induced  to  shave  himself.  It 
happened  in  this  wise:  In  1803  the  head  valet 
Hambard,  pleaded  ill  health  as  an  excuse  for  not 
accompanying  his  master  to  Boulogne.  "Who 
is  to  shave  me?"  asked  Napoleon,  for  Hambard 
had  regularly  discharged  this  duty. 

Hambard  suggested  Constant,  who,  foreseeing 
this  emergency,  had  been  diligently  taking  les- 
sons on  humbler  chins,  and  had  acquired  profi- 
ciency. He  had  no  easy  task,  for  Napoleon, 
while  undergoing  the  operation,  would  talk,  read 
the  newspapers,  and  fidget  in  his  chair,  sometimes 
sitting  as  stiff  as  a  statue  and  declining  to  bend 
his  head  an  inch.  Great  care  was  necessary  to 
avoid  cutting  his  face.  Another  peculiarity  was 
that  he  insisted  on  one  side  being  lathered  and 
shaved  before  the  other  was  touched.  When  Con- 
stant got  free  enough  with  him  to  venture  on  the 
step,  he  urged  on  Napoleon  the  desirability  of  his 
learning  to  shave,  as  he  himself  might  be  ill  or 
absent,  and  Napoleon  would  not  like  to  be  ope- 
rated on  by  a  stranger. 

Napoleon  was,  with  some  difficulty,  induced  to 
try-  the  experiment,  but,  of  course,  he  experi- 
mented only  on  himself,  and  did  not,  therefore, 
acquire  professional  proficiency.  Very  clumsy  at 
first,  he  gradually  became  tolerably  expert.  On 
one  point,  however,  he  was  obstinate — he  per- 
sisted in  moving  the  razor  downward  instead  of 
upward,  and  occasional  cuts  were  the  consequence. 
While  not  lifting  a  finger  to  dress  himself,  Na- 
poleon dispensed  with  assistance  in  undressing ; 
but  he  flung  his  garments  all  over  the  room — 
his  watch  sometimes  missing  the  table  or  bed  at 
which  it  was  aimed,  and  falling  broken  on  the 
floor. 

As  to  dress,  he  despised  dandies,  never  wore 
rings,  and  abominated  scents,  except  eau  de 
cologne,  with  which  he  was  often  rubbed,  and 
which  was  his  specific  for  bruises.  When  coat- 
tails  became  shorter,  he  stuck  to  the  old  fashion 
of  the  Directory  period,  illustrated  in  several  of 


(224) 


TALLEYRAND   AND   HORTENSE,    SHOWING   COSTUMES   OF    THE   DIRECTORY   PERIOD. 


THE   BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


225 


the  engravings  in  this  volume,  until  Constant  got 
the  tailor  to  shorten  them  by  imperceptible  gra- 
dations. He  disliked  tights-fighting  clothes, 
found  a  new  hat  uncomfortable — though  lined 
with  silk  and  wadding — and  stuck  to  an  old  one 
as  long  as  possible.  He  put  on  every  morning  a 
clean  white  waistcoat,  with  knee-breeches  to  match 
— he  never  wore  trousers — but  as  he  habitually 
wiped  his  pen  on  his  breeches,  after  three  or  four 
washings  they  were  done  with. 

Constant  denies,  however,  the  common  story  of 
his  keeping  snuff  loose  in  his  waistcoat  pocket ; 
he  always  used  a  snuff-box,  and  though  he  fre- 
quently took  a  pinch,  he  simply  held  it  to  his 
nose,  and  then  dropped  all  or  nearly  all  on  the 
floor.  His  snuff  injured  the  carpet,  not  his  waist- 
coat. Smoking  he  never  tried  but  once.  An 
Oriental  Embassador  had  presented  him  with  a 
chibouk.  It  was  filled  and  lit  for  him,  but  he 
merely  opened  and  shut  his  lips  instead  of  draw- 
ing. When  at  last  he  was  induced  to  draw,  the 
smoke  went  down  his  throat  and  came  out  at  his 
nose.  He  felt  queer  for  an  hour,  declaimed 
agdnst  the  habit  as  fit  only  for  lazy  people,  and 
never  touched  a  pipe  again. 


INCIDENTS  OF  A  QUAKER'S  LIFE. 

C-HOMAS  CHALKLEY,  a  Quaker,  and  a 
-'  writer  of  some  distinction,  who  was  born  in 
London  in  1675,  gives  a  touching  account  of  the 
persecutions  to  which  his  sect  were  exposed,  even 
from  their  tender  years.     He  says  : 

"When  between  eight  and  ten  years  of  age, 
my  father  and  mother  sent  me  near  two  miles  to 
school,  to  Richard  Scoryer,  in  the  suburbs  of 
London.  I  went  mostly  by  myself  to  the  school ; 
and  many  and  various  were  the  exercises  I  went 
through,  by  beatings  and  stonings  along  the 
stieets,  being  distinguished  to  the  people  by  the 
badge  of  plainness  which  my  parents  put  upon 
me,  of  what  profession  I  was  :  divers  telling  me, 
'  it  was  no  more  sin  to  kill  me  than  it  was  to  kill 
a  dog.'  " 

He  relates  his  spiritual  experiences  at  great 
length,  commencing  with  his  tenth  year.  At  the 
age  of  twenty  he  was  pressed  on  board  a  man-of- 
war.  He  passed  the  night  in  the  hold,  having 
nothing  to  lie  upon  but  casks,  and  among  wicked 
men  ;  ' '  and  as  we  were  shut  up  in  darkness,  so 
was  their  conversation  dark  and  hellish."  On 
being  asked,  in  the  morning,  "if  he  was  willing 
1-- 


to  serve  his  Majesty,"  he  answered,  that  he  was 
willing  to  serve  him  in  his  business,  and  accord- 
ing to  his  conscience  ;  ' '  but  as  for  war  and  fight- 
ing, Christ  had  forbid  it  in  his  excellent  Sermon 
on  the  Mount ;  and  for  that  reason  I  could  not 
bear  arms  nor  be  instrumental  to  destroy  or  kill 
men."     "Then,"  he  continues, 

' '  The  lieutenant  looked  on  me  and  on  the  peo- 
ple, and  said  :  '  Gentlemen,  what  shall  we  do 
with  this  fellow?  He  swears  he  will  not  fight.' 
The  commander  of  the  vessel  made  answer  :  '  Xo, 
he  will  neither  swear  nor  fight. '  Upon  which  they 
turned  me  on  shore.  I  was  thankful  that  I  was 
delivered  out  of  their  hands ;  and  my  tender 
parents  were  glad  to  see  me  again. ' ' 

In  169S  he  came  as  a  missionary  to  America, 
landing  at  the  mouth  of  the  Patuxent  River  in 
Maryland.  The  following  year  he  travelled 
through  New  England  and  Virginia,  where  he 
found  an  aged  Friend,  ninety-two  years  of  age, 
"who  had  then  a  daughter  two  years  old."  This 
aged  veteran  lived  until  one  year  after  his  child 
was  married,  affording  a  good  example  of  the 
beneficial  effects  of  a  clear  conscience  and  a  salu- 
brious climate  like  that  of  his  adopted  country. 

Mr.  Chalkley  subsequently  returned  to  England, 
where  he  married,  and,  after  a  journey  through 
Ireland,  he  decided  to  remove  permanently  to 
America.  Settling  his  wife  in  Philadelphia,  he 
made  an  extensive  tour  to  Barbadoes,  and  through 
Maryland,  Virginia  and  North  Carolina,  doing 
missionary  work.  In  those  early  days,  the  re- 
gions through  which  he  travelled  contained  very 
few  white  settlers,  and  he  was  frequently  under 
the  necessity  of  camping  out  in  the  woods,  with 
no  shelter  but  the  trees  and  the  heavens.  He  de- 
scribes an  incident  of  this  kind  with  great 
beaut}- : 

"  In  going  to  and  coming  from  this  place,  we 
lay  two  nights  in  the  woods,  and  I  think  I  never 
slept  better  in  all  my  life.  It  was  the  eighth  hour 
in  the  evening,  when  I  laid  down  on  the  ground, 
one  night,  my  saddle  being  my  pillow,  at  the  root 
of  a  tree  ,  and  it  was  four  o'clock  in  the  morning 
when  thej-  called  me.  When  I  awoke.  I  thought 
of  good  Jacob's  lodging  he  had  on  the  way  to 
Padan  Aram,  when  he  saw  the  holy  vision  oi 
angels,  with  the  ladder,  whose  top  reached  to 
heaven.  Very  sweet  was  the  love  of  God  to  my 
soul  that  morning,  and  the  clew  of  the  everlasting- 
hills  refreshed  me  ;  and  I  went  on  my  way  prais- 


22(3 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


ing  the  Lord,  and  magnifying  the  God  of  my  sal- 
vation." 

He  continued  this  mode  of  life  until  1707,  when 
he  made  another  voyage  to  Barbadoes,  and  sail- 
ing thence  for  England,  was  shipwrecked  on  the 
coast  of  Ireland,  but  escaped  personal  injury. 

Upon  leaving  Ireland,  he  journeyed  through 
Great  Britain,  and  after  a  visit  to  Holland  and 
Germany,  returned  to  Philadelphia. 

On  a  subsequent  voyage,  from  the  Bermudas, 
in  consequence  of  a  long  continuance  of  calms, 
the  stock  of  provisions  became  scanty.  The  ves- 
sel being  consigned  to  Chalkley,  and  under  his 
care,  the  crew  began  to  upbraid  him  for  the 
scarcity,  and  "tell  dismal  stories  about  eating 
one  another." 

"  To  stop  their  murmuring,"  he  says,  "  I  told 
them  they  should  not  need  to  cast  lots,  which  was 
usual  in  such  cases,  which  of  us  should  die  first, 
for  I  would  freely  offer  up  my  life  to  do  them 
good.  One  said,  '  God  bless  you  !  I  will  not  eat 
any  of  you.'  Another  said,  '  He  would  die  before 
he  would  eat  any  of  me  ;'  and  so  said  several. 
I  can  truly  say,  on  that  occasion,  at  that  time, 
my  life  was  not  dear  to  me,  and  that  I  was 
serious  and  ingenuous  in  my  proposition  ;  and  as 
I  was  leaning  over  the  side  of  the  vessel,  thought- 
fully considering  my  proposal  to  the  company, 
and  looking  in  my  mind  to  Him  that  made  me, 
a  very  large  dolphin  came  up  towards  the  top 
or  surface  of  the  water,  and  looked  me  in  the 
face  ;  and  I  called  the  people  to  put  a  hook  into 
the  sea,  and  take  him,  for  here  is  one  come  to 
redeem  me  ( I  said  to  them ).  And  they  put  a 
hook  into  the  sea,  and  the  fish  readily  took  it, 
and  they  caught  him.  I  think  he  was  about  six 
feet  long,  the  largest  that  ever  I  saw.  This 
plainly  showed  us  that  we  ought  not  to  distrust 
the  providence  of  the  Almighty.  The  people 
were  quieted  by  this  act  of  Providence,  and  mur- 
mured no  more.  We  caught  enough  to  eat 
plentifully  of  till  we  got  into  the  capes  of  Dela- 
ware. 


ESTHETIC  TASTES  OF   CHARLES   I. 

THIS  monarch  possessed  "four  and  twenty 
palaces,  all  of  them  elegantly  and  com- 
pletely furnished."  The  value  of  pictures 
doubled  in  Europe  during  his  reign,  by  the 
emulation    in    fine    arts    between    Charles    and 


Philip  IV.,  of  Spain,  who  was  touched  with  the 
same  elegant  passion. 

The  mind  of  Charles  I.  was  moulded  by  the 
Graces.  His  favorite  Buckingham  was  probably 
a  greater  favorite,  for  those  congenial  tastes, 
and  the  frequent  exhibition  of  those  splendid 
masks  and  entertainments,  which  combined  all 
the  picture  of  ballet  dances,  with  the  voice  of 
music  ;  the  charms  of  the  verse  of  Jonson,  the 
scenic  machinery  of  Inigo  Jones,  and  the  variety 
of  fanciful  devices  of  Gerbier,  the  duke's  archi- 
tect, the  bosom  friend  of  Rubens.  There  was  a 
costly  magnificence  in  the  fetes  at  York  House, 
the  residence  of  Buckingham,  of  which  few  but 
curious  researchers  are  aware  ;  the}-  eclipsed  the 
splendor  of  the  French  Court  ;  for  Bassompiere, 
in  one  of  his  despatches,  declares  he  had  never 
witnessed  a  similar  magnificence.  He  describes 
tlie  vaulted  apartments,  the  ballets  at  supper, 
which  were  proceeding  between  the  services,  with 
various  representations,  theatrical  changes,  and 
those  of  the  tables,  and  the  music  ;  the  duke's 
own  contrivance,  to  prevent  the  inconvenience  of 
pressure,  by  having  a  turning  door  made  like  that 
of  the  monasteries,  which  admitted  only  one  per- 
son at  a  time.  The  following  extract  from  a 
manuscript  letter  of  the  times  conveys  a  lively 
account  of  one  of  these  fetes : 

"Last  Sunday  at  night,  the  duke's  grace  en- 
tertained their  majesties  and  the  French  ambassa- 
dor at  York  House,  with  great  feasting  and  show, 
where  all  things  came  down  in  clouds  ;  amongst 
which,  one  rare  device  was  a  representation  of  the 
French  king  and  the  two  queens  with  their  chiefest 
attendants,  and  so  to  the  life,  that  the  queen's  ma- 
jesty could  name  them.  It  was  four  o'clock  in 
the  morning  before  the}-  parted,  and  then  the 
king  and  queen,  together  with  the  French  am- 
bassador, lodged  there.  Some  estimate  this  en- 
tertainment at  five  or  six  thousand  pounds." 
At  another  time,  "The  king  and  queen  were  en- 
tertained at  supper,  at  Gerbier's,  the  duke's  pain- 
ter's house,  which  could  not  stand  him  less  than 
a  thousand  pounds."  Sir  Symonds  D'Ewes 
mentions  banquets  at  500/.  Accounts  of  these 
entertainments  show  the  curiosity  of  the  scenical 
machinery,  and  the  fancy  of  the  poet,  the  rich- 
ness of  the  crimson  habits  of  the  gentlemen, 
and  the  white  dresses  with  white  heron's  plumes 
and  jewelled  head  dresses,  and  ropes  or  pearls 
of  the  ladies. 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


227 


WILLIAM   PENN'S  ADVICE  TO  HIS  CHILDREN. 

BETAKE  yourselves  to  some  honest,  indus- 
trious course  of  life,  and  that  not  of  sordid 
covetousness,  but  for  example,  and  to  avoid  idle- 
ness. And  if  you  change  your  condition  and 
marry,  choose  with  the  knowledge  and  consent 
of  your  mother,  if  living,  or  of  guardians,  or 
those  that  have  the  charge  of  you.  Mind  neither 
beauty  nor  riches,  but  the  fear  of  the  Lord,  and  a 
sweet  and  amiable  disposition,  such  as  you  can 
love  above  all  this  world,  and  that  ma}-  make  your 
habitations  pleasant  and  desirable  to  you. 


the  poor  and  need}- ;  let  the  Lord  have  a  volun- 
tary share  of  your  income  for  the  good  of  the  poor, 
both  in  our  society  and  others  ;  for  we  are  all  his 
creatures  ;  remembering  that  ' ;  he  that  giveth  to 
the  poor  lendeth  to  the  Lord." 

Know  well  your  incomings,  and  your  outgoings 
may  be  better  regulated.  Love  not  money  nor 
the  world  :  use  them  only,  and  they  will  serve 
you  ;  but  if  you  love  them  you  serve  them,  which 
will  debase  your  spirits  as  well  as  offend  the 
Lord. 

Pity  the  distressed,  and  hold  out  a  hand  of  help 


BANOUET   TO    THE   FRENCH    AMBASSADORS. 


And  being  married,  be  tender,  affectionate, 
patient,  and  meek.  Live  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord, 
and  he  will  bless  you  and  your  offspring.  Be  sure 
to  live  within  compass  ;  borrow  not,  neither  be 
beholden  to  any.  Ruin  not  yourselves  by  kind- 
ness to  others  ;  for  that  exceeds  the  due  bounds 
of  friendship,  neither  will  a  true  friend  expect  it. 
Small  matters  I  heed  not. 

Let  your  industry  and  parsimony  go  no  further 
than  for  a  sufficiency  for  life,  and  to  make  a  pro- 
vision for  your  children,  and  that  in  moderation, 
if  the  Lord  gives  you  any.     I  charge  you  help 


to  them  ;  it  ma}-  be  your  case,  and  as  you  mete  to 
others,  God  will  mete  to  you  again. 

Be  humble  and  gentle  in  your  conversation  ;  of 
few  words  I  charge  you,  but  alwavs  pertinent 
when  you  speak,  hearing  out  before  you  attempt 
to  answer,  and  then  speaking  as  if  you' would  per- 
suade, not  impose. 

Affront  none,  neither  revenge  the  affronts  that 
are  done  to  you  ;  but  forgive,  and  you  shall  be 
forgiven  of  your  heavenly  Father. 

In  making  friends,  consider  well  first ;  and  when 
you  are  fixed,  be  true,  not  wavering  by  reports, 


228 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


nor  deserting  in  affliction,  for  that  becomes  not 
the  good  and  virtuous. 

Watch  against  anger  :  neither  speak  nor  act  in 
it ;  for,  like  drunkenness,  it  makes  a  man  a  beast, 
and  throws  people  into  desperate  inconveniences. 

Avoid  flatterers,  for  they  are  thieves  in  dis- 
guise ;  their  praise  is  costly,  designing  to  get  by 
those  they  bespeak  :  they  are  the  worst  of  crea- 
tures :  they  lie  to  flatter,  and  flatter  to  cheat ;  and, 
which  is  worse,  if  you  believe  them,  you  cheat 
yourselves  most  dangerously.  But  the  virtuous, 
though  poor,  love,  cherish,  and  prefer.  Remem- 
ber David,  who,  asking  the  Lord,  ' '  Who  shall 
abide  in  thy  tabernacle?  who  shall  dwell  upon 
th>-  holy  hill?"  answers,  "He  that  walketh  up- 
rightly, worketh  righteousness,  and  speaketh  the 
truth  in  his  heart :  in  whose  eyes  the  vile  person 
is  contemned,  but  honoureth  them  who  fear  the 
Lord." 

Xext,  my  children,  be  temperate  in  all  things: 
in  your  diet,  for  that  is  physic  by  prevention  ;  it 
keeps,  nay,  it  makes  people  healthy,  and  their 
generation  sound.  This  is  exclusive  of  the 
spiritual  advantage  it  brings.  Be  also  plain  in 
your  apparel  ;  keep  out  that  lust  which  reigns  too 
much  over  some  ;  let  your  virtues  be  your  orna- 
ments, remembering  life  is  more  than  food,  and 
the  body  than  raiment.  Let  your  furniture  be 
simple  and  cheap.  Avoid  pride,  avarice,  and 
luxury.  Read  my  "No  Cross,  no  Crown." 
There  is  instruction.  Make  your  conversation 
with  the  most  eminent  for  wisdom  and  piety,  and 
shun  all  wicked  men  as  you  hope  for  the  blessing 
of  God  and  the  comfort  of  your  father's  living 
and  dying  prayers.  Be  sure  you  speak  no  evil  of 
any,  no,  not  of  the  meanest;  much  less  of  your 
superiors,  as  magistrates,  guardians,  tutors, 
teachers,  and  elders  in  Christ. 

Be  no  busybodies  :  meddle  not  with  other  folks' 
matters,  but  when  in  conscience  and  duty  pressed  ; 
for  it  procures  trouble,  and  is  ill  manners,  and  very 
unseemly  to  wise  men. 

In  your  families  remember  Abraham,  Moses, 
and  Joshua,  their  integrity  to  the  Lord,  and  do  as 
you  have  them  for  your  examples. 

Let  the  fear  and  service  of  the  living  God  be 
encouraged  in  your  houses,  and  that  plainness, 
sobriety,  and  moderation  in  all  things,  as  be- 
cometh  God's  chosen  people  ;  and  as  I  advise  you, 
my  beloved  children,  do  you  counsel  yours,  if 
God  should  give  vou  an  v.     Yea,  I  counsel  and 


command  them  as  my-  posterity,  that  they  love 
and  serve  the  Lord  God  with  an  upright  heart, 
that  he  may  bless  you  and  yours  from  generation 
to  generation. 

And  as  for  you,  who  are  likely  to  be  concerned 
in  the  government  of  Pennsylvania  and  niy  parts 
of  East  Jersey,  especially  the  first,  I  do  charge 
you  before  the  Lord  God  and  his  holy  angels, 
that  you  be  lowly,  diligent,  and  tender,  fearing 
God,  loving  the  people,  and  hating  covetousness. 
Let  justice  have  its  impartial  course,  and  the  law 
free  passage.  Though  to  your  loss,  protect  no 
man  against  it ;  for  you  are  not  above  the  law, 
but  the  law  above  you.  Live,  therefore,  the  lives 
yourselves  you  would  have  the  people  live,  and 
then  you  have  right  and  boldness  to  punish  the 
transgressor.  Keep  upon  the  square,  for  God  sees 
you  :  therefore,  do  your  duty,  and  be  sure  you  see 
with  your  own  eyes,  and  hear  with  your  own  ears. 
Entertain  no  lurchers,  cherish  no  informers  for 
gain  or  revenge,  use  no  tricks,  fly  to  no  devices  to 
support  or  cover  injustice  ;  but  let  your  hearts  be 
upright  before  the  Lord,  trusting  in  him  above 
the  contrivances  of  men,  and  none  shall  be  able 
to  hurt  or  supplant. 


TURBULENT    INCIDENTS    OF     THE     ENGLISH 
REVOLUTION. 

7TVE  copy  these  interesting  incidents  from  Lord 
\XJ  Clarendon's  "History  of  the  Rebellion," 
published  in  1707,  as  an  evidence  of  the  fact  that 
the  dispositions  of  people  were  about  the  same 
then  as  now,  under  like  circumstances  : 

On  the  Sunday  morning  appointed  for  the  work, 
the  Chancellor  of  Scotland,  and  others  of  the 
council,  being  present  in  the  cathedral  church, 
the  dean  began  to  read  the  Liturgy,  which  he  had 
no  sooner  entered  upon,  but  a  noise  and  clamor 
was  raised  throughout  the  church,  that  no  words 
could  be  heard  distinctly ;  and  then  a  shower  of 
stones,  and  sticks,  and  cudgels,  were  thrown  at 
the  dean's  head.  The  bishop  went  up  into  the 
pulpit,  and  from  thence  put  them  in  mind  of  the 
sacredness  of  the  place,  of  their  duty  to  God  and 
the  king  ;  but  he  found  no  more  reverence,  nor 
was  the  clamor  and  disorder  less  than  before. 
The  chancellor,  from  his  seat,  commanded  the 
provost  and  magistrates  of  the  city  to  descend 
from  the  gallery  in  which  they  sat,  and  by  their 
authority  to  suppress  the  riot ;  which  at  last  with 
creat  difficultv  they  did,   by  driving  the  rudest 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


229 


of  those  who  made  the  disturbance  out  of  the 
church,  and  shutting  the  doors,  which  gave  the 
dean  opportunity  to  proceed  in  the  reading  of  the 
Liturgy,  that  was 
not  at  all  attended 
or  hearkened  to  by 
those  who  remained 
within  the  church ; 
and  if  it  had,  they 
who  were  turned 
out  continued  their 
barbarous  noise, 
broke  the  win- 
dows, and  endeav- 
ored to  break  down 
the  doors,  so  that 
it  was  not  possible 
for  any  to  follow 
their  devotions. 

When  all  was 
done  that  at  that 
time  could  be  done 
there,  and  the  coun- 
cil and  magistrates 
went  out  of  the 
church  to  their 
houses,  the  rabble 
followed  the  bish- 
ops with  all  the 
opprobrious  1  a  n  - 
guage  they  could 
invent,  of  bringing 
in  superstition  and 
popery  into  the 
kingdom,  and 
making  the  people 
slaves ;  and  were 
not  content  to  use 
their  tongues,  but 
employed  their 
hands  too  in  throw- 
ing dirt  and  stones 
at  them  ;  and  treat- 
ed the  bishop  of 
Edinburgh,  whom 
they  looked  upon 
as  most  active  that 
way,  so  rudely,  that 

with  difficulty  he  got  into  a  house,  after  they  had 
torn  his  habit,  and  was  from  thence  removed  to 
his  own,  with  great  hazard  of  his  life.     As  this 


was  the  reception  which  the  liturgy  had  in  the  ca- 
thedral, so  it  fared  not  better  in  the  other  churches 
of  the  city,  but  was  entertained  with  the  same 
wm. 


THE   RABBLE    FORCING   THEIR   WAY  INTO  THE   CHURCH. 

noise  and  outcries,  and  threatening  the  men, 
whose  office  it  was  to  read  it,  with  the  same  bitter 
execrations  against  bishops  and  popery. 


230 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


Hitherto  no  person  of  condition  or  name  ap- 
peared or  seemed  to  countenance  this  seditious 
confusion  ;  it  was  the  rabble,  of  which  nobody 
was  named,  and,  which  is  more  strange,  not  one 
apprehended :  and  it  seems  the  bishops  thought 
it  not  of  moment  enough  to  desire  or  require  any 
help  or  protection  from  the  council ;  but  without 
conferring  with  them,  or  applying  themselves  to 
them,  they  despatched  away  an  express  to  the 
king,  with  a  full  and  particular  information  of  all 
that  had  passed,  and  a  desire  that  he  would  take 
that  course  he  thought  best  for  the  carrying  on 
his  service. 

Until  this  advertisement  arrived  from  Scotland, 
there  were  very  few  in  England  who  had  heard 
of  any  disorders  there,  or  of  anything  done  there 
which  might  produce  any  *  *  And  the  truth 
is,  there  was  so  little  curiosity  either  in  the  court 
or  in  the  country  to  know  anything  of  Scotland, 
or  what  was  done  there,  that  when  the  whole 
nation  was  solicitous  to  know  what  passed  weekly 
in  Germany,  and  Poland,  and  all  other  parts  of 
Europe,  no  man  ever  inquired  what  was  doing  in 
Scotland.  Nor  had  that  kingdom  a  place  or  men- 
tion in  one  page  of  any  gazette  ;  and  even  after  the 
advertisement  of  this  preamble  to  rebellion,  no 
mention  was  made  of  it  at  the  council-board,  but 
such  a  despatch  made  into  Scotland  upon  it,  as 
expressed  the  king's  dislike  and  displeasure,  and 
obliged  the  lords  of  the  council  there  to  appear 
more  vigorously  in  the  vindication  of  his  author- 
ity, and  suppression  of  those  tumults.  But  all 
was  too  little.  That  people,  after  they  had  once 
begun,  pursued  the  business  vigorously,  and 
with  all  imaginable  contempt  of  the  government ; 
and  though  in  the  hubbub  of  the  first  day  there 
appeared  nobody  of  name  or  reckoning,  but  the 
actors  were  really  of  the  dregs  of  the  people,  yet 
they  discovered  by  the  countenance  of  that  day, 
that  few  men  of  rank  were  forward  to  engage 
themselves  in  the  quarrel  on  the  behalf  of  the 
bishops ;  whereupon  more  considerable  persons 
every  day  appeared  against  them,  and  (as  hereto- 
fore in  the  case  of  St  Paul,  Acts  xiii.  50,  '  The 
Jews  stirred  up  the  devout  and  honourable  wo- 
men") the  women  and  ladies  of  the  best  quality 
declared  themselves  of  the  part}-,  and,  with  all 
the  reproaches  imaginable,  made  war  upon  the 
bishops,  as  introducers  of  popery  and  superstition, 
against  which  they  avowed  themselves  to  be  irre- 
concilable enemies;    and  their  husbands  did  not 


long  defer  the  owning  the  same  spirit ;  insomuch 
as  within  a  few  days  the  bishops  durst  not  appear 
in  the  streets,  nor  in  any  courts,  or  houses,  but 
were  in  danger  of  their  lives ;  and  such  of  the  lords 
as  durst  be  in  their  company,  or  seemed  to  desire 
to  rescue  them  from  violence,  had  their  coaches 
torn  in  pieces,  and  their  persons  assaulted,  inso- 
much as  they  were  glad  to  send  for  some  of  those 
great  men,  who  did  indeed  govern  the  rabble, 
though  they  appeared  not  in  it,  who  readily  came 
and  redeemed  them  out  of  their  hands  ;  so  that, 
by  the  time  new  orders  came  from  England, 
there  was  scarce  a  bishop  left  in  Edinburgh,  and 
not  a  minister  who  durst  read  the  Liturgy  in  any 
church. 


CHARACTER  OF  HAMPDEN. 

THIS  description  of  the  character  of  Hampden 
we  also  copy  from  Lord  Clarendon's  history  : 
Mr.  Hampden  was  a  man  of  much  greater  cun- 
ning, and,  it  may  be,  of  the  most  discerning 
spirit,  and  of  the  greatest  address  and  insinuation 
to  bring  anything  to  pass  which  he  desired,  of  any 
man  of  that  time,  and  who  laid  the  design 
deepest.  He  was  a  gentleman  of  a  good  extrac- 
tion, and  a  fair  fortune  ;  who,  from  a  life  of  plea- 
sure and  license,  had  on  a  sudden  retired  to  ex- 
traordinary sobriety  and  strictness,  and  yet  re- 
tained his  usual  cheerfulness  and  affability ; 
which,  together  with  the  opinion  of  his  wisdom 
and  justice,  and  the  courage  he  had  shown  in 
opposing  the  ship-money,  raised  his  reputation  to 
a  very  great  height,  not  only  in  Buckingham- 
shire, where  he  lived,  but  generally  throughout 
the  kingdom.  He  was  not  a  man  of  many  words, 
and  rarely  began  the  discourse,  or  made  the  first 
entrance  upon  any  business  that  was  assumed  ; 
but  a  very  weighty  speaker,  and  after  he  had 
heard  a  full  debate,  and  observed  how  the  house 
was  like  to  be  inclined,  took  up  the  argument, 
and  shortly,  and  clearly,  and  craftily  so  stated  it, 
that  he  commonly  conducted  it  to  the  conclusion 
he  desired  ;  and  if  he  found  he  could  not  do  that, 
he  was  never  without  the  dexterity  to  divert  the 
debate  to  another  time,  and  to  prevent  the  deter- 
mining anything  in  the  negative,  which  might 
prove  inconvenient  in  the  future.  He  made  so- 
great  a  show  of  civility,  and  modesty,  and  humil- 
ity, and  always  of  mistrust  of  his  own  judgment, 
and  esteeming  his  with  whom  he  conferred  for 
the  present,  that  he  seemed   to  have  no  opinions. 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


231 


or  resolutions,  but  such  as  he  contracted  from  the 
information  and  instruction  he  received  upon  the 
discourses  of  others,  whom  he  had  a  wonderful 
art  of  governing  and  leading  into  his  principles 
and  inclinations,  whilst  they  believed  that  he 
wholly  depended  upon  their  counsel  and  advice. 
No  man  had  ever  a  greater  power  over  himself, 
or  was  less  the  man  that  he  seemed  to  be  ;  which 
shortly  after  appeared  to  everybody,  when  he 
cared  less  to  keep  on  the  mask. 


that  time  the  most  popular  man  in  England, 
and  exercised  a  greater  influence  than  any  other 
over  the  actions  of  the  people. 

During  the  war  between  the  parliamentary 
forces  and  the  royalists,  he  commanded  a  regi- 
ment of  volunteer  infantry,  which  he  had  raised 
in  his  native  county,  and  he  made  himself  so 
distinguished  by  his  daring  and  intrepidity  that 
a  wish  was  expressed  that  he  should  take  com- 
mand of  the  entire   army.     On   the  evening  of 


the  burial  of 

This  sketch  hardly  does  justice  to  the  character 
of  Hampden.  He  was  a  cousin  of  Oliver  Crom- 
well, his  mother  (Elizabeth  Cromwell)  being  an 
aunt  of  the  latter  ;  and  as  he  was  also  a  leader 
of  the  people  in  their  revolution  against  the  ty- 
ranny of  the  king,  he  naturally  made  bitter 
enemies,  whose  hatred  could  not  be  restrained 
from  tarnishing  his  name  in  history.  That  he 
was  very  popular  with  the  people  is  shown  by 
the  fact  that  when  he  had  been  denounced  for 
treason,  and  his  person  was  demanded  by 
Charles,  the  officers  of  the  latter,  in  spite  of 
their  utmost  efforts,  found  it  impossible  to  arrest 
him.       In    fact   it   is   asserted   that    he  was    at 


JOHN   HAMPDEN. 

June  17,  1643,  Prince  Rupert  set  out  for  Oxford 
with  two  thousand  men,  on  one  of  his  charac- 
teristic expeditions.  Hampden  hastened  with  a 
small  body  of  volunteers  to  intercept  his  return, 
and  overtook  the  enemy  at  Chalgrove.  With- 
out a  moment's  hesitation  he  charged  into  their 
ranks,  according  to  his  usual  intrepid  custom, 
but  was  struck  in  the  shoulder  by  two  balls, 
which  lodged  in  his  body.  After  six  days'  acute 
suffering  he  expired,  uttering  with  his  latest 
breath  a  prayer  for  England.  The  whole  coun- 
try mourned  his  loss,  and  his  funeral  was  at- 
tended by  an  immense  concourse  of  people. 
His   name   will    stand    forever  on    the  pages  of 


232 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


history    as    one   of  the    great    defenders  of  the 
liberties  of  the  people. 


PRIVATE  HISTORY  OF  THE   COURT  OF 
CHARLES   I. 

CHE  king  is  accused  of  the  most  spiritless 
uxoriousness  ;  and  the  chaste  fondness  of  a 
husband  is  placed  among  his  political  errors. 
Even  Hume  conceives  that  his  queen  precipitated 


ATTEMPT   OF   CHARLES    I.    TO   SEIZE   THK    FIVE   MEMBERS 


him  into  hasty  and  imprudent  counsels,  and 
Bishop  Kennet  had  alluded  to  the  influence  of  a 
stately  queen  over  an  affectionate  husband.  The 
uxoriousness  of  Charles  is  re-echoed  by  all  the 
writers  of  a  certain  party.  This  is  an  odium 
which  the  king's  enemies  first  threw  out  to  make 
him  contemptible  ;  while  his  apologists  imagined 
that,  in  perpetuating  this  accusation,  they  had  dis- 
covered, in  a  weakness  which  has  at  least  some- 
thing amiable,  some  palliation  for  his  own  politi- 


cal misconduct.  The  factious,  too,  by  this  asper- 
sion, promoted  the  alarm  they  spread  in  the  na- 
tion, of  the  king's  inclination  to  popery  ;  yet,  on 
the  contrary,  Charles  was  then  making  a  deter- 
mined stand,  and  ati  length  triumphed  over  a 
Catholic  faction,  which  was  ruling  his  queen  ;  and 
this  at  the  risk  of  menace  of  a  war  with  France. 
Yet  this  firmness  too  has  been  denied  him,  even 
by  his  apologist  Hume  :  that  historian  on  his  pre- 
conceived system  imagined, 
that  every  action  of  Charles 
I.  originated  in  the  Duke  of 
Buckingham,  and  that  the 
duke  pursued  his  personal 
quarrel  with  Richelieu  and 
taking  advantage  of  these  do- 
mestic quarrels,  had  per- 
suaded Charles  to  dismiss  the 
French  attendants  of  the 
queen. 

There  are,  fortunately,  two 
letters  from  Charles  I.  to 
Buckingham,  preserved  in  the 
state-papers  of  Lord  Hard- 
wicke,  which  set  this  point 
to  rest:  these  decisively 
prove,  that  the  whole  matter 
originated  with  the  king  him- 
self, and  that  Buckingham 
had  tried  every  effort  to  per- 
suade him  to  the  contrary. 

It  is  remarkable  that  the 
character  of  a  queen  who  is 
imagined  to  have  performed 
so  active  a  part  in  our  his- 
tory, scarcely  ever  appears 
in  it  :  when  abroad,  and  when 
she  returned  to  England,  in 
the  midst  of  a  winter  storm, 
bringing  all  the  aid  she  could 
to  her  unfortunate  consort, 
those  who  witnessed  this  appearance  of  energy 
imagined  that  her  character  was  equally  powerful 
in  the  cabinet.  Yet  Henrietta,  after  all,  was 
nothing  more  than  a  volatile  woman  :  one  who 
had  never  studied,  never  reflected,  and  whom 
nature  had  formed  to  be  charming  and  haughty, 
but  whose  vivacity  could  not  retain  a  state-secret 
for  an  hour,  and  whose  talents  were  quite  opposite 
to  those  of  deep  political  intrigue. 

Henrietta  viewed  even  the  characters  of  great 


PARLIAMENT. 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


233 


men  with  all  the  sensations  of  a  woman.  Describ- 
ing the  Earl  of  Stafford  to  a  confidential  friend, 
and  having  observed  that  he  was  a  great  man, 
she  dwelt  with  far  more  interest  on  his  person : 
"Though  not  handsome,"  said  she,  "he  was 
agreeable  enough,  and  he  had  the  finest  hands 
of  any  man  in  the  world."  Lauding  at  Burling- 
ton Bay  in  Yorkshire,  she  lodged  on  the  quay  ; 
the  parliament's  admiral  barbarously  pointed  his 
cannon  at  the  house  ;  and  several  shot  reaching 


lively  temper,  and  impatiently  babbled  the  plot ; 
so  that  one  of  the  ladies  in  attendance  despatched 
a  hasty  note  to  the  parties,  who,  as  the  king  en- 
tered the  house,  had  just  time  to  leave  it.  Some 
have  dated  the  ruin  of  his  cause  to  the  failure  of 
that  impolitic  step,  which  alarmed  every  one  zeal- 
ous for  that  spirit  of  political  freedom  which  had 
now  grown  up  in  the  commons.  Incidents  like 
these  mark  the  feminine  dispositions  of  Henrietta. 
But  when  at  sea,  in  danger  of  being  taken  by  a 


LANDING   OF    OUEEN    HENRIETTA    AT   BURLINGTON   BAY. 


it,  her  favorite,  Jermyn  requested  her  to  fly  ;  she 
safely  reached  a  cavern  in  the  fields,  but,  recol- 
lecting that  she  had  left  a  lap-dog  asleep  in  its 
bed,  she  flew  back,  and,  amidst  the  cannon-shot, 
returned  with  this  other  favorite.  The  queen  re- 
lated this  incident  of  the  lap-dog  to  her  friend 
Madame  Motteville  ;  these  ladies  considered  it  as 
a  complete  woman's  victory.  It  is  in  these  me- 
moirs we  find,  that  when  Charles  went  down  to 
the  house,  to  seize  on  the  five  leading  members  of 
the   opposition,  the  queen  could  not  retain   her 


parliamentarian,  the  queen  commanded  the  cap- 
tain not  to  strike,  but  to  prepare  at  the  extremity 
to  blow  up  the  ship,  resisting  the  shrieks  of  her 
females  and  domestics  ;  we  perceive  how,  on  every 
trying  occasion,  Henrietta  never  forgot  that  she 
was  the  daughter  of  Henry  IV.;  that  glorious 
affinity  was  inherited  by  her  with  all  the  sexual 
pride  ;  and  hence,  at  times,  that  energy  in  her 
actions  which  was  so  far  above  her  intellectual 
capacity.  Even  when  driven  to  land,  to  escape 
capture,  she  was  the  coolest  of  her  party,   and 


234 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


nursed  her  lap-dog  apparently  unconscious  of  all 
danger. 

And,  indeed,  when  the  awful  events  she  had 
witnessed  were  one  by  one  registered  in  her  melan- 
choly mind,  the  sensibility  of  the  woman  subdued 
the  natural  haughtiness  of  her  character  ;  but, 
true  woman  !  the  feeling  creature  of  circum- 
stances, at  the  Restoration  she  resumed  it,  and 
when  the  new  court  of  Charles  II.  would  not  en- 
dure her  obsolete  haughtiness,  the  dowager-queen 
left  it  in  all  the  full  bitterness  of  her  spirit.  An 
habitual  gloom,  and  the  meagerness  of  grief, 
during  the  commonwealth  had  changed  a  counte- 
nance once  the  most  lively,  and  her  eyes,  whose 
dark  and  dazzling  lustre  was  even  celebrated,  then 
only  shone  in  tears.  When  she  told  her  physi- 
cian, Sir  Theodore  Mayerne,  that  she  found  her 
understanding  was  failing  her,  and  seemed  terri- 
fied lest  it  was  approaching  to  madness,  the  court 
physician,  hardly  courtly  to  fallen  majesty,  re- 
plied, "Madam,  fear  not  that;  for  you  are  al- 
ready mad."  Henrietta  had  lived  to  contemplate 
the  awful  changes  of  her  reign,  without  compre- 
hending them. 

When  Henrietta  was  on  her  way  to  England,  a 
legate  from  Rome  arrested  her  at  Amiens,  requir- 
ing the  princess  to  undergo  a  penance,  which  was 
to  last  sixteen  days,  for  marrying  Charles  without 
the  papal  dispensation.  The  queen  stopped  her 
journey,  and  wrote  to  inform  the  king  of  the  occa- 
sion. Charles,  who  was  then  waiting  for  her  at 
Canterbury,  replied,  that  if  Henrietta  did  not  in- 
stantly proceed,  he  would  return  alone  to  London. 
Henrietta  doubtless  sighed  for  the  pope  and  the 
penance,  but  she  set  off  the  day  she  received  the 
king's  letter.  The  king,  either  by  his  wisdom  or 
his  impatience,  detected  the  aim  of  the  Roman 
pontiff,  who,  had  he  been  permitted  to  arrest  the 
progress  of  a  Queen  of  England  for  sixteen  days 
in  the  face  of  all  Europe,  would  thus  have  obtained 
a  tacit  supremacy  over  a  British  Monarch. 

When  ';he  king  arrived  at  Canterbury,  although 
not  at  the  moment  prepared  to  receive  him,  Hen- 
rietta flew  to  meet  him,  and  with  all  her  sponta- 
neous grace  and  native  vivacity,  kneeling  at  his 
feet,  rhe  kissed  his  hand,  while  the  king,  bending 
over  ier,  wrapt  her  in  his  arms,  and  kissed  her 
with  many  kisses.  This  royal  and  youthful  pair, 
unusual  with  those  of  their  rank,  met  with  the 
eagerness  of  lovers,  and  the  first  words  of  Henrietta 
WP  e  those  of  devotion  ;  Sire.    Je  sin's  venue  en  ce 


paic  de  votre  Majeste,  pour  etre  usee  et  commandee 
de  vous.  It  had  been  rumoured  that  she  was  of 
a  very  short  stature,  but  reaching  to  the  king's 
shoulder,  his  eyes  were  cast  down  to  her  feet, 
seemingly  observing  whether  she  used  art  to  in- 
crease her  height.  Anticipating  his  thoughts, 
and  playfully  showing  her  feet,  she  declared,  that 
"  she  stood  upon  her  own  feet,  for  thus  high  I  am, 
and  neither  higher  or  lower."  After  an  hour's 
conversation  in  privacy,  Henrietta  took  her 
dinner  surrounded  by  the  court ;  and  the  king, 
who  had  already  dined,  performing  the  office  of 
her  carver,  cut  a  pheasant  and  some  venison.  By 
the  side  of  the  queen  stood  her  ghostly  confessor, 
solemnly  reminding  her  that  this  was  the  eve  of 
John  the  Baptist,  and  was  to  be  fasted,  exhorting 
her  to  be  cautious  that  she  set  no  scandalous  ex- 
ample on  her  first  arrival.  But  Charles  and  his 
court  were  now  to  be  gained  over,  as  well  as  John 
the  Baptist.  She  affected  to  eat  very  heartily  of 
the  forbidden  meat,  which  gave  great  comfort,  it 
seems,  to  several  of  her  new  heretical  subjects 
then  present  ;  but  we  may  conceive  the  pangs  of 
so  confirmed  a  devotee  !  She  carried  her  dissimu- 
lation so  far,  that  being  asked  about  this  time 
whether  she  could  abide  a  Huguenot  ?  she  replied, 
"Why  not? — Was  not  my  father  one?"  Her 
ready  smiles,  the  graceful  wave  of  her  hand,  the 
many  "  good  signs  of  hope,"  as  a  contemporary 
irj  a  manuscript  letter  expresses  it,  induced  many 
of  the  English  to  believe  that  Henrietta  might 
even  become  one  of  themselves  !  Sir  Symonds 
D'Ewes,  as  appears  by  his  manuscript  diary,  was 
struck  by  "  her  deportment  to  her  women,  and 
her  looks  to  her  servants,  which  were  so  sweet 
and  humble ! ' '  However,  this  was  in  the 
first  days  of  her  arrival,  and  these  "sweet  and 
humble  looks  ' '  were  not  constant  ones  ;  for  a  cour- 
tier at  Whitehall,  writing  to  a  friend,  observes- 
that  "  the  queen,  however  little  of  stature,  yet  is 
of  a  pleasing  countenance,  if  she  be  pleased, 
otherwise  full  of  spirit  and  vigour,  and  seems  of 
more  than  ordinary  resolution  ' ' ;  and  he  adds  an 
incident  of  one  of  her  "frowns."  The  room  in 
which  the  queen  was  at  dinner  being  somewhat 
overheated  with  the  fire  and  company,  "she 
drove  us  all  out  of  the  chamber.  I  suppose  none 
but  a  queen  could  have  cast  such  a  scowl."  We 
may  already  detect  the  fair  waxen  mask  melting 
away  on  the  features  it  covered,  even  in  one  short 
month  ! 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


235 


By  the  marriage  contract,  Henrietta  was  to  be 
allowed  a  household  establishment,  composed  of 
her  own  people  ;  and  this  had  been  contrived  to 
be  no  less  than  a  small  French  colony,  exceeding 
three  hundred  persons. 

The  French  party  had  not  long  resided  in 
Eondon,  ere  the  mutual  jealousies  between  the 
two  nations  broke  out.  All  the  English  who 
were  not  Catholics  were  soon  dismissed  from  their 
attendance  on  the  queen,  by  herself;  while 
Charles  was  compelled,  by  the  popular  cry,  to 
forbid  any  English  Catholics  to  serve  the  queen, 
or  to  be  present  at  the  celebration  of  her  mass. 
The  king  was  even  obliged  to  employ  pursui- 
vants or  king' s  messengers,  to  stand  at  the  door 
of  her  chapel  to  seize  on  any  of  the  English  who 
entered  there,  while  on  these  occasions  the  French 
would  draw  their  swords  to  defend  these  concealed 
Catholics.  ' '  The  queen  and  hers  ' '  became  an 
odious  distinction  in  the  nation.  Such  were  the 
indecent  scenes  exhibited  in  public  ;  they  were  not 
less  reserved  in  private.  The  following  anecdote 
of  saying  a  grace  before  the  king,  at  his  own 
table,  in  a  most  indecorous  race  run  between  the 
catholic  priest  and  the  king's  chaplain,  is  given 
in  a  manuscript  letter  of  the  times  : 

"The  King  and  queen  dining  together  in  the 
presence,  Mr.  Hacket  (the  chaplain  to  the  Lord 
Keeper  Williams)  being  then  to  say  grace,  the 
confessor  would  have  prevented  him,  but  that 
Hacket  shoved  him  away  ;  whereupon  the  con- 
fessor went  to  the  queen's  side,  and  was  about  to 
say  grace  again,  but  that  the  king  pulling  the 
dishes  unto  him,  and  the  carvers  falling  to  their 
business,  hindered.  When  dinner  was  done,  the 
confessor  thought,  standing  by  the  queen,  to  have 
been  before  Mr.  Hacket,  but  Mr.  Hacket  again 
got  the  start.  The  confessor,  nevertheless,  begins 
his  grace  as  loud  as  Mr.  Hacket,  with  such  a 
confusion  that  the  king  in  great  passion  instantly 
rose  from  the  table,  and,  taking  the  queen  by  the 
hand,  retired  into  the  bed-chamber." 

One  evening  the  king  suddenly  appeared,  and 
summoning  the  French  household,  commanded 
them  to  take  their  instant  departure — the  car- 
riages were  prepared  for  their  removal.  In  doing 
this,  Charles  had  to  resist  the  warmest  entreaties, 
and  even  the  vehement  anger  of  the  queen,  who 
is  said  in  her  rage  to  have  broken  several  panes 
of  the  window  of  the  apartment,  to  which  the 
kin^  dragged  her,  and  confined  her  from  them. 


The  scene  which  took  place  among  the  French 
people,  at  the  sudden  announcement  of  the  king's 
determination,  was  remarkably  indecorous.  They 
instantly  flew  to  take  possession  of  the  queen's 
wardrobe  and  jewels  ;  they  did  not  leave  her,  it 
appears,  a  change  of  linen,  since  it  was  with 
difficult}-  she  procured  one  as  a  favor,  according 
to  some  manuscript  letters  of  the  times.  One  of 
their  extraordinary  expedients  was  that  of  invent- 
ing bills,  for  which  the}-  pretended  they  had 
engaged  themselves  on  account  of  the  queen,  to 
the  amount  of  10,000  pounds  ($50,000),  which  the 
queen  at  first  owned  to,  but  afterwards  acknowl- 
edged the  debts  were  fictitious  ones.  Among  these 
items  was  one  for  400  pounds  for  necessaries  for 
her  majesty  ;  an  apothecary's  bill  for  drugs  of  800 
pounds;  and  another  of  150  pounds  for  "the 
bishop's  unholy  water,"  as  the  writer  expresses  it. 
The  young  French  bishop  attempted  by  all  sorts 
of  delays  to  avoid  this  ignominious  expulsion  ; 
till  the  king  was  forced  to  send  his  yeomen  of 
the  guards  to  turn  them  out  from  Somerset  House,, 
where  the  juvenile  French  bishop  at  once  pro- 
tested against  it,  and  mounting  the  steps  of  the 
coach,  took  his  departure  "head  and  shoulders." 
It  appears  that  to  pay  the  debts  and  pensions, 
besides  sending  the  French  troops  home,  cost 
50,000  pounds  ($250,000). 

In  a  long  procession  of  nearly  forty  coaches, 
after  four  days'  tedious  travelling,  they  reached 
Dover ;  but  the  spectacle  of  these  impatient 
foreigners  so  reluctantly  quitting  England,  ges- 
ticulating their  sorrows  or  their  quarrels,  exposed 
them  to  the  derision  and  stirred  up  the  prejudices 
of  the  common  people.  As  Madame  George, 
whose  vivacity  is  described  as  extravagantly 
French,  was  stepping  into  the  boat,  one  of  the 
mob  could  not  resist  the  satisfaction  of  flinging  a 
stone  at  her  French  cap  ;  an  English  courtier,  who 
was  conducting  her,  instantly  quitted  his  charge, 
ran  the  fellow  through  the  body,  and  quietly 
returned  to  the  boat.  The  man  died  on  the  spot ; 
but  no  further  notice  appears  to  have  been  taken 
of  the  inconsiderate  gallantry  of  this  English 
courtier. 

During  the  residence  of  the  French  party  at 
the  English  court,  they  found  opportunities  to 
divulge  many  state  secrets  to  the  French  govern- 
ment, and  this  fact  was  no  doubt  the  real  cause 
of  their  expulsion. 

The  queen's  priests,  by  those  peculiar  methods 


236 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


which  have  been  sanctioned  by  the  Church  in 
all  ages,  were  drawing  from  the  queen  the  minutest 
circumstances  which  passed  in  privacy  between 
her  and  the  king  ;  indisposed  her  mind  towards 
her  royal  consort,  impressed  on  her  a  contempt  of 
the  English  nation,  and  a  disgust  of  their  customs, 
and  particularly,  as  has  been  usual  with  the 
French,  made  her  neglect  the  English  language, 
as  if  the  queen  of  England  held  no  common  inter- 
est with  the  nation.  The)-  had  made  her  resi- 
dence a  place  of  security  for  the  persons  and 
papers  of  the  discontented.  Yet  all  this  was 
hardly  more  offensive  than  the  humiliating  state 
to  which  they  had  reduced  an  English  queen 
by  their  monastic  obedience  ;  inflicting  the  most 
degrading  penances.  One  of  the  most  flagrant  is 
alluded  to  in  our  history.  This  was  a  barefoot 
pilgrimage  to  Tyburn,  where,  one  morning,  under 
the  gallows  on  which  so  many  Jesuits  had  been 
executed  as  traitors  to  Elizabeth  and  James  I.,  she 
knelt  and  prayed  to  them  as  martyrs  and  saints 
who  had  shed  their  blood  in  defence  of  the 
catholic  cause.  A  manuscript  letter  of  the  times 
mentions  that  "the  priests  had  also  made  her 
dabble  in  the  dirt  in  a  foul  morning  from  Somerset 
house  to  St.  James's,  her  confessor  riding  along  by 
her  in  his  coach  !  They  made  her  to  go  barefoot, 
to  spin,  and  to  eat  her  meat  out  of  dishes,  to  wait 
at  the  table  of  servants,  with  many  other  ridicu- 
lous and  absurd  penances.  And  if  they  dare  thus 
insult  (adds  the  writer)  over  the  daughter,  sister, 
and  wife  of  so  great  a  king,  what  slaver}-  would 
they  not  make  us,  the  people,  to  undergo  !  " 

One  of  the  articles  in  the  contract  of  marriage 
"was,  that  the  queen  should  have  a  chapel  at  St. 
James's  to  be  built  and  consecrated  by  her  French 
bishop  ;  the  priests  became  very  importui  ate, 
declaring  that  without  a  chapel  mass  could  not  be 
performed  with  the  state  it  ought,  before  the  queen. 
The  king's  answer  was  firm  and  to  the  point :  "If 
the  queen's  closet,  where  they  now  say  mass,  is 
not  large  enough,  let  them  have  it  in  the  great 
chambei  ;  and,  if  the  great  chamber  is  not  wide 
enough,  they  might  use  the  garden  ;  and,  if  the 
garden  will  not  serve  their  turn,  the  park  is  the 
fittest  place." 

VISIONS  IN  LITERATURE. 

DANTE'S  "Inferno"  is  written  in  the  form 
of  a  vision,  and  of  late  years  it  has  been 
asserted  that  this  masterpiece  of  poetry  was  bor- 


rowed from  the  older  ' '  Vision  of  Charles  the 
Bald,"  written  by  a  monk  named  Alberico,  two 
centuries  before  Dante's  time.  These  "visions" 
were  the  satires  of  the  times,  and  served  the  pur- 
pose of  a  vehicle  for  popular  instruction.  We 
quote  some  passages  from  the  ' '  Vision  of  Charles 
the  Bald,"  to  show  the  similarity  to  correspond- 
ing passages  in  Dante's  poem.  Alberico,  in 
writing  this  vision,  put  himself  in  the  place 
of  the  emperor  : 

"I,  Charles,  by  the  gratuitous  gift  of  God, 
king  of  the  Germans,  Roman  patrician,  and  like- 
wise emperor  of  the  Franks  : 

"On  the  holy  night  of  Sunday,  having  per- 
formed the  divine  offices  of  matins,  returning  to 
rny  bed  to  sleep,  a  voice  most  terrible  came  to  my 
ear :  '  Charles !  thy  spirit  shall  now  issue  from 
thy  body  ;  thou  shalt  go  and  behold  the  judg- 
ments of  God  ;  they  shall  serve  thee  only  as  pre- 
sages, and  thy  spirit  shall  again  return  shortly 
afterwards.'  Instantly  was  in}-  spirit  rapt,  and  he 
who  bore  me  away  was  a  being  of  the  most  splen- 
did whiteness.  He  put  into  my  hand  a  ball  of 
thread,  which  shed  about  a  blaze  of  light,  such 
as  the  comet  darts  when  it  is  apparent.  He 
divided  it,  and  said  to  me,  '  Take  thou  this  thread, 
and  bind  it  strongly  on  the  thumb  of  thy  righi 
hand,  and  by  this  I  will  lead  thee  through  the 
infernal  labyrinth  of  punishments.' 

"Then  going  before  with  velocity,  but  always 
unwinding  this  luminous  thread,  he  conducted 
me  into  deep  valleys  filled  with  fires,  and  wells 
inflamed,  blazing  with  all  sorts  of  unctuous  matter. 
There  I  observed  the  prelates  who  had  served  my 
father  and  my  ancestors.  Although  I  trembled, 
I  still,  however,  inquired  of  them  to  learn  the 
cause  of  their  torments.  They  answered,  '  We 
are  the  bishops  of  your  father  and  your  ancestors  ; 
instead  of  uniting  them  and  their  people  in  peace 
and  concord,  we  sowed  among  them  discord,  and 
were  the  kindlers  of  evil ;  for  this  we  are  burning 
in  these  Tartarean  punishments ;  we,  and  other 
men-slayers  and  devourers  of  rapine.  Here  also 
shall  come  your  bishops,  and  that  crowd  of  satel- 
lites who  surround  you,  and  who  imitate  the  evil 
we  have  done.' 

"And  whilst  I  listened  to  them  tremblingly,  I 
beheld  the  blackest  demons  flying  with  hooks  of 
burning  iron,  who  would  have  caught  that  ball 
of  thread  which  I  held  in  my  hand,  and  drawn  it 
towards  them,  but  I  darted  such  a  reverberating; 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S  HISTORY. 


237 


j,'£;lit,  that  they  could  not  lay  hold  of  the  thread. 
These  demons,  when  at  my  back,  hustled  to  pre- 
cipitate me  into  those  sulphureous  pits ;  but  my 
conductor,  who  carried  the  ball,  wound  about  my 
shoulder  a  doubled  thread,  drawing  me  to  him 
with  such  force,  that  we  ascended  high  mountains 
of  flame,  from  whence  issued  lakes  and  burning 
streams,  melting  all  kinds  of  metals.  There  I 
found  the  souls  of  lords  who  had  served  my  father 
and  my  brothers  ;  some  plunged  in  up  to  the  hair 
of  their  heads,  others  to  their  chins,  others  with 
half  their  bodies  immersed.  These  yelling,  cried 
to  me,  '  It  is  for  inflaming  discontents  with  3'our 
father,  and  your  brothers,  and  yourself,  to  make 
war  and  spread  murder  and  rapine,  eager  for 
earthly  spoils,  that  we  now  suffer  these  torments 
in  these  rivers  of  boiling  metal.'  While  I  was 
timidly  bending  over  their  suffering,  I  heard  at 
my  back  the  clamor  of  voices,  potentes  potenter 
iormcnta  pathtntur !  'The  powerful  suffer  tor- 
ments powerfully  ; '  and  I  looked  up,  and  beheld 
on  the  shore  boiling  streams  and  ardent  furnaces, 
blazing  with  pitch  and  sulphur,  full  of  great 
dragons,  large  scorpions,  and  serpents  of  a  strange 
species  ;  where  also  I  saw  some  of  my  ancestors, 
princes,  and  my  brothers  also,  who  said  to  me, 
'  Alas,  Charles  !  behold  our  heavy  punishment  for 
evil,  and  for  proud  and  malignant  counsels,  which 
in  our  realms  and  in  thine  we  yielded  to  from  the 
lust  of  dominion.'  As  I  was  grieving  with  their 
groans,  dragons  hurried  on,  who  sought  to  de-, 
vour  me  with  throats  opened,  belching  flame  and 
sulphur.  But  my  leader  trebled  the  thread  over 
me,  at  whose  resplendent  light  these  were  over- 
come. Leading  me  then  securely,  we  descended 
into  a  great  vallej-,  which  on  one  side  was  dark, 
except  where  lighted  by  ardent  furnaces,  while 
the  amenity  of  the  other  was  so  pleasant  and 
splendid  that  I  cannot  describe  it.  I  turned, 
however,  to  the  obscure  and  flaming  side ;  I  be- 
held some  kings  of  my  race  agonized  in  great  and 
strange  punishments,  and  I  thought  how  in  an 
instant  the  huge  black  giants  who  in  turmoil  were 
working  to  set  this  whole  valley  into  flames, 
would  have  hurled  me  into  these  gulfs ;  I  still 
trembled,  when  the  luminous  thread  cheered  my 
eyes,  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  valley  a  light 
for  a  little  while  whitened,  gradually  breaking  :  I 
observed  two  fountains ;  one,  whose  waters  had 
extreme  heat,  the  other  more  temperate  and  clear ; 
and  two  large  vessels  filled  with  these  waters. 


The  luminous  thread  rested  on  one  of  the  fen-id 
waters,  where  I  saw  my  father  Louis  covered  to 
his  thighs,  and  though  laboring  in  the  anguish 
of  bodily  pain,  he  spoke  to  me,  '  My  son  Charles, 
fear  nothing  !  I  know  that  thy  spirit  shall  return 
unto  thy  body ;  and  God  has  permitted  thee  to- 
come  here  that  thou  mayest  witness,  because  of 
the  sins  I  have  committed,  the  punishments  I 
endure.  One  day  I  am  placed  in  the  boiling  bath 
of  this  large  vessel,  and  on  another  changed  into 
that  of  more  temperate  waters  :  this  I  owe  to  the- 
prayers  of  Saint  Peter,  Saint  Denis,  Saint  Remy, 
who  are  the  patrons  of  our  royal  house ;  but  if  by 
prayers  and  masses,  offerings  and  alms,  psalmody 
and  vigils,  my  faithful  bishops  and  abbots,  and 
even  all  the  ecclesiastical  order,  assist  me,  it  will 
not  be  long  before  I  am  delivered  from  these  boil- 
ing waters.  Look  on  your  left  !  '  I  looked,  and 
beheld  two  tuns  of  boiling  waters.  '  These  are 
prepared  for  thee,'  he  said,  'if  thou  wilt  not  be- 
thine  own  corrector,  and  do  penance  for  thy 
crimes  ! '  Then  I  began  to  sink  with  horror  ;  but 
my  guide,  perceiving  the  panic  of  my  spirit,  said 
to  me,  '  Follow  me  to  the  right  of  the  valley 
bright  in  the  glorious  light  of  Paradise.'  I  had 
not  long  proceeded,  when  amidst  the  most  illus- 
trious kings,  I  beheld  my  uncle  Lotharius  seated 
on  a  topaz,  of  marvellous  magnitude,  crowned 
with  a  most  precious  diadem  ;  and  beside  him  was- 
his  son  Louis,  like  him  crowned,  and  seeing  me, 
he  spake  with  a  blandishment  of  air,  and  a  sweet- 
ness of  voice,  '  Charles,  my  successor,  now  the 
third  in  the  Roman  Empire,  approach  !  I  know- 
that  thou  hast  come  to  view  these  places  of  pun- 
ishment, where  thy  father  and  my  brother  groans- 
to  his  destined  hour  ;  but  still  to  end  by  the  inter- 
cession of  the  three  saints,  the  patrons  of  the 
kings  and  the  people  of  France.  Know  that  it 
will  not  be  long  ere  thou  shalt  be  dethroned,  and 
shortly  after  thou  shalt  die ! '  Then  Louis  turn- 
ing towards  me  :  '  Thy  Roman  Empire  shall  pass 
into  the  hands  of  Louis,  the  son  of  my  daughter  ; 
give  him  the  sovereign  authority,  and  trust  to  his 
hands, that  ball  of  thread  thou  holdest.'  Directly 
I  loosened  it  from  the  finger  of  my  right  hand  to 
give  the  empire  to  his  son.  This  invested  him  with 
empire,  and  he  became  brilliant  with  all  light  ; 
and  at  the  same  instant,  admirable  to  see,  my 
spirit,  greatly  wearied  and  broken,  returned  and 
glided  into  my  body.  Hence  let  all  know,  what- 
ever happen,  that  Louis  the  young  possesses  the 


233 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AXD   THE 


Roman  empire  destined  by  God.  And  so  the 
Lord  who  reigneth  over  the  living  and  the  dead, 
and  whose  kingdom  endureth  forever  and  for  aye, 
will  perform  when  he  shall  call  me  away  to 
another  life." 

It  is  easy  to  believe,  from  the  similarity  of  the 
two,  that  this  "Vision  of  Charles  the  Bald  "  fur- 
nished Dante  with  his  inspiration  for  the  "In- 
ferno." 

When  the  latter  first  appeared,  it  was  accepted 
by  the  credulous  and  ignorant  people  of  the  times 
as  a  veritable  history,  and  thereby  no  doubt 
exerted  a  good  influence  over  the  turbulent  and 
lawless  characters  of  that  period. 


FRANKLIN'S     PARABLE    AGAINST    PERSECU- 
TION. 

THE  following  parable  was  composed  by  Benja- 
min Franklin.  It  was  his  habit  to  call  for  a 
copy  of  the  Bible  and  read  it  as  a  portion  of  the 
Old  Testament,  and  it  is  so  like  the  Bible  in  style 
and  sentiment  that  he  had  no  difficulty  in  causing 
even  the  best  read  persons  to  suppose  that  it  was 
really  a  part  of  the  Scriptures.  It  sounds  very 
much  like  some  of  the  articles  in  the  Talmud, 
and  Franklin  may  have  borrowed  it.  But  no 
matter  where  it  came  from,  it  is  worth  reading 
and  preserving : 

i.  And  it  came  to  pass  after  these  things,  that 
Abraham  sat  in  the  door  of  his  tent,  about  the 
going  down  of  the  sun. 

2.  And  behold  a  man,  bowed  with  age,  came 
from  the  way  of  the  wilderness,  leaning  on  a 
staff. 

3.  And  Abraham  arose  and  met  him,  and  said 
unto  him,  "Turn  in,  I  pray  thee,  and  wash  tin- 
feet,  and  tarn-  all  night,  and  thou  shalt  arise 
early  on  the  morrow,  and  go  on  thy  way. 

4.  But  the  man  said,  "  Xay,  for  I  will  abide 
under  this  tree." 

5.  And  Abraham  pressed  him  greatly  ;  so  he 
turned,  and  they  went  into  the  tent,  and  Abraham 
baked  unleavened  bread,  and  they  did  eat. 

6.  And  when  Abraham  saw  that  the  man 
blessed  not  God,  he  said  unto  him,  "  Wherefore 
dost  thou  not  worship  the  most  higk  God,  Creator 
of  heaven  and  earth  ?" 

7.  And  the  man  answered  and  said,  "  I  do  not 
worship  the  God  thou  speakest  of,  neither  do  I 
call  upon  his  name  ■  for  I  have  made  to  myself  a 


god,  which  abideth  alway  in  mine  house,  and 
provideth  me  with  all  things." 

8.  And  Abraham's  zeal  was  kindled  against  the 
man,  and  he  arose  and  fell  upon  him,  and  drove 
him  forth  with  blows  into  the  wilderness. 

9.  And  at  midnight  God  called  unto  Abraham, 
saying,  "Abraham,  where  is  the  stranger?" 

10.  And  Abraham  answered  and  said,  "Lord, 
he  would  not  worship  thee,  neither  would  he  call 
upon  thy  name  ;  therefore  have  I  driven  him  out 
from  before  my  face  into  the  wilderness." 

11.  And  God  said,  "Have  I  borne  with  him 
these  hundred  ninety  and  eight  years,  and  nour- 
ished him,  and  clothed  him,  notwithstanding  his 
rebellion  against  me  ;  and  couldst  not  thou,  that 
art  thyself  a  sinner,  bear  with  him  one  night?" 

12.  And  Abraham  said,  "  Let  not  the  anger  of 
the  Lord  wax  hot  against  his  servant ;  lo,  I  have 
sinned  ;  forgive  me,  I  pray  thee." 

13.  And  Abraham  arose,  and  went  forth  into 
the  wilderness,  and  sought  diligently  for  the  man, 
and  found  him,  and  returned  with  him  to  the 
tent ;  and  when  he  had  entreated  him  kindly,  he 
sent  him  away  on  the  morrow  with  gifts. 

14.  And  God  spake  again  unto  Abraham,  say- 
ing, "  For  this  thy  sin  shall  thy  seed  be  afflicted 
four  hundred  years  in  a  strange  land  ; 

15.  "But  for  thy  repentance  will  I  deliver 
them  ;  and  they  shall  come  forth  with  power,  and 
with  gladness  of  heart,  and  with  much  sub- 
stance."   

JOHN   WESLEY'S   "PREACHMENT." 

7TVE  copy  the  following  interesting  description 
\XJ  of  Wesley's  personal  appearance  and  style 
of  preaching  from  the  journal  of  Samuel  Curwen, 
written  on  the  7th  and  14th  of  September,  1777  : 

In  the  afternoon,  walked  to  a  street  adjoining 
King's  square  to  attend  John  Wesley's  preach- 
ment ;  he  being  seated  on  a  decent  scaffold,  ad- 
dressed about  two  thousand  people,  consisting  of 
the  middle  and  lower  ranks.  The  preacher's  lan- 
guage was  plain  and  intelligible,  without  descend- 
ing to  vulgarisms. 

Sept.  14.  In  the  afternoon  I  attended  once  more. 
John  Wesley,  having  the  heavens  for  his  canopy  -, 
he  began  with  an  extempore  prayer,  followed  by 
a  hymn  of  his  own  composing,  and  adapted  to 
the  subject  of  his  discourse.  He  wears  his  own 
gray  hair,  or  a  wig  so  very  like  that  my  eye  could 
not  distinguish.     He  is  not  a  graceful  speaker  his 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


239 


voice  being  weak  and  harsh ;  he  is  attended  by 
great  numbers  of  the  middling  and  lower  classes ; 
is  said  to  have  humanized  the  almost  savage  col- 
liers of  Kingswood,  who,  before  his  time,  were 
almost  as  fierce  and  unmanageable  as  the  wild 
beasts  of  the  wilderness.  He  wears  an  Oxford 
master's  gown ;  his  attention  seemingly  not  di- 
rected to  manner  and  behavior, — not  rude,  but 
negligent,  dress  cleanly,  not  neat.  He  is  always 
visiting  the  numerous  societies  of  his  own  form- 
ing in  England,  Scotland,  Wales,  and  Ireland  ; 
though  near  eighty  years  old,  he  reads  without 
spectacles  the  smallest  print.  He  rises  at  four, 
preaches  every  day  at  five,  and  once  besides  ;  an 
uncommon  instance  of  physical  ability. 


A  HISTORY  OF  PSALM-SINGING. 

THE  history  of  psalm-singing  is  a  portion  of 
the  history  of  the  Reformation ;  of  that 
great  religious  revolution  which  separated  for 
ever,  into  two  unequal  divisions,  the  great  estab- 
lishment, of  Christianity.  Archbishop  Seeker  ob- 
serves, ' '  that  though  the  first  Christians  (from 
this  passage  in  James  v.  13,  'Is  any  merry?  let 
him  sing  psalms  !  ')  made  singing  a  constant 
part  of  their  worship,  and  the  whole  congregation 
joined  in  it ;  yet  afterwards  the  singers  by  profes- 
sion, who  had  been  prudently  appointed  to  lead 
and  direct  them,  by  degrees  usurped  the  whole  per- 
formance. But  at  the  Reformation  the  people 
were  restored  to  their  rights, ' '  after  which,  con- 
gregational singing  again  became  the  rule  among 
most  of  the  churches. 

To  trace  the  history  of  modern  metrical  psalmo- 
dy, we  must  have  recourse  to  Bayle,  who,  as  a 
mere  literary  historian,  has  accidentally  preserved 
it.  The  inventor  was  a  celebrated  French  poet, 
named  Clement  Marot ;  and  the  invention,  though 
perhaps  in  its  very  origin  inclining  towards  the 
abuse  to  which  it  was  afterwards  carried,  was  un- 
expectedly adopted  by  the  austere  Calvin,  and  in- 
troduced into  the  Geneva  discipline.  It  is  indeed 
strange,  that  while  he  was  stripping  religion  not 
merely  of  its  pageantry,  but  even  of  its  decent 
ceremonies,  that  this  levelling  reformer  should 
have  introduced  this  taste  for  singing  psalms  in 
opposition  to  reading  psalms.  "On  a  parallel 
principle,"  says  Thomas  Warton,  "  and  if  any 
artificial  aids  to  devotion  were  to  be  allowed,  he 
might  at  least  have  retained  the  use  of  pictures 


in  the  church."  But  it  was  decreed  that  statues 
should  be  mutilated  of  "  their  fair  proportions," 
and  painted  glass  be  dashed  into  pieces  while  the 
congregation  were  to  sing  !  "Calvin,"  says  the 
same  writer,  "sought  for  proselytes  among  the 
rabble  of  a  republic,  who  can  have  no  relish  for 
the  more  elegant  externals."  But  to  have  made 
men  sing  in  concert,  in  the  streets,  or  at  their 
work,  and  merry,  or  sad,  on  all  occasions  to  tickle 
the  ear  with  rhymes  and  touch  the  heart  with 
emotion,  was  betraying  no  deficient  knowledge  of 
human  nature, 

The  following  is  a  sample  of  one  of  Marot' s 
' '  psalms, ' '  selected  from  his  holy  song-book  : 

Thrice  happy  the}',  who  may  behold, 
And  listen,  in  that  age  of  gold  ! 
As  by  the  plough  the  labourer  strays, 
And  carman  mid  the  public  ways, 
And  tradesman  in  his  shop  shall  swell 
Their  voice  in  Psalm  or  Canticle, 
Singing  to  solace  toil ;  again, 
From  woods  shall  come  a  sweeter  strain " 
Shepherd  and  shepherdess  shall  vie 
In  many  a  tender  Psalmody ; 
And  the  Creator's  name  prolong 
As  rock  and  stream  return  their  song  ! 

Begin  then,  ladies  fair  !  begin 
The  age  renew'd  that  knows  no  sin  ! 
And  with  light  heart,  that  wants  no  wing, 
Sing  !  from  this  holy  song-book,  sing. 

This  "  holy  song-book"  for  the  harpsichord  or 
the  voice  was  a  gay  novelty,  and  no  book  was  ever 
more  eagerly  received  by  all  classes  than  Marot's 
"  Psalms."  In  the  fervour  of  that  day,  they  sold 
faster  than  the  printers  could  take  them  off  their 
presses  ;  but  as  the3T  were  understood  to  be  songs, 
and  yet  were  not  accompanied  by  music,  every 
one  set  them  to  favourite  tunes,  commonly  those 
of  popular  ballads.  Each  of  the  royal  iamily, 
and  every  nobleman,  chose  a  psalm  or  a  song, 
which  expressed  his  own  personal  feelings, 
adapted  to  his  own  tune.  The  Dauphin,  after- 
wards Henry  II.,  a  hunter,  when  he  went  to  the 
chase,  was  singing  Ainsi  qiC on  vit  Ic  cerf  beuvre. 
"  Like  as  the  hart  desireth  the  water-brooks." 

The  Queen  of  France  adopted  for  herself  a 
psalm  under  the  title  of  ' '  Rebuke  me  not  in  Thy 
indignation,"  which  she  sang  to  the  tune  of  a 
fashionable  jig  ;  while  the  King  of  Xavarre  sang 
for  himself,  "  Stand  up,  O  Lord,  to  revenge  my 
quarrel,"  to  the  air  of  a  popular  dance. 

Catharine  de  Medicis  had  her  psalm,  and  nearly 


> 

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6. 
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W 

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§ 

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THE   BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


241 


all  her  courtiers  adopted  some  particular  one  for 
themselves,  which  they  often  played  on  lutes, 
guitars,  etc.  Singing  psalms  in  verse  was  thus  a 
favorite  social  amusement. 

The  universal  reception  of  Marot's  psalms  in- 
duced Theodore  Beza  to  complete  the  collection, 
and  ten  thousand  copies  were  immediately  dis- 
persed. These  had  the  advantage  of  being  set  to 
music,  for  we  are  told  they  were  "  admirably  fitted 
to  the  violins  and  other  musical  instruments. ' ' 

And  who  was  the  man  who  had  thus  adroitly 
taken  hold  of  the  public  feeling  to  give  it  this 
strong  direction  ?  It  was  the  solitary  and  ascetic 
Calvin,  who,  from  the  depth  of  his  closet  at 
Geneva,  had  engaged  the  finest  musical  composers, 
who  were  no  doubt  warmed  by  the  zeal  of  propa- 
gating his  faith,  to  form  these  simple  and  beautiful 
airs  to  assist  the  Psalm  singers.  At  first  this  was 
not  discovered,  and  Catholics  as  well  as  Huguenots, 
were  solacing  themselves  on  all  occasions  with 
this  new  music.  But  when  Calvin  appointed 
these  Psalms,  as  set  to  music,  to  be  sung  at  his 
meetings,  and  Marot's  formed  an  appendix  to  the 
Catechism  of  Geneva,  this  put  an  end  to  all 
Psalm  singing  for  the  Catholics  !  Marot  himself 
was  forced  to  fly  to  Geneva  from  the  fulminations 
of  the  Sorbonne,  and  Psalm  singing  became  an 
open  declaration  of  what  the  French  called 
' '  Lutherauism, ' '  when  it  became  with  the  reformed 
a  regular  part  of  their  religious  discipline.  The 
Cardinal  of  Lorraine  succeeded  in  persuading  the 
lovely  patroness  of  the  "  holy  song  book,"  Diana 
de  Poictiers,  who  at  first  was  a  Psalm  singer  and 
an  heretical  reader  of  the  Bible,  to  discountenance 
this  new  fashion.  He  began  by  finding  fault  with 
the  Psalms  of  David,  and  revived  the  amatory 
elegancies  of  Horace  :  at  that  moment  even  the 
reading  of  the  Bible  was  symptomatic  of  Luther- 
anism  ;  Diana,  who  had  given  way  to  these 
novelties,  would  have  a  French  Bible,  because  the 
queen,  Catharine  de  Medicis,  had  one,  and  the 
Cardinal  finding  a  Bible  on  her  table,  immediately 
crossed  himself,  beat  his  breast,  and  otherwise  so 
well  acted  his  part,  that,  "having  thrown  the 
Bible  down  and  condemned  it,  he  remonstrated 
with  the  fair  penitent,  that  it  was  a  kind  of  read- 
ing not  adapted  for  her  sex,  containing  dangerous 
matters  ;  if  she  was  uneasy  in  her  mind  she  should 
hear  two  masses  instead  of  one,  and  rest  content 
with  her  Paternosters  and  her  Primer,  which  were 
not  only  devotional  but  ornamented  with  a  variety 
16 


of  elegant  forms  from  the  most  exquisite  pencils 
of  France. ' '  Such  is  the  story  drawn  from  a  cu- 
rious letter,  written  by  a  Huguenot,  and  a  former 
friend  of  Catharine  de  Medicis,  and  by  which  we 
may  infer  that  the  reformed  religion  was  making 
considerable  progress  in  the  French  court, — had 
the  Cardinal  of  Lorraine  not  interfered  by  per- 
suading the  mistress,  and  she  the  king,  and  the 
king  his  queen,  at  once  to  give  up  Psalm  singing 
and  the  reading  of  the  Bible  ! 

"  This  infectious  frenzy  of  Psalm  singing,"  as 
Warton  describes  it,  under  the  Calvinistic  preach- 
ers, had  rapidly  propagated  itself  through  Germany 
as  well  as  France.  It  was  admirably  calculated 
to  kindle  the  flame  of  religious  enthusiasm,  and 
frequently  served  as  the  trumpet  to  rebellion." 
These  energetic  hymns  of  Geneva  excited  and 
supported  a  variety  of  popular  instructions  in  the 
most  flourishing  cities  of  the  Low  Countries,  and 
what  our  poetical  antiquary  could  never  forgive, 
' '  fomented  the  fury  which  defaced  many  of  the 
most  beautiful  and  venerable  churches  of  Flan- 
ders. ' ' 

At  length  it  reached  England  at  the  critical 
moment  when  it  had  first  embraced  the  Reforma- 
tion ;  and  here  its  domestic  history  was  paralleled 
with  its  foreign,  except,  perhaps,  in  the  splendor 
of  its  success.  Sternhold,  an  enthusiast  for  the 
reformation,  was  much  offended,  says  Warton,  at 
the  lascivious  ballads  which  prevailed  among  the 
courtiers,  and  with  a  laudable  design  to  check 
these  indecencies,  he  undertook  to  be  the  English 
Marot — without  his  genius  ;  ' '  thinking  thereby, ' ' 
says  the  cynical  literary  historian,  Antony  Wood, 
' '  that  the  courtiers  would  sing  them  instead  of 
their  sonnets  bid  did  not,  only  some  few  excepted. ' ' 
They  were  practised  by  the  Puritans  in  the  reign 
of  Elizabeth  ;  for  Shakespeare  notices  the  Puritan 
of  his  day  "singing  Psalms  to  hornpipes,"  and 
more  particularly  during  the  protectorate  of 
Cromwell,  on  the  same  plan  of  accommodating 
them  to  popular  tunes  and  jigs,  which  one  of  them 
said  ' '  were  too  good  for  the  devil. ' '  Psalms  were 
now  sung  at  Lord  Mayor  dinners  and  city  feasts  ; 
soldiers  sang  them  on  their  march  and  at  parade  ; 
a  few  houses  which  had  windows  fronting  the 
streets,  but  had  their  evening  psalms  ;  for  a  story 
has  come  down  to  us,  to  record  that  the  good 
brethren  did  not  always  care  to  sing  unless  they 
were  heard  !  a  failing  that  still  obtains  to  some 
extent. 


242 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


SECRET  HISTORY  OF  SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH. 

t^ALEIGH  exercised  in  perfection  incorruptible 
iy  talents,  and  his  character  connects  the  op- 
posite extremes  of  our  nature.  His  "Book  of 
l,ife, ' '  with  its  incidents  of  prosperity  and  adversity, 
of  glory  and  humiliation,  was  as  checkered  as 
the  novelist  could  desire  for  a  tale  of  fiction. 
From  his  earliest  days  he  betrayed  the  genius  of 
an  adventurer,  which  prevailed  in  his  character 
to  the  last  ;  and  degraded  by  its  littleness  the 
grandeur  of  a  character  which  was  closed  by  a 
splendid  death,  worthy  the  life  of  the  wisest  and 
the  greatest  of  mankind  ! 

The  sunshine  of  his  days  was  in  the  reign  of 
Elizabeth.  From  a  boy,  always  dreaming  of 
romantic  conquests,  for  he  was  born  in  an  age  of 
heroism  ;  and  formed  by  nature  for  the  chivalric 
gallantry  of  the  court  of  a  maiden  queen,  from 
the  moment  he  with  such  infinite  art  cast  his  rich 
mantle  over  the  miry  spot,  his  life  was  a  progress 
of  glory.  All  about  Raleigh  was  splendid  as 
the  dress  he  wore  :  his  female  sovereign,  whose 
eyes  loved  to  dwell  on  men  who  might  have  been 
fit  subjects  for  "the  Faerie  Queen"  of  Spenser, 
penurious  of  reward,  only  recompensed  her  favor- 
ites by  suffering  them  to  make  their  own  fortunes 
on  sea  and  land  ;  and  Elizabeth  listened  to  the 
glowing  projects  of  her  hero,  indulging  that  spirit 
which  could  have  conquered  the  world,  to  lay  the 
toy  at  the  feet  of  the  sovereign  ! 

This  man,  this  extraordinary  being,  who  was 
prodigal  of  his  life  and  fortune  on  the  Spanish 
main,  in  the  idleness  of  peace  could  equally  di- 
rect his  invention  to  supply  the  domestic  wants 
of  everyday  life,  in  his  project  of  "  an  office  for 
address."  Nothing  was  too  high  for  his  ambi- 
tion, nor  too  humble  for  his  genius.  Pre-eminent 
as  a  military  and  a  naval  commander,  as  a  states- 
man and  a  student,  Raleigh  was  as  intent  on 
forming  the  character  of  Prince  Henry,  as  that 
prince  was  studious  of  moulding  his  own  aspiring 
qualities  by  the  genius  of  the  friend  whom  he  con- 
templated. Yet  the  active  life  of  Raleigh  is  not 
more  remarkable  than  his  contemplative  one.  He 
may  well  rank  among  the  founders  of  our  litera- 
ture :  for  composing  on  a  subject  exciting  little 
interest,  his  fine  genius  has  sealed  his  unfinished 
volume  with  immortality.  For  magnificence  of 
eloquence,  and  massiveness  of  thought,  we  must 
still  dwell  on  his  pages.  Such  was  the  man,  who 
was   the  adored  patron  of  Spenser  ;  whom  Ben 


Jonson,  proud  of  calling  other  favourites  "his 
sons,"  honoured  by  the  title  of  "his  father;" 
and  who  left  political  instructions  which  Milton 
deigned  to  edit. 

A  letter  written  at  that  time  records  the  follow- 
ing characteristic  incident  illustrative  of  the  arti- 
fices to  which  Raleigh  occasionally  stooped  for 
the  purpose  of  gaining  his  ends  : 

When,  under  Elizabeth,  he  was  once  in  con- 
finement, and  it  appears,  that  seeing  the  queen 
passing  by,  he  was  suddenly  seized  with  a  strange 
resolution  of  combating  with  the  governor  and 
his  people  ;  declaring  that  the  mere  sight  of  the 
queen  had  made  him  desperate,  as  a  confined 
lover  would  feel  at  the  sight  of  his  mistress.  The 
writer  gives  a  minute  narrative  of  Sir  Walter's 
astonishing  conduct,  and  carefully  repeats  the 
wann  romantic  style  in  which  he  talked  of  his 
royal  mistress,  and  his  formal  resolution  to  die 
rather  than  exist  out  of  her  presence.  This  ex- 
travagant scene,  with  all  its  colouring,  was  most 
elaborately  penned,  with  a  hint  to  the  person 
whom  the  writer  addresses,  to  suffer  it  to 
meet  the  eye  of  their  royal  mistress,  who  could 
not  fail  of  admiring  our  new  ' '  Orlando  Furioso  ; ' ' 
and  she  soon  after  released  this  tender  prisoner  ! 

The  letter  referred  to  was  doubtless  written  by 
Raleigh  himself,  under  an  arrangement  with  the 
person  to  whom  it  was  addressed,  whereby  it  pur- 
posely fell  into  the  queen's  hands,  with  the  happy 
result  that  was  anticipated  and  intended. 

On  another  occasion,  while  Raleigh  was  im- 
prisoned in  the  Tower  for  the  Cobham  conspiracy, 
an  examination  took  place,  and  an  incident  oc- 
curred which  is  thus  described  by  Lord  Cecil  : 

"One  afternoon,  while  diverse  of  us  were  in 
the  Tower  examining  some  of  these  prisoners,  Sir 
Walter  attempted  to  murder  himself ;  whereof 
when  we  were  advertised,  we  came  to  him  and 
found  him  in  some  agony  to  be  unable  to  endure 
his  misfortunes,  and  protesting  innocency,  with 
carelessness  of  life  ;  and  in  that  humour  he  had 
wounded  himself  under  the  rigid  breast,  but  no  way 
mortally,  being  in  truth  rather  a  cut  than  a  stab,  and 
now  very  well  cured  both  in  body  and  mind." 

When  Raleigh  returned  from  his  wild  and  des- 
perate voyage  to  Guiana,  he  found  misery  in  every 
shape  about  him.  His  son  had  perished,  his 
friends  were  deserting  him,  and,  without  fortune 
or  hope,  in  sickness  and  sorrow,  he  brooded  over 
the  sad  thought  that  in  the  hatred  of  the  Span- 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


243 


iards  and  the  political  pusillanimity  of  King 
James,  he  was  arriving  only  to  meet  inevitable 
death. 

He  landed  in  his  native  county  of  Devon, 
and  having  settled  his  affairs,  he  set  off  for 
London,  in  obedience  to  the  king's  proclamation. 
On  the  way  he  was  met  and  placed  under  surveil- 
lance by  Sir  Lewis  Stucley,  Vice-Admiral  of 
Devon,  and  a  kinsman  of  Sir  Walter.  Stucley 
was  accompanied  by  a  Frenchman  named  Ma- 
noury,  who  was  sent  to  act  the  part  of  spy,  and 
report  to  the  authorities  anything  that  might  ap- 
pear suspicious  in  the  conduct  or  actions  of  the 
distinguished  prisoner.  They  proceeded  together 
to  London,  where  for  a  time,  by  the  king's  per- 
mission, Sir  Walter  was  allowed  to  reside  in  his 
own  house,  but  still  under  the  surveillance  of 
Stucley  and  the  Frenchman. 

At  first  he  suspected  that  Manoury  was  one  of 
those  instruments  of  state,  who  are  sometimes 
employed  when  open  measures  are  not  to  be  pur- 
sued, or  when  the  cabinet  have  not  yet  determined 
on  the  fate  of  a  person  implicated  in  a  state  crime ; 
in  a  word,  Raleigh  thought  that  Manoury  was  a 
spy  over  him,  and  probably  over  Stucley  too. 
The  first  impression  of  these  matters  is  usually 
the  right  one  ;  but  when  Raleigh  found  himself 
caught  in  the  toils,  he  imagined  that  such  corrupt 
agents  were  to  be  corrupted.  The  French  em- 
piric was  sounded,  and  found  very  compliant ; 
Raleigh  was  desirous  by  his  aid  to  counterfeit 
sickness,  and  for  this  purpose  invented  a  series  of 
the  most  humiliating  stratagems.  He  imagined 
that  a  constant  appearance  of  sickness  might  pro- 
duce delay,  and  procrastination,  in  the  chapter  of 
accidents,  might  end  in  pardon.  He  procured 
vomits  from  the  Frenchman,  and  whenever  he 
chose,  produced  every  appearance  of  sickness ; 
with  dimness  of  sight,  dizziness  in  his  head,  he 
reeled  about,  and  once  struck  himself  with  such 
violence  against  a  pillar  in  the  gallery,  that  there 
was  no  doubt  of  his  malady.  Raleigh's  servant 
one  morning  entered  Stucley  s  chamber,  and  de- 
clared that  his  master  was  out  of  his  senses,  for 
that  he  had  just  left  him  in  his  shirt  upon  all 
fours,  gnawing  the  rushes  from  the  floor.  On 
Stucley' s  entrance,  Raleigh  was  raving,  and  reel- 
ing in  strong  convulsions.  Stucley  ordered  him 
to  be  chafed  and  fomented,  and  Raleigh  after- 
wards laughed  at  this  ludicrous  scene,  observing 
that  he  had  made  Stucley  a  perfect  physician. 


But  Raleigh  found  it  required  some  more  visible 
and  alarming  disease  than  such  ridiculous  scenes 
had  exhibited.  The  vomits  worked  so  slowly 
that  Manoury  was  fearful  to  repeat  the  doses.  Sir 
Walter  inquired  whether  the  empiric  knew  of  any 
preparations  which  could  make  him  look  ghastly, 
without  injuring  his  health.  The  Frenchman 
offered  a  harmless  ointment  to  act  on  the  surface 
of  the  skin,  which  would  give  him  the  appearance 
of  a  leper.  "That  will  do  !  "  said  Raleigh,  "for 
the  lords  will  be  afraid  to  approach  me  ;  and  be- 
sides, it  will  move  their  pit}'."  Applying  the 
ointment  to  his  brows,  his  arms,  and  his  breast, 
the  blisters  rose,  the  skin  inflamed,  and  was 
covered  with  purple  spots.  Stucley  concluded 
that  Raleigh  had  the  plague.  Physicians  were 
now  called  in  ;  Raleigh  took  the  black  silk  ribbon 
from  his  poinard,  and  Manoury  tightened  it 
strongly  about  his  arm,  to  disorder  his  pulse,  but  it 
beat  too  strong  and  regular.  He  appeared  to  take 
no  food,  while  Manoury  secretly  provided  him. 
The  physicians  pronounced  the  disease  mortal,  and 
that  the  patient  could  not  be  removed  into  the  aii 
without  immediate  danger.  Awhile  after,  being 
in  his  bed-chamber  undressed,  and  no  one  present 
but  Manoury,  Sir  Walter  held  a  looking-glass  in 
his  hand,  to  admire  his  spotted  face,  and  observed 
in  merriment  to  his  new  confidant,  how  they 
should  one  day  laugh  for  having  thus  cozened  the 
king,  council,  physicians,  Spaniards  and  all.  The 
excuse  Raleigh  offered  for  this  course  of  poor  stra- 
tagems, so  unworthy  of  his  genius,  was  to  obtain 
time  and  seclusion  for  writing  his  apology,  or 
vindication  of  his  voyage,  which  has  come  down 
to  us  in  his  "Remains."  "The  prophet  David 
did  make  himself  a  fool,  and  suffered  spittle  to 
fall  upon  his  beard,  to  escape  from  the  hands  of 
his  enemies,"  said  Raleigh  in  his  last  speech. 
Brutus,  too,  was  another  example.  But  his  dis- 
cernment often  prevailed  over  this  mockery  of  his 
spirits.  The  king  licensed  him  to  reside  at  his 
own  house  on  his  arrival  in  London  ;  on  which 
Manoury  observed,  that  the  king  showed  by  his 
indulgence  that  his  majesty  was  favorably  inclined 
towards  him;  but  Raleigh  replied,  "They  used 
all  these  kinds  of  flatteries  to  the  Duke  of  Biron, 
to  draw  him  fairly  into  prison,  and  then  they  cut 
off  his  head.  I  know  they  have  concluded  among 
them,  that  it  is  expedient  that  a  man  should  die, 
to  reassure  the  traffic  which  I  have  broke  with 
Spain.     And  Manoury  adds,  from  whose  narrative 


244 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


we  have  all  these  particulars,  that  Sir  Walter 
broke  out  in  this  raut :  "If  he  could  but  save 
himself  for  this  time,  he  would  plot  such  plots  as 
would  make  the  king  think  himself  happy  to  send 
for  him  again,  and  restore  him  to  his  estate,  and 
would  force  the  king  of  Spain  to  write  to  England 
in  his  favor. ' ' 

Raleigh  at  length  proposed  a  flight  to  France 
with  Manoury,  who  then  revealed  to  Stucley  what 
he  had  hitherto  concealed  from  him,  and  Raleigh 
soon  perceived  that  he  had  two  rogues  to  bribe 
instead  of  one,  and  that  they  were  playing  into 
one  another's  hands.  For  the  purpose  of  bribing 
him,  Sir  Walter  presented  Stucley  with  "a  jewel 
made  in  the  fashion  of  hair  powdered  with  dia- 
monds, with  a  ruby  in  the  midst."  But  Stucley 
observed  that  if  he  allowed  his  friend  and  kins- 
man to  escape  it  would  cost  him  his  office,  which 
was  worth  ,£6oo,  to  which  Raleigh  replied  that  he 
should  be  no  loser,  for  that  his  wife  would  pay 
him  ^1000  when  they  had  safely  reached  France 
or  Holland. 

About  this  time  the  Frenchman  took  his  leave  ; 
the  part  he  had  to  act  was  performed  ;  the  juggle 
was  complete,  and  two  wretches  had  triumphed 
over  the  sagacity  and  magnanimity  of  a  sage  and 
hero,  whom  misfortune  had  levelled  him  to  folly. 

But  the  story  does  not  here  conclude,  for  the 
treacheries  of  Stucley  were  more  intricate.  This 
villain  had  obtained  a  warrant  of  indemnity,  to 
authorize  his  compliance  with  any  offer  to  assist 
Raleigh  in  his  escape.  This  miserable  wretch 
was  both  the  confidant  and  the  executioner  of 
Raleigh  ;  he  carried  about  him  a  license  to  betray 
him,  and  was  making  profit  of  the  victim  before 
delivering  him  to  the  sacrifice.  Arrangements 
were  made  to  secure  a  boat  at  Tilbury,  in  which 
Sir  Walter  could  escape,  the  price  agreed  upon 
being  ' '  thirty  pieces  of  silver. ' '  Stucley  betraj'ed 
the  plot  to  his  cousin,  William  Herbert,  and  the 
two  Judases  kept  their  treachery  as  a  family  affair. 
The  night  for  the  flight  was  fixed,  but  Sir  Walter, 
blinded  as  to  Stucley's  real  motive,  insisted  that 
he  should  accompany  him.  The  party  met  at 
the  appointed  place,  Raleigh  being  in  disguise. 
They  had  not  rowed  twenty  strokes  before  the 
boatmen  observed  that  Mr.  Herbert  had  lately 
taken  boat,  and  made  toward  the  bridge,  but  had 
returned  down  the  river  after  them. 

At  this  Raleigh  became  apprehensive,  and 
wished  to  return  home,  while  the  boatmen  became 


greatly  frightened,  for  they  clearty  perceived  that 
something  unusual  was  in  progress,  which  might 
result  iu  danger  to  them.  Stucley  acted  his  part 
well,  cursing  his  ill-fortune  in  having  a  friend, 
whom  he  was  anxious  to  save,  so  full  of  doubts 
and  fears,  and  threatening  to  pistol  the  boatmen 
if  they  did  not  proceed.  Thus  menaced,  they 
rowed  a  mile  beyond  Woolwich,  approaching  two 
or  three  ketches,  when  King,  the  boatswain, 
doubted  whether  any  of  these  were  the  one  he 
had  provided  to  furnish  them.  "We  are  be- 
trayed!" cried  Raleigh,  and  ordered  the  water- 
men to  row  back :  he  strictly  examined  the  boat- 
swain, alas  !  his  ingenuity  was  baffled  b}'  a  shuf- 
fling villain,  whose  real  answer  appeared  when  a 
wherry  hailed  the  boat  ;  Raleigh  observed  that 
it  contained  Herbert's  crew.  He  saw  that  all 
was  now  discovered.  He  took  Stucley  aside  ;  his 
ingenious  mind  still  suggesting  projects  for  him- 
self to  return  home  in  safety,  or  how  Stucley 
might  plead  that  he  had  only  pretended  to  go 
with  Raleigh,  to  seize  on  his  private  papers. 
They  whispered  together,  and  Raleigh  took 
some  things  from  his  pocket,  and  handed  them 
to  Stucley  ;  probably  more  ' '  rubies  powdered 
with  diamonds. '  '—Some  effect  was  instantaneously 
produced  ;  for  the  tender  heart  of  his  friend  Stuc- 
ley relented,  and  he  not  only  repeatedly  embraced 
him  with  extraordinary  warmth  of  affection,  but 
was  voluble  in  effusions  of  friendship  and  fidelity. 
Stucley  persuaded  Raleigh  to  land  af  Grave- 
send,  the  strange  wherry  which  had  dogged  them 
landing  at  the  same  time  ;  these  were  people  be- 
longing to  Mr.  Herbert  and  Sir  William  St.  John, 
who,  it  seems,  had  formerly  shared  in  the  spoils 
of  this  unhappy  hero.  On  Greenwich  bridge, 
Stucley  advised  Captain  King  that  it  would  be 
advantageous  to  Sir  Walter,  that  King  should 
confess  that  he  had  joined  with  Stucley  to  be- 
tray his  master ;  and  Raleigh  lent  himself  to> 
the  suggestion  of  Stucley,  of  whose  treachery  he 
might  still  be  uncertain  ;  but  King,  a  rough 
and  honest  seamen,  declared  that  he  would  not 
share  iu  the  odium.  At  the  moment  he  refused, 
Stucley  arrested  the  captain  in  the  king's  name, 
committing  him  to  the  charge  of  Herbert's  men. 
They  then  proceeded  to  a  tavern,  but  Raleigh, 
who  now  viewed  the  monster  in  his  true  shape, 
observed,  "Sir  Lewis,  these  actions  will  not  turn 
out  to  your  credit ; ' '  and  on  the  following  day, 
when  they  passed   through  the   Tower-gate,  Ra- 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


245 


leigh,  turning  to  King,  observed,  "Stucley  and 
my  servant  Cotterell  have  betrayed  me.  You 
need  be  in  no  fear  of  danger,  but  as  for  me,  it 
is  I  who  am  the  mark  that  is  shot  at."  The 
fate  of  Raleigh  soon  verified  the  prediction. 

This  long  narrative  of  treachery  will  not,  how- 
ever, be  complete,  unless  we  wind  it  up  with 
the  fate  of  the  infamous  Stuck)-.  Fiction  gives 
perfection  to  its  narratives,  by  the  privilege  it 
enjoys  of  disposing  of  its  criminals  in  the  most 
exemplary  manner ;  but  the  labours  of  the  his- 
torian are  not  always  refreshed  by  this  moral 
pleasure. 

Raleigh,  in  his  admirable  address  from  the 
scaffold,  where  he  seemed  to  be  rather  one  of  the 
spectators  than  the  sufferer,  declared  he  forgave 
Sir  Lewis,  for  he  had  forgiven  all  men  ;  but  he 
was  bound  in  charity  to  caution  all  men  against 
him,  and  such  as  he  is  !  Raleigh's  lait  and  sol- 
emn notice  of  the  treachery  of  his  ' '  kinsman  and 
friend  "  was  irrevocably  fatal  to  this  wretch.  The 
hearts  of  the  people  were  open  to  the  deepest  im- 
pressions of  sympathy,  melting  into  tears  at  the 
pathetic  address  of  the  magnanimous  spirit  who 
had  touched  them  ;  in  one  moment  Sir  L,ewis 
Stucley  became  an  object  of  execration  through- 
out the  nation  ;  he  soon  obtained  a  new  title,  that 
of  "  Sir  Judas,"  and  was  shunned  by  every  man. 
To  remove  the  Cain-like  mark,  which  God  and 
men  had  fixed  on  him,  he  published  an  apology 
for  his  conduct,  in  which  he  pleaded  in  justifica- 
tion of  his  perfidy  that  he  was  a  state  agent ;  that 
it  was  lawful  to  lie  for  the  discover)'  of  treason  ; 
that  he  had  a  personal  hatred  towards  Raleigh, 
for  having  abridged  his  father  of  his  share  of 
some  prize-money  ;  and  then  he  entered  more  into 
Raleigh's  character,  who  "being  desperate  of 
any  fortune  here,  agreeable  to  the  height  of  his 
mind,  would  have  made  up  his  fortune  elsewhere, 
upon  any  terms  against  his  sovereign  and  his 
country.  "  Is  it  not  man-el,"  continues  the  personi- 
fier  of  Stucley,  ' '  that  he  was  angry  with  me  at 
his  death  for  bringing  him  back  ?  Besides,  being 
a  man  of  so  great  a  wit,  it  was  no  small  grief,  that 
a  man  of  mean  wit  as  I,  should  be  thought  to  go 
beyond  him,"  all  of  which  is  the  mere  subterfuge 
of  a  coward  and  villain. 

To  keep  up  appearances,  Sir  Judas  resorted 
more  than  usual  to  court ;  where,  however,  he 
was  perpetually  enduring  rebuffs,  or  avoided,  as 
one  infected  with  the  plague  of  treachery.     He 


offered  the  king,  in  his  own  justification,  to  take 
the  sacrament,  that  whatever  he  had  laid  to  Ra- 
leigh's charge  was  true,  and  would  produce  two 
unexceptionable  witnesses  to  do  the  like.  ' '  Why, 
then,"  replied  his  majesty,  "  the  more  malicious 
was  Sir  Walter  to  utter  these  speeches  at  his 
death."  Sir  Thomas  Badger,  who  stood  by,  ob- 
served, "I^et  the  king  take  off  Stucley' s  head,  as 
Stucley  has  done  Sir  Walter's,  and  let  him  at  his 
death  take  the  sacrament  and  his  oath  upon  it, 
and  I'll  believe  him  ;  but  till  Stucley  loses  his 
head,  I  shall  credit  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  bare 
affirmative  before  a  thousand  of  Stucley 's  oaths. 
When  Stuck)-,  on  pretence  of  giving  an  account 
of  his  office,  placed  himself  in  the  audience  cham- 
ber of  the  lord  admiral,  and  his  lordship  passed 
him  without  any  notice,  Sir  Judas  attempted  tc 
address  the  earl ;  but  with  a  bitter  look  his  lord- 
ship exclaimed,  "  Base  fellow  !  darest  thou,  who 
art  the  scorn  and  contempt  of  men,  offer  thyself 
in  my  presence?  Were  it  not  in  my  own  house,  I 
would  cudgel  thee  with  my  staff  for  presuming 
on  this  sauciness."  This  annihilating  affront 
Stucley  hastened  to  convey  to  the  king  ;  his  ma- 
jesty answered  him,  "What  wouldst  thou  have 
me  do  ?  Wouldst  thou  have  me  hang  him  ?  On 
my  soul,  if  I  should  hang  all  that  speak  ill  of 
thee,  all  fie  trees  of  the  country  would  not  suffice, 
so  great  is  the  number  !" 

One  of  the  crimes  of  that  age,  ere  the  forgery 
of  bank-notes  existed,  was  the  clipping  of  gold  ; 
and  this  was  one  of  the  private  amusements  suita- 
ble to  the  character  cr  Sir  Judas.  Treachery  and 
forger)'  are  the  same  crime  in  a  different  form. 
Stucley  received  out  of  the  exchequer  five  hun- 
dred pounds,  as  the  reward  of  his  espionage  and 
perfidy.  It  was  the  price  of  blood,  and  was  hardly 
in  his  hands  ere  it  was  turned  into  the  fraudulent 
coin  of  "the  Cheater!"  He  was  seized  in  the 
palace  of  Whitehall,  for  diminishing  the  gold  coin. 
"The  manner  of  the  discover)',"  says  the  manu- 
script-writer, "  was  strange,  if  my  occasions  would 
suffer  me  to  relate  the  particulars."  On  his  ex- 
amination he  attempted  to  shift  the  crime  to  his 
own  son,  who  fled,  and  on  his  man,  who  being 
taken,  in  the  words  of  the  letter-writer,  was 
"willing  to  set  the  saddle  upon  the  right  horse, 
and  accused  his  master."  Manoury,  too,  the 
French  empiric,  was  arrested  at  Plymouth  for  the 
same  crime,  and  accused  his  worthy  friend.  But 
such  was  the  interest  of  Stucley  with  government, 


24G 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND  THE 


bought  probabl}-  with  his  last  shilling,  and,  as 
one  says,  with  his  last  shirt,  that  he  obtained  his 
own,  and  his  son's  pardon,  for  crimes  that  ought 
to  have  finally  concluded  the  history  of  this 
blessed  famil}-.  A  more  solemn  and  tragical  ca- 
tastrophe was  reserved  for  the  perfidious  Stucley. 
He  was  deprived  of  his  place  of  vice-admiral,  and 
left  destitute  in  the  world.  Abandoned  by  all 
human  beings,  by  the  son  whom  he  had  tutored 
in  the  arts  of  villain}-,  he  appears  to  have  wan- 
dered about  an  infamous  and  distracted  beggar. 
It  is  also  recorded  that  "in  August,  1620,  Lewis 
Stucley,  who  betrayed  Sir  Water  Raleigh,  died 
in  a  manner  mad.''  Such  is  the  catastrophe  of 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  domestic  tales  ;  an 
historical  example  not  easily  paralleled  in  the  an- 
nals of  retribution. 

The  close  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  life  was  as 
extraordinary  as  many  parts  of  his  varied  history. 
The  promptitude  and  uprightness  of  his  genius, 
his  carelessness  of  life,  and  the  equanimity  of  his 
great  spirit  in  quitting  the  world,  are  only  equalled 
by  a  few  other  heroes  and  sages. 

Raleigh  one  morning  was  taken  out  of  his 
bed  in  a  fit  of  fever,  and  unexpectedly  hurried, 
not  to  his  trial,  but  to  a  sentence  of  death.  The 
story  is  well  known.  Yet  pleading  with  "  a  voice 
grown  weak  by  sickness  and  an  ague  he  had  at 
that  instant  on  him,"  he  used  every  means  to  avert 
his  fate  ;  he  did,  therefore  value  the  life  he  could 
so  easily  part  with.  His  judges  there  at  least, 
respected  their  state  criminal,  and  they  addressed 
him  in  a  tone  far  different  from  that  which  he  had 
fifteen  years  before  listened  to  from  Coke.  Yel- 
verton,  the  attorney-general,  said,  "Sir  Walter 
Raleigh  hath  been  as  a  star  at  which  the  world 
have  gazed ;  but  stars  may  fall,  nay,  they  must  fall, 
when  they  trouble  the  sphere  where  they  abide." 
And  the  lord  chief-justice  noticed  Raleigh's 
great  work  :  "I  know  that  you  have  been  valiant 
and  wise,  and  I  doubt  not  but  you  retain  both 
these  virtues,  for  now  you  shall  have  occasion  to 
use  them.  Your  book  is  an  admirable  work  ;  I 
would  give  you  counsel,  but  I  know  3-011  can 
apply  unto  yourself  far  better  than  I  am  able  to 
give  you."  But  the  judge  ended  with  saying, 
"  Execution  is  granted."  It  was  stifling  Raleigh 
with  roses  !  the  heroic  sage  felt  as  if  listening  to 
fame  from  the  voice  of  death. 

He  declared,  that  now  being  old,  sickly,  and  in 
disgrace,  and  certain  were  he  allowed  to  live,  to  go 


to  it  again,  life  was  wearisome  to  him,  and  all  he  en- 
treated was  to  have  leave  to  speak  freely  at  his 
farewell,  to  satisfy  the  world  that  he  was  ever 
loyal  to  the  king,  and  a  true  lover  of  the  com- 
monwealth ;  for  this  he  would  seal  with  his 
blood. 

Raleigh,  on  his  return  to  prison,  while  some 
were  deploring  his  fate,  observed,  that  "the 
world  itself  is  but  a  large  prison,  out  of  which 
some  are  daily  selected  for  execution." 

That  last  night  of  his  existence  was  occupied 
by  writing  what  the  letter- writer  calls  ' '  a  re- 
membrancer" to  be  left  with  his  wife,  to  acquaint 
the  world  with  his  sentiments,  should  he  be  de- 
nied their  delivery  from  the  scaffold  as  he  had 
been  at  the  bar  of  the  King's  Bench.  She  visited 
him  that  night,  and  amidst  her  tears  acquainted 
him  that  she  had  obtained  the  favour  of  disposing 
of  his  body  :  to  which  he  answered  smiling,  "  It 
is  well,  Bess,  that  thou  rnayest  dispose  of  that, 
dead,  which  thou  hadst  not  always  the  disposing 
of  when  it  was  alive. ' '  At  midnight  he  entreated 
her  to  leave  him.  It  must  have  been  then,  that, 
with  unshaken  fortitude,  Raleigh  sat  down  to 
compose  those  verses  on  his  death,  which,  being 
short,  the  most  appropriate  may  be  repeated. 
"  Even  such  is  Time,  that  takes  on  trust, 
Our  youth,  our  joys,  or  all  we  have, 
And  pays  us  but  with  age  and  dust ; 

Who  in  dark  and  silent  graves, 
When  we  have  wandered  all  our  ways, 
Shuts  up  the  story  of  our  days  !  " 

The  same  night  Raleigh  wrote  this  distich, 
on  the  candle  burning  dimly  : 

"Cowards  fear  to  die:  but  courage  stout. 
Rather  than  live  in  snuff,  will  be  put  out." 

His  cheerfulness  was  so  remarkable,  and  his 
fearlessness  of  death  so  marked,  that  the  Dean  of 
Westminster,  who  attended,  at  first  wondering  at 
the  hero,  reprehended  the  lightness  of  his  man- 
ner ;  but  Raleigh  gave  God  thanks  that  he  had 
never  feared  death,  for  it  was  but  an  opinion  and 
an  imagination  ;  and  as  for  the  manner  of  death, 
he  would  rather  so  than  of  a  burning  fever  ;  and 
that  some  might  have  made  shows  outwardly,  but 
he  felt  the  joys  within.  The  Dean  says  that  he 
made  no  more  of  his  death  than  if  he  had  been  to 
take  a  journey  :  "Not,"  said  he,  "but  that  I 
am  a  great  sinner,  for  I  have  been  a  soldier,  a 
seaman,  and  a  courtier."  The  writer  of  a 
manuscript   letter   tells   us,    that   the    Dean    de- 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


247 


but  I  am  sure 
the  prison   to 


clared  he  died  not  only  religiously,  but  he  found 
him  to  be  a  man  as    ready  and  as  able  to  give  as 
to   take   instruc- 
tion. 

On  the  morn- 
ing of  his  death 
he  smoked,  as 
usual,  his  favor- 
ite tobacco,  and 
when  they 
brought  h  i  m  a 
cup  of  excellent 
sack,  being 
asked  how  he 
liked  it,  Raleigh 
answered,  "As 
the  fellow,  that, 
drinking  of  St. 
Giles's  bowl,  as 
he  went  to  Ty- 
burn, said,  'That 
was  good  drink 
if  a  man  might 
tarry  by  it.'  " 
The  day  before, 
in  passing  from 
Westminster- 
hall  to  the  Gate- 
house, his  eye 
had  caught  Sir 
Hugh  Beeston  in 
the  throng,  and 
calling  on  him, 
Raleigh  request- 
ed that  he  would 
see  him  die  to- 
rn o  r  r  o  w.  Sir 
Hugh,  to  secure 
himself  a  seat 
on  the  scaffold, 
had  provided 
himself  with  a 
letter  to  the  sher- 
iff, which  w  a  s 
not  read  at  the 
time,  and  Sir 
Walter  found  his 
friend  thrust  by, 
lamenting  that 

he  could  not  get  there.    "Farewell!  "exclaimed      were  pressing 
Raleigh,  "  I  know  not  what  shift  you  will  make,      whose  head  w 


to  have  a  place."     In  going  from 
the    scaffold,    among   others   who 


SIR   WAI.TKR    RALEIGH   DRESSED    FOR   THE   SCAFFOLD. 


hard    to    see   him,    one  old  man, 
as  bald,  came  very  forward,  inso- 


248 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


much  that  Raleigh  noticed  him,  and  asked, 
"whether  he  would  have  ought  of  him?"  The 
old  man  answered,  "Nothing  but  to  see  him, 
and  to  pray  God  for  him."  Raleigh  replied,  "I 
thank  thee,  good  friend,  and  I  am  sorry  I  have 
no  better  thing  to  return  thee  for  thy  good  will." 
Observing  his  bald  head,  he  continued,  "but 
take  this  night-cap,  (which  was  a  very  rich 
wrought  one  that  he  wore)  for  thou  hast  more 
need  of  it  now  than  I." 

His  dress,  as  was  usual  with  him,  was  elegant, 
if  not  rich.  Oldys  describes  it,  but  mentions 
that  ' '  he  had  a  wrought  night  cap  under  his  hat, ' ' 
this  we  have  otherwise  disposed  of;  he  wore  a 
ruff-band,  a  black  wrought  velvet  night-gown 
over  a  hair-coloured  satin  doublet,  and  a  black 
wrought  waistcoat ;  black  cut  taffety  breeches, 
and  ash-colored  silk  stockings. 

He  ascended  the  scaffold  with  the  same  cheer- 
fulness as  he  had  passed  to  it ;  and  observing  the 
lords  seated  at  a  distance,  some  at  windows,  he 
requested  that  they  would  approach  him,  as  he 
wished  that  they  should  all  witness  what  he  had  - 
to  say.  The  request  was  complied  with  by  several. 
When  he  finished,  he  requested  Lord  Arundel 
that  the  king  would  not  suffer  any  libels  to  defame 
him  after  death — "And  now  I  have  a  long  jour- 
ney to  go,  and  must  take  my  leave."  "He 
embraced  all  the  lords  and  other  friends  with  such 
courtly  compliments,  as  if  he  had  met  them  at 
some  feast,"  says  a  letter- writer.  Having  taken 
off  his  gown,  he  called  to  the  headsman  to  show 
him  the  axe,  which  not  being  instantly  done,  he 
repeated,  "  I  prithee  let  me  see  it.  Dost  thou 
think  that  I  am  afraid  of  it  ?  "  He  passed  the 
edge  lightly  over  his  finger,  and  smiling,  observed 
to  the  sheriff,  "This  is  a  sharp  medicine,  but  a 
sound  cure  for  all  diseases,"  and  kissing  it,  laid 
it  down.  Another  writer  has  it,  ' '  This  is  that,  that 
will  cure  all  sorrows. ' '  After  this  he  went  to  three 
several  corners  of  the  scaffold,  and  kneeling  down, 
desired  all  the  people  to  pray  for  him,  and  recited 
a  long  prayer  to  himself.  When  he  began  to  fit 
himself  for  the  block,  he  first  laid  himself  down 
to  try  how  the  block  fitted  him  ;  after  rising  up, 
the  executioner  kneeled  down  to  ask  his  forgiv- 
ness,  which  Raleigh  with  an  embrace  gave,  but 
entreated  him  not  to  strike  till  he  gave  a  token 
by  lifting  up  his  hand,  "  and  then,  fear  not,  but 
strike  home!"  When  he  laid  his  head  down  to 
receive  the  stroke,  the  executioner  desired  him  to 


lay  his  face  towards  the  east.  "It  is  no  great 
matter  which  way  a  man's  head  stands,  so  the 
heart  is  right,"  said  Raleigh;  but  these  were 
not  his  last  words.  He  was  once  more  to  speak 
in  this  world  with  the  same  intrepidity  he  had 
lived  in  it — for,  having  lain  some  minutes  on  the 
block  in  prayer,  he  gave  his  signal  ;  but  the  ex- 
ecutioner, either  unmindful,  or  in  fear,  failed  to 
strike,  and  Raleigh,  after  once  or  twice  putting 
forth  his  hands,  was  compelled  to  ask  him,  ' '  Why 
dost  thou  not  strike?  Strike!  man!"  In  two 
blows  he  was  beheaded  ;  but  from  the  first,  his 
body  never  shrunk  from  the  spot,  by  an}-  discom- 
posure of  his  posture,  which,  like  his  mind,  was 
immovable. 

"  In  all  the  time  he  was  upon  the  scaffold,  and 
before, ' '  says  one  of  the  manuscript  letter- writers, 
"  there  appeared  not  the  least  alteration  in  him, 
either  in  his  voice  or  countenance  ;  but  he  seemed 
as  free  from  all  manner  of  apprehension  as  if  he 
had  been  come  thither  rather  to  be  a  spectator 
than  a  sufferer  ;  nay,  the  beholders  seemed  much 
more  sensible  than  did  he,  so  that  he  hath  pur- 
chased here  in  the  opinion  of  men  such  honour 
and  reputation,  as  it  is  thought  his  greatest  enemies 
are  they  that  are  most  sorrowful  for  his  death, 
which  the}-  see  is  like  to  turn  so  much  to  his  ad- 
vantage." 

The  people  were  deeply  affected  at  the  sight, 
and  so  much,  that  one  said,  that  "we  had  not 
such  another  head  to  cut  off;"  and  another, 
' '  wished  the  head  and  brains  to  be  upon  Secretary 
Xaunton's  shoulders."  The  observer  suffered  for 
this  ;  he  was  a  wealthy  citizen,  and  a  great  news- 
monger, and  one  who  haunted  Paul's  Walk. 
Complaint  was  made,  and  the  citizen  summoned 
to  the  privy-council.  He  pleaded  that  he  intended 
no  disrespect  to  Mr.  Secretary ;  but  only  spoke 
in  reference  to  the  old  proverb,  that  "  two  heads 
were  better  than  one  ! ' '  His  excuse  was  allowed 
at  the  moment ;  but  when  afterwards  called  on 
for  a  contribution  to  St.  Paul's  cathedral,  and 
having  subscribed  a  hundred  pounds,  the  Secre- 
tary observed  to  him,  "  that  two  were  better  than 
one,  Mr.  Wiemark  !"  either  from  fear,  or  charity, 
the  witty  citizen  doubled  his  subscription. 

Thus  died  this  glorious  and  gallant  cavalier,  of 
whom  Osborne  says,  "His  death  was  managed 
by  him  with  so  high  and  religious  a  resolution,  as 
if  a  Roman  had  acted  a  Christian,  or  rather  a 
Christian  a  Roman." 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


24  9 


After  having  read  the  preceding  article,  we  are 
astonished  at  the  greatness,  and  the  variable  nature 
of  this  extraordinary  man,  and  this  happy  genius. 
With  Gibbon,  who  once  meditated  to  write  his 
life,  we  may  pause,  and  pronounce  ' '  his  character 
is  ambiguous  ;"  but  we  shall  not  hesitate  to  de- 
cide, that  Raleigh  knew  better  how  to  die  than  to 
live.  ' '  His  glorious  hours, ' '  says  a  contemporary, 
"were  his  arraignment  and  execution;" — but 
never  will  be  forgotten  the  intermediate  years  of 
his  lettered  imprisonment ! 


EFFECTS  OF  APPROACHING  DEATH  ON  THE 
MINDS  OF  GREAT  MEN. 

THE  functions  of  the  mind  are  connected  with 
those  of  the  body.  On  a  death-bed  a  fort- 
night's disease  may  reduce  the  firmest  to  a  most 
wretched  state  ;  while,  on  the  contrary,  the  soul 
struggles,  as  it  were  in  torture,  in  a  robust  frame. 
Nani,  the  Venetian  historian,  has  curiously  de- 
scribed the  death  of  Innocent  X.,  who  was  a 
character  unblemished  by  vices,  and  who  died  a': 
an  advanced  age,  with  too  robust  a  constitution. 
"  After  a  long  and  terrible  agony,  with  great 
bodily  pain  and  difficulty,  his  soul  separated  itself 
from  that  robust  frame,  and  expired  in  his  eighty- 
first  year." 

Some  have  composed  sermons  of  consolation  on 

death,  while  they  passed  many  years  of  anxiety, 

ipproachiug  to  madness,  in  contemplating  their 

>wn.     The  certainty  of  an  immediate  separation 

om  all  our  human  sympathies  may,  even  on  a 

'ath-bed,  suddenly  disorder  the  imagination.    A 

''ebrated  physician  relates  an  incident  of  a  general , 

to  had  often  faced  the  cannon's  mouth,  dropping 

oVn   in  terror  when  informed  by  him  that  his 

d  ase  was  rapid  and  fatal.     Some  have  died  of 

thtrong  imagination  of  death.    There  is  a  print 

of  knight  brought  on  the  scaffold  to  suffer  ;  he 

vit^d  the  headsman  ;  he  was  blinded,  and  knelt 

do     to    receive    the    stroke.     Having    passed 

thr^li  the  whole  ceremony  of  a  criminal  execu- 

tioiiccompanied    by  all    its    disgrace,  it    was 

ordtl  that  his  life  should  be  spared, — instead  of 

the  -,ke  from  the  sword,  the}'  poured  cold  water 

overs  neck.     After  this  operation  the  knight 

remad  motionless  ;  they  discovered  that  he  had 

expiiin  the  very  imagination  of  death  !     Such 

are  aijg  the  many  causes  which  maj'  affect  the 

the  m  in  the  hour  of  its  last  trial.    The  habitual 

associins  of  the    natural  character  are   most 


likely  to  prevail — though  not  always  !  The 
intrepid  Marshal  Biron  disgraced  his  exit  by 
womanish  tears,  and  raging  imbecility  ;  the 
virtuous  Erasmus,  with  miserable  groans  was 
heard  crying  out  Domine  !  Domine  !  fac  fiyiem  ! 
fac  finem  !  Bayle  having  prepared  his  proof  for 
the  printer,  pointed  to  where  it  lay  when  dying. 
The  last  words  which  Lord  Chesterfield  was  heard 
to  speak  were,  when  the  valet,  opening  the  cur- 
tains of  the  bed,  announced  Mr.  Dayroles — "Give 
Dayroles  a  chair!"  "  This  good-breeding,"  ob- 
served Dr.  Warren,  his  physician,  "only  quits 
him  with  his  life."  The  last  words  of  Nelson 
were,  ' '  Tell  Collingwood  to  bring  the  fleet  to  an 
anchor."  The  tranquil  grandeur  which  cast  a 
new  majesty  over  Charles  the  First  on  the  scaffold, 
appeared  when  he  declared — "  I  fear  not  death  ! 
Death  is  not  terrible  to  me  ! ' '  And  the  charac- 
teristic pleasantry  of  Sir  Thomas  More  exhilarated 
his  last  moments,  when  observing  the  weakness 
of  the  scaffold,  he  said,  in  mounting  it,  "I  pray 
you  see  me  up  safe,  and  for  my  coming  down,  let 
me  shift  for  myself ! ' '  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  used  a 
similar  expression  while  on  the  way  co  the  scaffold. 

In  one  of  the  bloody  battles  fought  by  the  Duke 
of  Enghien,  two  French  noblemen  were  left 
wounded  among  the  dead  on  the  field  of  battle. 
One  complained  loudly  of  his  pains,  the  other 
after  long  silence  thus  offered  him  consolation. 
"  My  friend,  whoever  you  are,  remember  that  our 
God  died  on  the  cross,  our  king  on  the  scaffc1d  ; 
and  if  you  have  strength  to  look  at  him  who  now 
speaks  to  you,  you  will  see  that  both  his  legs  are 
shot  away." 

At  the  execution  of  the  Duke  D' Enghien,  the 
royal  victim,  looking  at  the  soldiers  who  had 
pointed  their  fusees,  said,  "Grenadiers!  lower 
your  arms,  othenvise  you  will  miss,  or  only  wound 
me  !"  To  two  of  them  who  proposed  to  tie  a 
handkerchief  over  his  eyes,  he  said,  "A  loyal  sol- 
dier who  has  been  so  often  exposed  to  fire  and 
sword,  can  see  the  approach  of  death  with  naked 
eyes,  and  without  fear." 

After  a  similar  caution  on  the  part  of  Sir  George 
Lisle,  or  Sir  Charles  Lucas,  when  executed  in 
nearly  the  same  manner  at  Colchester,  by  the  sol- 
diers of  Fairfax,  the  hero  in  answer  to  there  asser- 
tions and  assurances  that  they  would  take  care 
not  to  miss  him,  replied,  "  You  have  often  missed 
me  when  I  have  been  nearer  to  you  in  the  field 
of  battle." 


250    THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


When  the  Governor  of  Cadiz,  the  Marquis  de 
Solano,  was  murdered  by  the  enraged  and  mis- 
taken citizens,  to  one  of  the  murderers  who  had 
run  a  pike  through  his  back,  he  calmly  turned 
and  said,  "  Coward  to  strike  there  !  Come  round, 
if  you  dare,  face  and  destroy  me." 

It  is  doubtful  whether  the  thoughts  of  death 
are  useful,  particularly  with  persons  who  are  so 
constituted  that  such  thoughts  deprive  them  of 
their  proper  faculties.  In  this  connection  we 
quote  some  of  Lady  Gethin's  thoughts  on 
"Death:"  "The  very  thought  of  death,  '  she 
says,  "  disturbs  one's  reason  ;  and  though  a  man 
may  have  many  excellent  qualities,  yet  he  may 
have  the  weakness  of  not  commanding  his  senti- 
ments. Nothing  is  worse  for  one's  health  than  to 
be  in  fear  of  death.  There  are  some  so  wise  as 
to  neither  hate  nor  fear  it  ;  but  for  my  part  I  have 
an  aversion  for  it,  and  with  reason  ;  for  it  is  a 
rash,  inconsiderate  thing,  that  always  comes  before 
it  is  looked  for ;  always  comes  unseasonably, 
parts  friends,  ruins  beauty,  laughs  at  youth,  and 
draws  a  dark  veil  over  all  the  pleasures  of  life. 
This  dreadful  evil  is  but  the  evil  of  a  moment, 
and  what  we  cannot  by  any  means  avoid  ;  and  it 
is  that  which  makes  it  so  terrible  to  me  ;  for  were 
it  uncertain,  hope  might  diminish  some  part  of  the 
fear ;  but  when  I  think  I  must  die,  and  that  I 
may  die  every  moment,  and  that  too  a  thousand 
several  ways,  I  am  in  such  a  fright  as  you  cannot 
imagine.  I  see  dangers  where,  perhaps,  there 
never  were  any.  I  am  persuaded  it  is  happy  to 
be  somewhat  dull  of  apprehension  in  this  case  ; 
and  yet  the  best  way  to  cure  the  pensiveness  of 
the  thoughts  of  death  is  to  think  of  it  as  little  as 
possible." 

She  proceeds  b}-  enumerating  the  terrors  of  the 
fearful,  who  "cannot  enjoy  themselves  in  the 
pleasantest  places,  and  although  they  are  neither 
on  sea,  river,  or  creek,  but  in  good  health  in  their 
chamber,  yet  are  they  so  well  instructed  with  the 
fear  of  dying,  that  they  do  not  measure  it  only  by 
the  present  dangers  that  wait  on  us. ' ' 

Such  is  the  picture  of  an  ingenious  and  a  reli- 
gious mind,  drawn  by  an  amiable  woman,  who, 
it  is  evident,  lived  always  in  the  fear  of  death. 
The  Gothic  skeleton  was  ever  haunting  her  imagi- 
nation. 

Dr.  Johnson  had  the  same  horror  of  the 
thoughts  of  death.  When  Boswell  once  in  con- 
versation persecuted  him  on  the  subject,  by  argu- 


ing whether  we  might  not  fortify  our  minds  for 
the  approach  of  death,  he  answered  in  a  passion, 
"  No,  sir  !  let  it  alone  !  It  matters  not  how  a  man 
dies,  but  how  he  lives  !  the  art  of  dying  is  not  of 
importance,  it  lasts  so  short  a  time  !"  When  Bos- 
well persisted  in  the  conversation,  Johnson  was 
thrown  into  such  a  state  of  agitation  that  he  thun- 
dered out,  "  Give  us  no  more  of  this  ;"  and  further 
sternly  told  the  trembling  and  too  curious  philoso- 
pher, "  Don't  let  us  meet  to-morrow  !" 


HISTORY  OF  THE  FEAR  OF  DEATH. 

THE  ancients  contemplated  death  without  ter- 
ror, and  met  it  with  indifference.     It  was  the 
only  divinity  to  which  they  never  sacrificed,  con- 
vinced that  no  human  being  could  turn  aside  its 
stroke.     They  raised  altars  to  fever,  to  misfortune, 
to  all  the  evils  of  life  ;  for  these  might  change  I 
But  though  they  did  not  court  the  presence  of 
death  in  any  shape,  they  acknowledged  its  tran- 
quillity ;  and  in  the  beautiful  fables  of  their  alle- 
gorical religion,  Death  was  the  daughter  of  "Night,. 
and  the  sister  of  Sleep  ;  and  ever  the  friend  of 
the  unhappy  !     To  the  eternal  sleep  of  death  they 
dedicated  their  sepulchral  monuments — sEtcrnaii 
Somno  !     If  the  full  light  of  revelation  had  not 
yet  broken  on  them,  it  can  hardly  be  denied  that 
they  had  some  glimpses  and  a  dawn  of  the  life  to 
come,  from  the  many  allegorical  inventions  which 
describe  the  transmigration  of  the  soul.   A  butter- 
fly on  the   extremity  of  an  extinguished  lamp, 
held  up  by  the  messenger  of  the  gods  intently 
gazing  above,  implied  a  dedication  of  that  soul ; 
Love,   with    a  melancholy   air,   his  legs  crossed, 
leaning  on  an  inverted  torch,  the  flame  thus  natu- 
rally extinguishing  itself,  elegantly  denoted    th' 
cessation  of  human  life  :    a  rose  sculptured  on  j 
sarcophagus,  or   the  emblems  of    epicurean   liJ 
traced  on   it,  in  a  skull  wreathed  by  a  chaplet  ij 
flowers,  such  as  they  wore  at  their  convivial  mej 
ings,   a. flask   of  wine,   a    patera,   and  the  sin,' 
bones  used  as  dice  ;  all  these  symbols  were  indiri 
allusions  to    death,  veiling   its   painful   recolf 
tions.     They  did  not   pollute  their  imaginatis 
with  the  contents  of  a  charnel-house.     The  f- 
cophagi  of  the  ancients  rather  recall  to  us  th£- 
membrance  of  the  activity  of  life  ;    for  theye 
sculptured  with  battles  or  games,  in  basso  relP  ', 
a  sort  of  tender  homage  paid  to  the  dead,  obses 
Mad.  De  Stael,  with  her  peculiar  refinemepf 
thinking:. 


THE  URN  OF  DEATH  AS  REGARDED  BY  THE  ANCIENTS. 


(251) 


252 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


A  representation  of  Death  by  a  skeleton  ap- 
pears among  the  Egyptians  ;  and  a  custom  more 
singular  than  barbarous  prevailed,  of  enclosing  a 
skeleton  of  beautiful  workmanship  in  a  small 
coffin,  which  the  bearer  carried  round  at  their 
entertainments  ;  observing,  ' '  After  death  you  will 
resemble  this  figure  :  drink  then  !  and  be  happy  ! ' ' 
A  symbol  of  Death  in  a  convivial  party  was  not 
designed  to  excite  terrific  or  gloom}-  ideas. 

It  would  seem  that  the  Romans  had  even  an 
aversion  to  mention  death  in  express  terms,  for 
they  disguised  its  very  name  by  some  peri- 
phrasis, such  as  "he  has  departed  from  life;" 
and  they  did  not  say  that  their  friend  had 
died,  but  that  he  had  lived ;  vixit!  In  the  old 
Latin  chronicles,  and  even  the  Fecdera  and  other 
documents  of  the  middle  ages,  we  find  the  same 
delicacy  about  using  the  fatal  word  Death,  espe- 
cially when  applied  to  kings  and  great  people. 
Even  among  a  people  less  refined,  the  obtrusive- 
idea  of  death  has  been  studiously  avoided  :  we  are 
told  that  when  the  emperor  of  Morocco  inquires 
after  any  one  who  has  recently  died,  it  is  against 
eticpiette  to  mention  the  word  "death;"  the  answer 
is,  "  his  destiny  is  closed."  But  this  tenderness  is 
only  reserved  for  ' '  the  elect ' '  of  the  Mussulmans. 
A  Jew's  death  is  at  once  plainly  expressed,  "He 
is  dead,  sir  !  asking  your  pardon  for  mentioning 
such  a  contemptible  wretch  !  "  i.  e. ,  a  Jew  !  They 
describe  a  Christian's  death  by  saying  "The  infi- 
del is  dead  !  "   or  "  The  cuckold  is  dead  ! ' ' 

The  artists  of  antiquity  have  so  rarefy  attempted 
to  personify  Death,  that  we  have  not  discovered  a 
single  revolting  image  of  this  nature  in  all  the 
works  of  antiquity — to  conceal  its  deformity  to  the 
eye,  as  well  as  to  elude  its  suggestion  to  the  mind, 
seems  to  have  been  an  universal  feeling,  and  it 
accorded  with  a  fundamental  principle  of  ancient 
art ;  that  of  never  offering  to  the  eye  a  distortion 
•of  form  in  the  violence  of  passion,  which  destroyed 
the  beauty  of  its  representation  ;  such  is  shown  in 
the  Laccoon,  where  the  mouth  only  opens  suffi- 
ciently to  indicate  the  suppressed  agony  of  su- 
perior humanity,  without  expressing  the  loud  cry 
of  vulgar  suffering.  Pausanias  considered  as  a 
personification  of  death  a  female  figure,  whose 
teeth  and  nails,  long  and  crooked,  were  engraven 
on  a  coffin  of  cedar,  which  enclosed  the  bod)-  of 
Cypselus  ;  this  female  was  unquestionably  only 
one  of  the  Parccc,  or  the  Fates,  ' '  watchful  to  cut 
the  thread  of  life  ;"  Hesiod  describes  Atropos  in- 


deed as  having  sharp  teeth  and  long  nails,  waiting 
to  tear  and  devour  the  dead  ;  but  this  image  was 
in  a  barbarous  era.  Catullus  ventured  to  personify 
the  Sister- Destinies  as  three  Crones;  "but  in 
general,"  Winkelman  observes,  "they  are  por- 
trayed as  beautiful  virgins,  with  winged  heads, 
one  of  whom  is  always  in  the  attitude  of  writing 
on  a  scroll." 

Death  was  a  nonentity  to  the  ancient  artist. 
Could  he  exhibit  what  represents  nothing  ?  Could 
he  animate  into  action  what  lies  in  a  state  of 
eternal  tranquillity  ?  Elegant  images  of  repose 
and  tender  sorrow  were  all  he  could  invent  to  indi- 
cate the  state  of  death.  Even  the  terms  which 
different  nations  have  bestowed  on  a  burial-place 
are  not  associated  with  emotions  of  horror.  The 
Greeks  called  a  burying-ground  by  the  soothing 
term  of  Camcirion,  or  "the  sleeping-place;"  the 
Jews,  who  had  no  horrors  of  the  grave,  by  Deth- 
haim,  or  "  the  house  of  the  living  ;"  the  Germans, 
with  religious  simplicity,  "  God'sfield,"  or  "God's 
acre." 

When  the  Christian  religion  spread  over  Europe, 
the  world  changed  !  The  certainty  of  a  future  state 
of  existence,  terrified  instead  of  consoling  human 
nature  :  and  in  the  resurrection  the  ignorant  mul- 
titude seemed  rather  to  have  dreaded  retribution, 
than  hoped  for  remuneration.  The  Founder  of 
Christianity  every  where  breathes  the  blessedness 
of  social  feeling.  It  is  "  our  Father  ! ' '  whom  he 
addresses.  The  horrors  with  which  Christianity 
was  afterwards  disguised  arose  in  the  corruptions 
of  Christ's  teachings  among  those  insane  ascetics, 
who,  misinterpreting  the  word  of  life,  trampled  on 
nature  ;  and  imagined  that  to  secure  an  existence 
in  the  other  world  it  was  necessary  not  to  exist  in 
the  one  in  which  God  had  placed  them.  The  do- 
minion of  mankind  fell  into  the  usurping  hands 
of  those  imperious  monks  whose  artifices  trafficked 
with  the  terrors  of  ignorant  and  hypochondriac 
' '  Kaisers  and  kings. ' '  The  scene  was  darkened  by 
penances  and  by  pilgrimages,  b)r  midnight  vigils  ; 
by  miraculous  shrines,  and  bloody  flagellations  ; 
spectres  started  up  everywhere  ;  millions  of  masses 
increased  their  supernatural  influence.  Amidst 
this  general  gloom  of  Europe,  their  troubled  ima- 
ginations were  frequently  predicting  the  end  of 
the  world.  It  was  at  this  period  that  they  first 
beheld  the  grave  yawn,  and  Death  in  the  Gothic 
form  of  a  giant  anatomy  parading  through  the 
universe  !      The  people  were  frightened,  as  they 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


?53 


viewed  everywhere  hung  before  their  eyes,  in  the 
twilight  of  their  cathedrals,  and  their  pale  clois- 
ters, the  most  revolting  emblems  of  death.  The}' 
startled  the  traveller  on  the  bridge ;  they  stared 
on  the  sinner  in  the  carvings  of  his  table  and 
chair ;  the  spectre  moved  in  the  hangings  of  the 
apartment ;  it  stood  in 
the  niche,  and  was  the 
picture  of  their  sitting- 
room  ;  it  was  worn  in 
their  rings,  while  the  il- 
luminator shaded  the 
bony  phantom  in  the 
margins  of  their 
"  horae,"  their  primers, 
and  their  breviaries. 

An  anecdote  of  these 
monkish  times  has  been 
preserved  by  old  Gerard 
Leigh;  and  as  old 
stories  are  best  set  off 
by  old  words,  Gerard 
speaketh  !  ' '  The  great 
Maximilian  the  em- 
peror came  to  a  monas- 
tery in  high  Almaine 
(Germany),  the  monks 
whereof  had  caused  to 
be  curiously  painted  the 
charnel  of  a  man,  which 
they  termed  — ■  Death  ! 
When  that  well-learned 
emperor  had  beholden 
it  awhile,  he  called  unto 
him  his  painter,  com- 
manding to  blot  the 
skeleton  out,  and  to 
paint  therein  the  image 
of — a  fool.  Wherewith 
the  abbot,  humbly  be- 
seeching him  to  the 
contrary,  said,  '  It  was 
a  good  remembrance  ! ' 
'Nay,'  quoth  the  em- 
peror, '  as  vermin  that 
annoyeth    man's    body 

cometh  unlooked  for,  so  doth  death,  which  here 
is  but  a  famed  image,  and  life  is  a  certain  thing, 
if  we  know  to  deserve  it.'  "  The  original  mind  of 
Maximilian  the  Great  is  characterized  by  this 
curious  story  of  converting  our  emblem  of  death 


into  a  parti-colored  fool  ;  and  such  satirical  allu- 
sions to  the  foll}r  of  those  who  persisted  in  their 
notion  of  the  skeleton  were  not  unusual  with  the 
artists  of  those  times  ;  we  find  the  figure  of  a  fool 
sitting,  with  some  drollery,  between  the  legs  of 
one  of  these  skeletons. 


AN    INSANE   RELIGIONIST   OF   THE    MIDDLE   AGES. 


This  story  is  associated  with  an  important  fact. 
After  they  had  successfully  terrified  the  people 
with  their  charnel-house  figure,  a  reaction  in  the 
public  feelings  occurred,  for  the  skeleton  was  now 
employed  as  a  medium  to  convey  the  most  face- 


254 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


tious,  satirical,  and  burlesque  notions  of  human 
life.  Death,  which  had  so  long  harassed  their 
imaginations,  suddenly  changed  into  a  theme  fer- 


XHe  knight  OF  DEATH. — By  Albert  Durer. 

This  illustration,  by  one  01  the  most  famous  artists  of  the  Middle  Ages,  represents  a  knight  going 
forth  to  battle,  accompanied  by  the  spectres  of  Sin  and  Death.  It  is  one  of  the  most  striking  repre- 
sentations of  the  ghostly  fancies  of  that  age. 

tile  in  coarse  humor.  The  Italians  were  too  long 
accustomed  to  the  study  of  the  beautiful  to  allow 
their  pencil  to  sport  with  deformity  ;  but  the  Gothic 
taste  of  the  German  artists,  who  could  only  copy 


their  own  homely  nature,  delighted  to  give  human 
passions  to  the  hideous  physiognomy  of  a  noseless 
skull  ;  to  put  an  eye  of  mockery  or  malignity  into 

its  hollow  socket, 
and  to  stretch  out 
the  gaunt  anat- 
omy into  the  pos- 
tures of  a  Ho- 
garth ;  and  that 
the  ludicrous 
might  be  carried 
to  its  extreme, 
this  imaginary  be- 
ing, taken  from 
the  bone-house, 
was  viewed  in  the 
action  of  danc- 
ing! This  blend- 
ing of  the  gro- 
tesque with  the- 
most  disgusting 
image  of  mortal- 
ity is  the  more 
singular  part  of 
this  history  of  the 
skeleton,  and  in- 
deed of  human 
nature  itself! 

"The  Dance  of 
Death  "  erro- 
neously consid- 
ered as  Holbein's, 
with  other  simi- 
lar dances,  how- 
ever differently 
treated,  have  one 
common  subject, 
which  was  paint- 
ed in  the  arcades 
of  burying- 
grounds,  or  on 
town-halls  and  in 
market-places. 
The  subject  is 
usually  The  Skel- 
eton in  the  act 
of  leading  all 
grave,    personated 


ranks  and  conditions  to  the 
after  nature,  and  in  the  strict  costume  of  the 
times.  This  invention  opened  a  new  field  for 
genius  ;  and  when  we  can   for  a    moment  forget 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


255 


their  luckless  choice  of  their  bony  and  bloodless 
hero,  who,  to  abuse  us  by  a  variety  of  action,  be- 
comes a  sort  of  horrid  harlequin  in  these  panto- 
mimical  scenes,  we  may  be  delighted  by  the 
numerous  human  characters,  which  are  so  vividly 
presented  to  us.  The  origin  of  this  extraordinary 
invention  is  supposed  to  be  a  favorite  pageant,  or 
religious  mummery,  invented  by  the  clergy,  who  in 
these  ages  of  barbarous  Christianity  always  found 
it  necessary  to  amuse,  as  well  as  to  frighten  the 
populace  ;  a  circumstance  well  known  to  have 
occurred  in  so  many  other  grotesque  and  licentious 
festivals  they  allowed  the  people.  This  pageant 
was  performed  in  churches,  in  which  the  chief 
characters  in  society  were  supported  in  a  sort  of 
masquerade,  mixing  together  in  a  general  dance, 
in  the  course  of  which  every  one  in  his  turn 
vanished  from  the  scene,  to  show  how  one  after 
the  other  died  off. 


PROPHECIES  THAT  WERE  FULFILLED. 

A  LETTER  from  Cardinal  Julian  to  Pope 
Eugenius  IV.,  written  a  century  before 
Luther  appeared,  clearly  predicts  the  Reforma- 
tion and  its  consequences.  He  observes  that  the 
minds  of  men  were  ripe  for  something  tragical ; 
he  felt  the  axe  striking  at  the  root,  and  the  tree 
beginning  to  bend,  ard  that  his  party  instead 
of  propping  it,  were  hastening  its  fall.  In  Eng- 
land, Sir  Thoma?  More  was  not  less  prescient 
in  his  views  ;  for  when  his  son  Roper  was  ob- 
serving to  him,  that  the  Catholic  religion,  under 
"the  Defender  of  the  Faith,"  was  in  a  most 
flourishing  state,  the  answer  of  More  was  an 
evidence  of  political  foresight, — "Truth  it  is,  son 
Roper !  and  yet  I  pra3'  God  that  we  may  not 
live  to  see  the  day  that  we  would  gladly  be  at 
league  and  composition  with  heretics,  to  let  them 
have  their  churches  quietly  to  themselves,  so  that 
they  would  be  contented  to  let  us  have  ours 
quietly  to  ourselves."  Whether  the  great  chan- 
cellor predicted  from  a  more  intimate  knowledge 
of  the  king's  character,  or  from  some  private  cir- 
cumstances which  may  not  have  been  recorded 
for  our  information,  of  which  we  have  an  obscure 
suspicion,  remains  to  be  ascertained.  The  minds 
of  men  of  great  political  sagacity  were  unques- 
tionably at  that  moment  full  of  obscure  indica- 
tions of  the  approaching  change  :  Erasmus,  when 
at  Canterbury  before  the  tomb  of  Becket,  observ- 
ing it   loaded  with  a  vast    profusion   of  jewels, 


wished  that  those  had  been  distributed  among 
the  poor,  and  that  the  shrine  had  been  only 
adorned  with  boughs  and  flowers;  "For,"  said 
he,  "  those  who  have  heaped  up  all  this  mass  of 
treasure  will  one  day  be  plundered,  and  fall  a  prey 
to  those  who  are  in  power  ;  " — a  prediction  liter- 
ally fulfilled  about  twenty  years  after  it  was  made. 
The  unknown  author  of  the  Visions  of  Piers 
Ploughman,  who  wrote  in  the  reign  of  Edward 
the  Third,  surprised  the  world  by  a  famous  pre- 
diction of  the  fall  of  the  religious  houses  from  the 
hand  of  a  king-.  The  event  was  realized  two  hun- 
dred years  afterwards,  by  Henry  the  Eighth.  But 
moral  and  political  prediction  is  not  inspiration  ; 
the  one  may  be  wrought  out  by  man ;  the  other 
descends  from  God.  The  same  principle  which 
led  Erasmus  to  predict  that  those  who  were  ' '  in 
power ' '  would  destroy  the  rich  shrines,  because 
no  other  class  of  men  in  society  could  mate  with 
so  mighty  a  body  as  the  monks,  conducted  the 
author  of  Piers  Ploughman  to  the  same  conclu- 
sion ;  and  since  power  only  could  accomplish  that 
great  purpose,  he  fixed  on  the  highest  as  the  most 
likely  ;  and  thus  the  wise  prediction  was,  so  long 
after,  literally  accomplished ! 

Sir  Walter  Raleigh  foresaw  the  future  conse- 
quences of  the  separatists  and  the  sectaries  in  the 
national  church,  and  the  very  scene  his  imagina- 
tion raised  in  1530  was  exhibited,  to  the  letter  of 
his  description,  two  centuries  after  the  prediction  ! 
His  memorable  words  are,  ' '  Time  will  bring  it 
to  pass,  if  it  were  not  resisted,  that  God  would 
be  turned  out  of  churches  into  barns,  and  from 
thence  again  into  the  fi elds  and  mountains,  and 
under  hedges — all  order  of  discipline  and  church- 
government  left  to  newness  of  opinion  and  men's 
fancies,  and  as  many  kinds  of  ?rligio?i  spring  up 
as  there  are  parish-churches  within  England." 
We  are  struck  by  the  profound  genius  of  Tacitus, 
who  clearly  foresaw  the  calamities  which  so  long 
ravaged  Europe  on  the  fall  of  the  Roman  empire, 
in  a  work  written  five  hundred  years  before  the 
event !  In  that  sublime  anticipation  of  the  future, 
he  observed,  ' '  When  the  Romans  shall  be  hunted 
out  from  those  countries  which  they  have  con- 
quered, what  will  then  happen?  The  revolted 
people,  freed  from  their  master-oppressor,  will  not 
be  able  to  subsist  without  destroying  their  neigh- 
bours, and  the  most  cruel  wars  will  exist  among 
all  these  nations. ' ' 

We  are  told  that  Solon  at  Athens,   contemplat- 


2-50 


THE   WONDERFUL,  T^E  CURIOUS,  AND  THE 


ing  on  the  port  and  citadel  of  Munychia,  sud- 
denly exclaimed,  ' '  How  blind  is  man  to  futurity  ! 
Could  the  Athenians  foresee  what  mischief  this 


A   NORMAN"    RAIDER    IN   THE    DAYS   OF   CHARLEMAGNE. 


■will  do  their  city,  they  would  even  eat  it  with 
their  own  teeth,  to  get  rid  of  it  !  " —  a  prediction 
verified   more   than    two    hundred    rears    after- 


wards !  Thales  desired  to  be  buried  in  an  ob- 
scure quarter  of  Milesia,  observing  that  that 
very  spot  would  in  time  be  the  forum.  Charle- 
magne, in  his 
old  age,  obser- 
ving from  the 
window  of  a 
castle  a  Xorman 
descent  on  his 
coast,  tears  start- 
ed in  the  eyes 
of  the  aged  mon- 
arch. He  pre- 
dicted that,  since 
they  dared  to 
threaten  his  do- 
minions while 
he  was  yet  living, 
what  would  they 
do  when  he 
should  be  no 
more?  A  mel- 
ancholy predic- 
tion, says  De 
Foix,  of  their 
subsequent  i  n  - 
cursions,  and  of 
the  protracted 
calamities  of  the 
French  nation 
during  a  whole 
century  ! 

There  seems 
to  be  some- 
thing in  minds 
that  take  in  ex- 
tensive views  of 
human  nature, 
which  serves 
them  as  a  kind 
of  d  i  v  i  n  a  t  i  o  n, 
and  the  con- 
sciousness of 
this  faculty  has 
been  asserted  by 
some.  Cicero 
appeals  to  At- 
ticus  how  he 
had  always  judged  of  the  affairs  of  the  Republic  as 
a  good  diviner  :  and  that  its  overthrow  had  hap- 
pened, as  he  had  foreseen,  four'.een  years  before. 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


257 


Cicero  had  not  only  predicted  what  happened  in 
his  own  time,  but  also  what  occurred  long  after, 
according  to  the  testimony  of  Cornelius  Nepos. 
The  philosopher  indeed,  affects  no  secret  revela- 
tion, nor  visionary  second-sight ;  he  honestly  tells 
us  that  this  art  had  been  acquired  merely  by  study, 
and  the  administration  of  public  affairs,  while 
he  reminds  his  friend  of  several  remarkable 
instances  of  his  successful  predictions.  "  I  do  not 
divine  human  events  by  the  arts  practised  by 
the  augurs  ;  but  I  use  other  signs. ' '  Cicero  then 
expresses  himself  with  the  guarded  obscurity  of 
a  philosopher  who  could  not  openly  ridicule  the 
prevailing  superstitions  ;  but  we  perfectly  com- 
prehend the  nature  of  his  "  signs,"  when,  in  the 
great  pending  event  of  the  rival  conflicts  of 
Pompey  and  of  Caesar,  he  shows  the  means  he 
used  for  his  purpose. 

Aristotle,  who  collected  all  the  curious  knowl- 
edge of  his  times,  has  preserved  some  remarkable 
opinions  on  the  art  of  divination.  In  detailing  the 
various  subterfuges  practised  by  the  pretended 
diviners  of  his  day,  he  reveals  the  secret  principle 
by  which  one  of  them  regulated  his  predictions. 
He  frankly  declared  that  the  future,  being  always 
very  obscure,  while  the  past  was  easy  to  know,  his 
predictions  had  never  the  future  in  view  ;  for  he 
decided  from  the  past  as  it  appeared  in  human 
affairs,  what  the  future  would  most  likely  produce. 
Such  is  the  true  principle  by  which  a  philosophi- 
cal historian  may  become  a  skilful  diviner. 

The  revolutionary  character  of  Cardinal  de 
Retz,  even  in  his  youth,  was  detected  by  the  saga- 
city of  Mazarine.  He  then  wrote  the  history  of 
the  conspiracy  of  Fiesco  with  such  vehement  ad- 
miration of  his  hero,  that  the  Italian  politician, 
after  "its  perusal,  predicted  that  the  j"Oung  author 
would  be  one  of  the  most  turbulent  spirits  of  the 
ige  !  The  father  of  the  Marshal  Biron,  even 
amid  the  glory  of  his  son,  discovered  the  cloud 
which,  invisible  to  others,  was  to  obscure  it.  The 
father,  indeed,  well  knew  the  fiery  passions  of  his 
son.  "Biron,"  said  the  domestic  seer,  "  I  advise 
thee,  when  peace  takes  place,  to  go  and  plant  cab- 
bages in  thy  garden,  otherwise,  I  warn  thee,  thou 
wilt  lose  thy  head  on  a  scaffold  !  ' '  The  predic- 
tion was  literally  fulfilled  Jul}'  31,  1602. 

The  future  career  of  Cromwell  was  predicted  by 
two  celebrated  politicians  of  England  : 

"This  coarse,  unpromising  man,"  said  Lord 
Falkland,  pointing  to  Cromwell,  "  will  be  the  first 
17 


person  in  the  kingdom,  if  the  nation  comes  to 
blows  !  "  And  Archbishop  Williams  told  Charles 
the  First  confidentially,  that  "  There  was  that  in 
Cromwell  which  foreboded  something  dangerous, 
and  wished  his  majesty  would  either  win  him  over 
to  him,  or  get  him  taken  off."  The  Marquis  of 
Wellesley's  incomparable  character  of  Bonaparte 
predicted  his  fall  when  highest  in  his  glory  ;  that 
great  statesman  then  poured  forth  the  sublime  lan- 
guage of  philosphical  prophecy.  ' '  His  eagerness 
of  power  is  so  inordinate  ;  his  jealousy  of  inde- 
pendence so  fierce  ;  his  keenness  of  appetite  so 
feverish  in  all  that  touches  his  ambition,  even  in 
the  most  trifling  things,  that  he  must  plunge  into 
dreadful  difficulties.  He  is  one  of  an  order  of  minds 
that  by  nature  make  for  themselves  great  re- 
verses. ' ' 

A  great  genius,  who  was  oppressed  b>r  malig- 
nant rivals  in  his  own  times,  has  been  noticed  by 
Madame  de  Stael,  as  having  left  behind  him  an 
actual  prophecy  of  the  French  revolution  ;  this 
was  Guibert,  who,  in  his  commentary  on  Folard's 
Polybius,  published  in  1727,  declared,  that  "a 
conspiracy  is  actually  forming  in  Europe,  by  means 
at  once  so  subtile  and  efficacious,  that  I  am  Sony 
not  to  have  come  into  the  world  thirty  years  later 
to  witness  its  result.  It  must  be  confessed  that 
the  sovereigns  of  Europe  wear  very  bad  spec- 
tacles. The  proofs  of  it  are  mathematical,  if  such 
proofs  ever  were,  of  a  conspiracy."  Guibert  un- 
questionably foresaw  the  anti-monarchical  spirit 
gathering  up  its  mighty  wings,  and  rising  over 
the  universe  !  but  could  not  judge  of  the  nature 
of  the  impulse  which  he  predicted  ;  prophesying 
from  the  ideas  in  his  luminous  intellect,  he  seems 
to  have  been  far  more  curious  about,  than  certain 
of  the  consequences.  Rousseau  even  circumstan- 
tially predicted  the  convulsions  of  modern  Europe. 
He  stood  on  the  crisis  of  the  French  revolution, 
which  he  vividly  foresaw,  for  he  seriously  advised 
the  higher  classes  of  society  to  have  their  children 
taught  some  useful  trade  ;  a  notion  highl)r  ridi- 
culed on  the  first  appearance  of  the  ' '  Emile  ;  ' '  but 
at  its  hour  the  awful  truth  struck  ! 

John  Knox  the  reformer  possessed  an  extra- 
ordinary portion  of  this  awful  prophetic  confidence; 
he  appears  to  have  predicted  several  remarkable 
events,  and  the  fates  of  some  persons.  We  are  told, 
that,  condemned  to  a  galley  at  Rochelle,  he  pre- 
dicted that  "  within  two  or  three  years,  he  should 
preach  the  gospel  at  Saint  Giles's  in  Edinburgh;" 


2581 


THE   BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


259 


an  improbable  event,  which  happened.  Of  Mary 
and  Darnley,  he  pronounced,  that  "as  the  king, 
for  the  queen's  pleasure,  had  gone  to  mass,  the 
Lord  in  his  justice,  would  make  her  the  instru- 
ment of  his  overthrow."  Other  striking  predic- 
tions of  the  deaths  of  Thomas  Maitland,  and  of 
Kirkaldy  of  Grange,  and  the  warning  he  solemnly 
gave  to  the  Regent  Murray  not  to  go  to  Linlith- 
gow, where  he  was  assassinated,  occasioned  a 
barbarous  people  to  imagine  that  the  prophet 
Knox  had  received  an  immediate  communication 
from  Heaven. 

We  may  account  for  many  predictions  of  this 
class,  without  the  intervention  of  any  supernatural 
agency.  Among  the  busy  spirits  of  a  revolutionary 
age,  the  heads  of  a  party,  such  as  Knox,  have 
frequently  secret  communications  with  spies  or 
with  friends.  In  a  constant  source  of  concealed 
information,  a  shrewd,  confident  and  enthusiastic 
temper  will  find  ample  matter  for  mysterious  pre- 
science. Knox  exercised  that  deep  sagacity  which 
took  in  the  most  enlarged  views  of  the  future,  as 
appears  by  his  Machiavelian  foresight  on  the 
destruction  of  the  monasteries  and  the  cathedrals. 
' '  The  best  way  to  keep  the  rooks  from  returning, 
is  to  pull  down  their  nests. ' ' 

The  multitude  live  only  among  the  shadows  of 
things  in  the  appearances  of  the  present ;  the 
learned,  busied  with  the  past,  can  only  trace 
whence,  and  how,  all  comes  ;  but  he,  who  is  one 
of  the  people  and  one  of  the  learned,  the  true 
philosopher,  views  the  natural  tendency  and  ter- 
minations which  are  preparing  for  the  future  ! 


MARSHAL  BIRON. 

A  SHORT  sketch  of  the  brilliant  career  of 
Marshal  Biron,  referred  to  in  the  preceding 
article,  will  doubtless  be  interesting,  especially  as 
one  of  his  descendants  of  the  same  name  took  a 
prominent  part  in  our  revolutionary  war,  a  fact 
which  we  have  never  seen  mentioned  in  any  of 
our  country's  histories.  Charles  de  Goutant, 
Duke  of  Biron,  was  bora  in  1562.  He  first  dis- 
tinguished himself  in  the  battles  of  Arques  and 
Ivry,  the  latter  being  fought  on  the  14th  of  March, 
1590.  He  afterward  took  a  prominent  part  in  the 
sieges  of  Paris  and  Rouen,  and  fought  with  dis- 
tinguished valor  in  a  number  of  other  engage- 
ments. His  daring  conduct  and  quickness  of 
movement  won  for  him  the  title  of  "the  light- 


ning. ' '  He  was  impetuous  and  brave  to  the  verge 
of  rashness,  being  apparently  devoid  of  all  sense 
of  fear.  In  1592  he  was  made  admiral  of  France, 
Marshal  in  1594,  Governor  of  Burgundy  in  1595, 
duke  and  peer  in  1598,  and  was  ambassador  to 
the  court  of  Elizabeth  of  England  and  to  the 
Swiss  cantons. 

Up  to  the  time  of  Napoleon  no  other  historical 
character  in  France  ever  enjoyed  so  brilliant  a 
career  as  Marshal  Biron.  But,  excited  by  merce- 
nary motives,  he  plotted  with  Savoy  and  Spain 
for  the  dismemberment  of  his  own  country.  His 
intrigues  were  discovered  by  the  king,  who  par- 
doned him  once,  and  even  after  he  had  renewed 
his  treason,  the  king  offered  him  forgiveness  the 
second  time  if  he  would  repent  and  confess  his 
crime.  But  Biron,  denying  every  thing,  was  com- 
mitted to  the  Bastile,  where  he  was  speedily  tried 
and  condemned,  and,  on  the  31st  of  July,  1602, 
beheaded. 

Armaud  Louis  de  Gontaut,  duke  of  Biron,  a 
descendant  of  the  distinguished  marshal,  was  born 
in  Paris,  April  15,  1747.  He  was  better  known 
in  history  as  the  Due  de  Lauzun,  which  was  his 
title  till  17S8,  when  he  succeeded  his  uncle  as 
Due  de  Biron.  In  1778  he  was  placed  in  com- 
mand of  the  French  expedition  against  the  British 
colonies  of  Senegal  and  Gambia,  Africa,  which  he 
reduced  to  the  French  authority  early  the  follow- 
ing year.  In  1780,  having  squandered  his  for- 
tune, he  joined  Lafayette  in  America,  and  in 
July,  1 78 1,  he  was  placed  in  command  of  an  ex- 
pedition designed  to  capture  New  York  from  the 
British,  but  it  was  unsuccessful.  He  took  part  in 
the  battle  of  Yorktown,  and  was  present  at  the 
surrender  of  Ford  Cornwallis.  At  the  close  of 
the  war,  he  returned  to  France,  and  in  1789  was 
chosen  a  deputy  to  the  States  General,  and  subse- 
quently accompanied  Talleyrand  on  his  mission 
to  England.  Joining  his  fortunes  with  the  revo- 
lutionists, he  was  appointed  general-in-chief  of  the 
army  of  the  coast  of  La  Rochelle  in  1793.  He 
defeated  the  Vendeans  in  a  desperately  fought 
battle,  but  being  accused  of  insubordination  and 
leniency  towards  the  enemy,  he  was  brought  be- 
fore the  revolutionary  tribunal,  condemned  to 
death,  and  guillotined  at  Paris,  December  31, 
1793.  He  was  the  last  distinguished  representa- 
tive of  his  heroic  family,  and  is  supposed  to  have 
been  the  original  of  Gauvain  in  Victor  Hugo's 
historical  story  of  "  Ninety -Three." 


2G0 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


ROBESPIERRE,  DANTON,  AND   MARAT. 
BY    VICTOR    HUGO. 

'•HERE  was  a  public-house  in  the  Rue  du  Paon 
'  which  was  called  a  cafe.  This  cafe  had  a 
which  is  to-day  historical.     It   was 


ROBESPIERRE. 


there  that  often,  almost  secretly,  met  certain  men, 
so  powerful  and  so  constantly  watched  that  they 
hesitated  to  speak  with  one  another  in  public. 


On  the  28th  of  June,  1793,  three  men  were 
seated  about  a  table  in  this  back  chamber.  Their 
chairs  did  not  touch  ;  they  were  placed  one  on 
either  of  the  three  sides  of  the  table,  leaving  the 
fourth  vacant.     It  was  about  eight  o'clock  in  the 

evening ;  it  was  still 
light  in  the  street,  but 
dark  in  the  back  room, 
and  a  lamp,  hung  from 
a  hook  in  the  ceiling — 
a  luxury  there — lighted 
the  table. 

The  first  of  these 
three  men  was  pale, 
young,  grave,  with  thin 
lips  and  a  cold  glance. 
He  had  a  nervous 
movement  in  his  cheek, 
which  must  have  made 
it  difficult  for  him  to 
smile.  He  wore  his 
hair  powdered  ;  he  was 
gloved  ;  his  light  blue 
coat,  well  brushed,  was 
without  a  w  r  i  n  k  le , 
carefully  buttoned.  He 
wore  nankeen  breeches, 
white  stockings,  a  high 
cravat,  a  plaited  shirt- 
frill,  and  shoes  with  sil- 
ver buckles. 

Of  the  other  two  men, 
one  a  species  of  giant, 
the  other  a  sort  of 
dwarf.  The  tall  one 
was  untidily  dressed  in 
a  coat  of  scarlet  cloth, 
his  neck  bare,  his  un- 
knotted cravat  falling 
down  over  his  shirt- 
frill,  his  vest  gaping 
from  lack  of  buttons. 
He  wore  top-boots  ;  his 
hair  stood  stiffly  up  and 
was  disarranged, 
though  it  still  showed 
traces  of  powder ;  his 
very  peruke  wras  like  a 
mane.  His  face  was  marked  with  small-pox  ;  there 
was  a  choleric  line  between  his  brows  ;  a  wrinkle 
that  signified  kindness  at  the  corner  of  his  mouth  ; 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


261 


his  lips  were  thick,  the  teeth  large  ;  he  had  the 
fist  of  a  porter,  and  eyes  that  blazed.  The  little 
one  was  a  yellow  man,  who  looked  deformed 
when  seated.  He  carried  his  head  thrown  back, 
the  eyes  were  injected  with  blood,  there  were 
livid  blotches  on  his  face  ;  he  had  a  handkerchief 
knotted  about  his  greasy,  straight  hair  ;  he  had 
no  forehead  ;  the  mouth  was  enormous  and  horri- 
ble. He  wore  pantaloons  instead  of  knee-breeches, 
slippers,  a  waistcoat  which  seemed  originally  to 
have  been  of  white  satin,  and  over  this  a  loose 
jacket,  under  whose  folds  a  hard,  straight  line 
showed  that  a  poniard  was  hidden. 

The  first  of  these  men  was  named  Robespierre ; 
the  second,  Danton  ;  the  third,  Marat. 

They  were  alone  in  the  room.  Before  Danton 
was  set  a  glass  and  a  dusty  wine  bottle,  remind- 
ing one  of  Luther's  pint  of  beer  ;  before  Marat  a 
cup  of  coffee  ;  before  Robespierre  only  papers. 

Near  the  papers  stood  one  of  those  heavy, 
round,  ridged,  leaden  inkstands  which  will  be  re- 
membered by  men  who  were  school-boys  at  the 
beginning  of  this  century.  A  pen  was  thrown 
carelessly  by  the  side  of  the  inkstand.  On  the 
papers  lay  a  great  brass  seal,  on  which  could  be 
read  Palloy  fecit,  and  which  was  a  perfect  minia- 
ture model  of  the  Bastile. 

A  map  of  France  was  spread  in  the  middle  of 
the  table.  Outside  was  stationed  Marat's  ' '  watch- 
dog," a  certain  Laurent  Basse,  porter  on  No.  18 
Rue  des  Cordeliers,  who  some  fifteen  days  after 
this  28th  of  June,  say  the  13th  of  July,  was  to 
deal  a  blow  with  a  chair  on  the  head  of  a  woman 
named  Charlotte  Corday,  at  this  moment  vaguely 
dreaming  in  Caen.  Laurent  Basse  was  the  proof- 
carrier  of  the  Friend  ofihe  People.  Brought  this 
evening  by  his  master  to  the  cafe  of  the  Rue  du 
Paon,  he  had  been  ordered  to  keep  the  room 
closed  where  Marat,  Danton,  and  Robespierre 
were  seated,  and  to  allow  no  person  to  enter  un- 
less it  might  be  some  member  of  the  Committee 
of  Public  Safety,  the  Commune,  or  the  Eveche. 

Tne  conference  had  already  lasted  a  long  time. 
Ic  was  in  reference  to  papers  spread  on  the  table, 
which  Robespierre  had  read.  The  voices  began 
to  grow  louder.  Symptoms  of  anger  arose  be- 
tween these  three  men.  From  without  eager 
words  could  be  caught  at  angry  moments.  At 
that  period  the  example  of  the  public  tribunals 
seemed  to  have  created  the  right  to  listen  at 
doors.     It  was  the  time  when  the  copying-clerk 


Fabricius  Paris  looked  through  the  keyhole  at  the 
proceedings  of  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety  ; 
a  feat  which,  be  it  said  by  the  way,  was  not  with- 
out its  use,  for  it  was  this  Paris  who  warned  Dan- 
ton on  the  night  before  the  31st  of  March,  1794. 
Laurent  Basse  had  his  ear  to  the  door  of  the  back 
room  where  Danton,  Marat,  and  Robespierre 
were.  Laurence  Basse  served  Marat,  but  he  be- 
longed to  the  Eveche. 


DEATH  OF  KING    PHILIP. 

KING  PHILIP,  the  celebrated  Indian  chief, 
was  surprised  and  killed  by  a  party  of  men 
under  the  command  of  Capt.  Benjamin  Church, 
the  leader  of  the  movement  for  the  suppression 
of  the  marauding  bands  of  savages  that  infested 
the  New  England  colonies  during  the  17th  cen- 
tury. In  the  latter  part  of  his  life  Capt.  Church 
dictated  to  his  son  Thomas  an  account  of  his  cam- 
paigns and  adventures,  which  Thomas  subse- 
quently rewrote  and  published  in  book  form  in 
17 16.  From  this  interesting  work  we  copy  the 
following  account  of  the  death  of  King  Philip, 
which  differs  materially  from  descriptions  of  this 
event  as  published  in  our  leading  histories.  This 
is  no  doubt  the  true  account : 

Captain  Church  being  now  at  Plymouth  again, 
weary  and  worn,  would  have  gone  home  to  his 
wife  and  family,  but  the  government  being  solici- 
tous to  engage  him  in  the  service  until  Philip  was 
slain,  and  promising  him  satisfaction  and  redress 
for  some  mistreatment  that  he  had  met  with,  he 
fixes  for  another  expedition. 

He  had  soon  volunteers  enough  to  make  up  the 
company  he  desired,  and  marched  through  the 
woods  until  he  came  to  Pocasset.  And  not  seeing 
or  hearing  of  any  of  the  enemy,  they  went  over 
the  ferry  to  Rhode  Island,  to  refresh  themselves. 
The  captain,  with  about  half  a  dozen  in  his  com- 
pany, took  horses  and  rode  about  eight  miles 
down  the  island,  to  Mr.  Sanford's,  where  he  had 
left  his  wife.  She  no  sooner  saw  him,  but  fainted 
with  surprise  ;  and  by  that  time  she  was  a  little 
revived,  they  spied  two  horsemen  coming  a  great 
pace.  Captain  Church  told  his  company  that 
"Those  men  (by  their  riding)  come  with  tidings." 
When  they  came  up,  they  proved  to  be  Major 
Sanford  and  Captain  Golding.  They  immediately 
asked  Captain  Church  what  he  would  give  to  hear 
some  news  of  Philip  ?  He  replied  that  that  was 
what  he  wanted.     They  told  him  that  they  had 


202 


THE  WONDERFUL.   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


rode  hard  with  some  hopes  of  overtaking  him, 
and  were  now  come  on  purpose  to  inform  him 
that  there  were  j  ust  now  tidings  from  Mount  Hope. 
An  Indian  came  down  from  thence  (where  Philip's 
camp  now  was)  to  Sandy  Point,  over  against 
Trip's,  and  hallooed,  and  made  signs  to  be  fetched 
over.  And  being  fetched  over,  he  reported  that 
he  was  fled  from  Philip,  ' '  who  (said  he)  has  killed 
my  brother  just  before  I  came  away,  for  giving 
some  advice  that  displeased  him."  And  said  that 
he  was  fled  for  fear  of  meeting  with  the  same  his 
brother  had  met  with.  Told  them  also  that 
Philip  was  now  in  Mount  Hope  Neck.  Captain 
Church  thanked  them  for  their  good  news,  and 
said  that  he  hoped  by  to-morrow  morning  to  have 
the  rogue's  head.  The  horses  that  he  and  his 
company  came  on  standing  at  the  door  (for  they 
had  not  been  unsaddled),  his  wife  must  content 
herself  with  a  short  visit,  when  such  game  was 
ahead.  They  immediately  mounted,  set  spurs  to 
their  horses,  and  away. 

The  two  gentlemen  that  brought  him  the  tid- 
ings told  him  that  they  would  gladly  wait  upon 
him  to  see  the  event  of  the  expedition.  He 
thanked  them,  and  told  them  that  he  should  be 
as  fond  of  their  company  as  an}-  men's  ;  and  (in 
short )  they  went  with  him.  And  they  were  soon 
at  Trip's  ferry  (with  Captain  Church's  company), 
where  the  deserter  was.  He  was  a  fellow  of  good 
sense,  and  told  his  story  handsomely.  He  offered 
Captain  Church  to  pilot  him  to  Philip,  and  to  help 
to  kill  him,  that  he  might  revenge  his  brother's 
death.  Told  him  that  Philip  was  now  upon  a 
little  spot  of  upland,  that  was  in  the  south  end  of 
the  miry  swamp,  just  at  the  foot  of  the  mount, 
which  was  a  spot  of  ground  that  Captain  Church 
was  well  acquainted  with. 

By  that  time  they  were  over  the  ferry,  and  came 
near  the  ground,  half  the  night  was  spent.  The 
captain  commands  a  halt,  and  bringing  the  com- 
pany together,  he  asked  Major  Sanford's  and 
Captain  Golding's  advice,  what  method  it  was 
best  to  take  in  making  the  onset ;  but  they  de- 
clined giving  him  any  advice  ;  telling  him  that 
his  great  experience  and  success  forbid  their  tak- 
ing upon  them  to  give  advice.  Then  Captain 
Church  offered  Captain  Golding  the  honor  (if  he 
would  please  accept  of  it)  to  beat  up  Philip's 
headquarters.  He  accepted  the  offer  and  had  his 
allotted  number  drawn  out  to  him,  and  the  pilot. 
Captain  Church's  instructions  to  him  were,  to  be 


very  careful  in  his  approach  to  the  enemy,  and  be 
sure  not  to  show  himself,  until  by  daylight  they 
might  see  and  discern  their  own  men  from  the 
enemy  ;  told  him  also  that  his  custom  in  like  cases 
was  to  creep  with  his  company,  on  their  bellies, 
until  they  came  as  near  as  they  could  ;  and  that 
as  soon  as  the  enemy  discovered  them,  they  would 
cry  out,  and  that  was  the  word  for  his  men  to  fire 
and  fall  on.  He  directed  him,  that  when  the 
enemy  should  start  and  take  into  the  swamp,  that 
they  should  pursue  with  speed,  every  man  shout- 
ing and  making  what  noise  he  could  ;  for  he 
would  give  orders  to  his  ambuscade  to  fire  on  any 
that  should  come  silently. 

Captain  Church,  knowing  that  it  was  Philip's 
custom  to  be  foremost  in  the  flight,  went  down  to 
the  swamp,  and  gave  Captain  Williams  of  Scitu- 
ate  the  command  of  the  right  wing  of  the  ambush, 
and  placed  an  Englishman  and  an  Indian  together 
behind  such  shelters  of  trees,  etc.,  as  he  could 
find,  and  took  care  to  place  them  at  such  distance 
that  none  might  pass  undiscovered  between  them  ; 
charged  them  to  be  careful  of  themselves,  and  of 
hurting  their  friends,  and  to  fire  at  any  that  should 
come  silently  through  the  swamp.  But  it  being 
somewhat  farther  through  the  swamp  than  he  was 
aware  of,  he  wanted  men  to  make  up  his  ambuscade. 

Having  placed  what  men  he  had,  he  took  Major 
Sanford  by  the  hand,  and  said,  "Sir,  I  have  so 
placed  them  that  it  is  scarce  possible  Philip  should 
escape  them. ' '  The  same  moment  a  shot  whistled 
over  their  heads,  and  then  the  noise  of  a  gun  to- 
wards Philip's  camp.  Captain  Church,  at  first, 
thought  that  it  might  be  some  gun  fired  by  acci- 
dent ;  but  before  he  could  speak,  a  whole  volley 
followed,  which  was  earlier  than  he  expected. 
One  of  Philip's  gang  going  forth  a  little  to  one 
side  of  the  camp,  looked  round  him,  and  Cap- 
tain Golding  thought  that  the  Indian  looked  right 
at  him  f though  probably  it  was  but  his  conceit), 
so  fired  at  him  ;  and  upon  his  firing,  the  whole 
company  that  were  with  him  fired  upon  the 
enemy's  shelter,  before  the  Indians  had  time  to 
rise  from  their  sleep,  and  so  overshot  them.  But 
their  shelter  was  open  on  that  side  next  the 
swamp,  built  so  on  purpose  for  the  convenience  of 
flight  on  occasion.  They  were  soon  in  the  swamp, 
and  Philip  the  foremost,  who,  starting  at  the  first 
gun,  threw  his  petiuik  and  powderhorn  over  his 
head,  catched  up  his  gun,  and  ran  as  fast  as  he 
could  scamper,  without  any  more  clothes  than  his 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


263 


small  breeches  and  stockings  ;  and  ran  directly  on 
two  of  Captain  Church's  ambush.  They  let  him 
come  fair  within  shot,  and  the  Englishman's  gun 
missing  fire,  he  bid  the  Indian  fire  away,  and  he 
did  so  to  the  purpose  ;  sent  one  musket  bullet 
through  his  heart,  and  another  not  above  two 
inches  from  it.  He  fell  upon  his  face  in  the  mud 
and  water,  with  his  gun  under  him. 

By  the  time  the  enemy  perceived  that  they 
were  waylaid  on  the  east  side  of  the  swamp,  and 
tacked  short  about.  One  of  the  enemy,  who 
seemed  to  be  a  great,  surly  old  fellow,  hallooed 
with  a  loud  voice,  and  often  called  out,  "lootash, 
Iootash."  Captain  Church  called  to  his  Indian, 
Peter,  and  asked  him  who  that  was  that  called  so? 
He  answered  that  it  was  old  Anuawon,  Philip's 
great  captain,  calling  on  his  soldiers  to  stand  to 
it,  and  fight  stoutly.  Now  the  enemy  finding  that 
place  of  the  swamp  which  was  not  ambushed,  many 
of  them  made  their  escape  in  the  English  tracks. 

The  man  that  had  shot  down  Philip  ran  with 
all  speed  to  Captain  Church,  and  informed  him 
of  his  exploit,  who  commanded  him  to  be  silent 
about  it  and  let  no  man  more  know  it,  until  they 
had  driven  the  swamp  clean.  But  when  they  had 
driven  the  swamp  through,  and  found  that  the 
enemy  had  escaped,  or  at  least  the  most  of  them, 
and  the  sun  now  up,  and  so  the  dew  gone,  that 
the}"  could  not  easily  track  them,  the  whole  com- 
pany met  together  at  the  place  where  the  enemy's 
night  shelter  was,  and  then  Captain  Church  gave 
them  the  news  of  Philip's  death.  Upon  which 
the  whole  army  gave  three  loud  huzzas. 

Captain  Church  ordered  his  bod}-  to  be  pulled 
out  of  the  mire  to  the  upland.  So  some  of  Cap- 
tain Church's  Indians  took  hold  of  him  by  his 
stockings,  and  some  by  his  small  breeches  ( being 
otherwise  naked)  and  drew  him  through  the  mud 
to  the  upland  ;  and  a  doleful,  great,  naked,  dirtv 
beast  he  looked  like.  Captain  Church  then  said, 
that  forasmuch  as  he  had  caused  many  an  Eng- 
lishman's body  to  'be  unburied,  and  to  rot  above 
ground,  that  not  one  of  his  terns  should  be 
buried.  And  calling  his  old  Indian  executioner, 
bid  him  behead  and  quarter  him. 


DESPERATE  STRUGGLE    BETWEEN   CAPTAIN 
CHURCH    AND   AN   INDIAN. 

7FVE  copy  the  following  thrilling  account  of  a 
\Xj  desperate  hand-to-hand  encounter  between 
Capt.  Church  and   an   Indian  warrior,   from    the 


same  interesting  work  mentioned  in  the  preceding 
article  . 

Capt.  Church  had  been  severely  wounded  in  a 
combat  with  the  Indians,  and  was  removed,  with 
other  injured  men,  to  Rhode  Island,  where  he  re- 
mained for  three  months.  He  then  designed  re- 
'  turning  home,  as  his  wounds  were  not  yet  fully 
healed,  but  was  prevailed  upon  by  the  earnest 
solicitations  of  his  general,  to  accompany  him  on 
a  long  march  into  the  country  occupied  by  the 
Nipmucks.  We  give  the  history  of  the  march 
and  his  singular  and-  desperate  encounter  with  the 
savage  in  his  own  language,  as  dictated  to  his 
son  : 

In  this  march,  the  first  thing  remarkable  was, 
they  came  to  an  Indian  town,  where  there  were 
man}-  wigwams  in  sight,  but  an  icy  swamp,  lying 
between  them  and  the  wigwams,  prevented  their 
running  at  once  upon  it  as  they  intended.  There 
was  much  firing  upon  each  side  before  they  passed 
the  swamp.  But  at  length  the  enemy  all  fled, 
and  a  certain  Mohegan,  that  was  a  friendly 
Indian,  pursued  and  seized  one  of  the  enemy  that 
had  a  small  wound  in  his  leg,  and  brought  him 
before  the  General,  where  he  was  examined. 
Some  were  for  torturing  him  to  bring  him  to  a 
more  ample  confession  of  what  he  knew  concern- 
ing his  countrymen.  Mr.  Church  verily  believing 
that  he  had  been  ingenuous  in  his  confession,  in- 
terceded, and  prevailed  for  his  escaping  torture. 
But  the  army  being  bound  forward  in  their 
march,  and  the  Indian's  wound  somewhat  disen- 
abling him  for  travelling,  it  was  concluded  that 
he  should  be  knocked  on  the  head.  Accordingly, 
he  was  brought  before  a  great  fire,  and  the  Mohe- 
gan that  took  him  was  allowed,  as  he  desired,  to 
be  his  executioner.  Mr.  Church,  taking  no  de- 
light in  the  sport,  framed  an  errand  at  some  dis- 
tance among  the  baggage  horses,  and  when  he 
had  got  ten  rods  or  thereabouts,  from  the  fire,  the 
executioner  fetching  a  blow  with  a  hatchet  at  the 
head  of  the  prisoner,  he  being  aware  of  the  blow, 
dodged  his  head  aside,  and  the  executioner  miss- 
ing his  stroke,  the  hatchet  flew  out  of  his  hand, 
and  had  like  to  have  done  execution  where  it  was 
not  designed.  The  prisoner  upon  his  narrow  es- 
cape, broke  from  them  that  held  him,  and  not- 
withstanding his  wound,  made  use  of  his  legs, 
and  happened  to  run  right  upon  Mr.  Church,  who 
laid  hold  on  him,  and  a  close  scuffle  they  had  ; 
but  the  Indian  having  no  clothes  on,  slipped  from 


204 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


him  and  ran  again,  and  Mr.  Church  pursued  him, 
although  being  lame  there  was  no  great  odds  in 
the  race,  until  the  Indian  stumbled  and  fell,  and 
then  the}-  closed  again — scuffled  and  fought 
pretty  smartly,  until  the  Indian,  by  the  advantage 
of  his  nakedness,  slipped  from  his  hold  again, 
and  set  out  on  his  third  race,  with  Mr.  Church 
close  at  his  heels,  endeavouring  to  lay  hold  on 
the  hair  of  his  head,  which  was  all  the  hold  could 
be  taken  of  him.  And  running  through  a  swamp 
that  was  covered  with  hollow  ice,  it  made  so  loud 
a  noise  that  Mr.  Church  expected  (but  in  vain) 
that  some  of  his  English  friends  would  follow  the 
noise  and  come  to  his  assistance.  But  the  Indian 
happened  to  run  athwart  a  large  tree  that  lay 
fallen  near  breast  high,  where  he  stopped  and 
cried  out  aloud  for  help.  But  Mr.  Church  being 
soon  upon  him  again,  the  Indian  seized  him  fast 
by  the  hair  of  his  head,  and  endeavoured  by 
twisting  to  break  his  neck.  But  though  Mr. 
Church's  wounds  had  somewhat  weakened  him, 
and  the  Indian  a  stout  fellow,  yet  he  held  him 
in  play  and  twisted  the  Indian's  neck  as  well, 
and  took  advantage  of  many  opportunities,  while 
the}-  hung  by  each  other's  hair,  gave  him  notor- 
ious bunts  in  the  face  with  his  head.  But  in  the 
heat  of  the  scuffle  they  heard  the  ice  break,  with 
somebody's  coming  apace  to  them,  which  when 
they  heard,  Church  concluded  there  was  help  for 
o:ie  or  other  of  them,  but  was  doubtful  which  of 
them  must  now  receive  the  fatal  stroke — anon 
somebody  comes  up  to  them,  who  proved  to  be  the 
Indian  that  had  first  taken  the  prisoner  ;  and  with- 
out speaking  a  word,  he  felt  them  out,  (for  it  was 
so  dark  he  could  nut  distinguish  them  by  sight, 
the  one  being  clothed  and  the  other  naked)  he 
felt  where  Mr.  Church's  hands  were  fastened  in 
the  Netop's  hair,  and  with  one  blow  settled  his 
hatchet  in  between  them,  and  thus  ended  the 
strife.  He  then  spoke  to  Mr.  Church  and  hugged 
him  in  his  arms,  and  thanked  him  abundantly  for 
catching  his  prisoner.  He  then  cut  off  the  head 
of  his  victim  and  carried  it  to  the  camp,  and  after 
giving  an  account  to  the  rest  of  the  friend  Indians 
in  the  camp  how  Mr.  Church  had  seized  his  pris- 
oner, &c,  they  all  joined  in  a  mighty  shout. 


INDIAN   SUPERSTITIONS. 

mANY  of  the  customs  and  superstitions  of 
the    Indians,  as  they  existed  at  the  time 
of  the  discoverv  of  America  and  for  one  or  two 


centuries  afterward,  were  of  the  most  peculiar 
and  interesting  character,  differing  in  many  re- 
spects from  those  of  any  other  race  or  people. 
We  copy  a  history  of  some  of  these  peculiarities 
from  the  writings  of  David  Brainerd,  who  served 
as  a  missionary  among  the  tribes  of  Pennsyl- 
vania and  New  Jersey  for  some  years  during  the 
first  half  of  the  eighteenth  century.  The  work 
from  which  we  quote  was  published  about  one 
hundred  and  fifty  years  ago. 

When  I  was  in  this  region  in  May  last,  I  had 
an  opportunity  of  learning  many  of  the  notions  and 
customs  of  the  Indians,  as  well  as  observing  many 
of  their  practices.  I  then  travelled  more  than  an 
hundred  and  thirty  miles  upon  the  river,  above  the 
English  settlements  ;  and,  in  that  journey,  met 
with  individuals  of  seven  or  eight  distinct  tribes, 
speaking  as  many  different  languages.  But  of  all 
the  sights  I  ever  saw  among  them,  or  indeed  any 
where  else,  none  appeared  so  frightful,  or  so  near 
akin  10  what  is  usually  imagined  of  infernal  pow- 
ers, none  ever  excited  such  images  of  terror  in  my 
mind,  as  the  appearance  of  one  who  was  a  devout 
and  zealous  Reformer,  or  rather,  restorer  of  what 
he  supposed  was  the  ancient  religion  of  the  In- 
dians. He  made  his  appearance  in  his  pontifical 
garb,  which  was  a  coat  of  boar  skins,  dressed  with 
the  hair  on,  and  hanging  down  to  his  toes  ;  a  pair 
of  bear  skin  stockings ;  and  a  great  wooden  face 
painted,  the  one-half  back,  the  other  half  tawny, 
about  the  color  of  an  Indian's  skin,  with  an  ex- 
travagant mouth,  cut  very  much  awry  ;  the  face 
fastened  to  a  bear-skin  cap,  which  was  drawn 
over  his  head.  He  advanced  towards  me  with  the 
instrument  in  his  hand,  which  he  used  for  music 
in  his  idolatrous  worship  ;  which  was  a  dry  tor- 
toise shell  with  some  corn  in  it,  and  the  neck  of  it 
drawn  on  to  a  piece  of  wood,  which  made  a  very 
convenient  handle.  As  he  came  forward,  he  beat 
his  tune  with  the  rattle,  and  danced  with  all  his 
might,  but  did  not  suffer  any  part  of  his  body, 
not  so  much  as  his  fingers,  to  be  seen.  No  one 
would  have  imagined  from  his  appearance  or  ac- 
tions, that  he  could  have  been  a  human  creature, 
if  the}-  had  not  had  some  intimation  of  it  other- 
wise. When  he  came  near  me,  I  could  not  but 
shrink  away  from  him,  although  it  was  then  noon 
day,  and  I  knew  who  it  was  :  his  appearance  and 
gestures  were  so  prodigiously  frightful.  He  had 
a  house  consecrated  to  religious  uses,  with  divers 
images  cut  upon  the  several  parts  of  it.     I  went 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


265 


in,  and  found  the  ground  beat  almost  as  hard  as  a 
rock,  with  their  frequent  dancing  upon  it.  I  dis- 
coursed with  him  about  Christianity.  Some  of  my 
discourse  he  seemed  to  like,  but  some  of  it  he  dis- 
liked extremely.  He  told  me  that  God  had 
taught  him  his  religion,  and  that  he  never  would 
turn  from  it ;  but  wanted  to  find  some  who  would 
join  heartily  with  him  in  it ;  for  the  Indians,  he 
said,  were  grown  very  degenerate  and  corrupt. 
He  had  thoughts,  he  said,  of  leaving  all  his  friends, 
and  travelling  abroad,  in  order  to  find  some  who 
would  join  with  him  ;  for  he  believed  that  God 
had  some  good  people  some  where,  who  felt  as  he 
did.  He  had  not  always,  he  said,  felt  as  he  now 
did  ;  but  had  formerly  been  like  the  rest  of  the 
Indians,  until  about  four  or  five  years  before  that 
time.  Then,  he  said,  his  heart  was  very  much  dis- 
tressed, so  that  he  could  not  live  among  the  In- 
dians, but  got  away  into  the  woods,  and  lived 
alone  for  some  months.  At  length,  he  says,  God 
comforted  his  heart,  and  showed  him  what  he 
should  do  ;  and  since  that  time  he  had  known 
God,  and  tried  to  serve  him  ;  and  loved  all  men, 
be  they  who  they  would,  so  as  he  never  did  be- 
fore. He  treated  me  with  uncommon  courtesy, 
and  seemed  to  be  heart}-  in  it.  I  was  told  by  the 
Indians,  that  he  opposed  their  drinking  strong 
liquor  with  all  his  power  ;  and  that,  if  at  any  time 
he  could  not  dissuade  them  from  it  by  all  he  could 
say,  he  would  leave  them,  and  go  crying  into  the 
woods.  It  was  manifest  that  he  had  a  set  of  reli- 
gious notions  which  he  had  examined  for  himself, 
and  not  taken  for  granted,  upon  bare  tradition  ; 
and  be  relished  or  disrelished  whatever  was  spoken 
of  a  religious  nature,  as  it  either  agreed  or  dis- 
agreed with  his  standard.  While  I  was  discours- 
ing, he  would  sometimes  say,  "Now  that  I  like; 
so  God  has  taught  me;"  &c,  and  some  of  his 
sentiments  seemed  very  just.  Yet  he  utterly  de- 
nied the  existence  of  a  devil,  and  declared  there 
was  no  such  creature  known  among  the  Indians 
of  old  times,  whose  religion  he  supposed  he  was 
attempting  to  revive.  He  likewise  told  me,  that 
departed  souls  all  went  southward,  and  that  the 
difference  between  the  good  and  the  bad,  was  this  : 
that  the  former  were  admitted  into  a  beautiful 
town  with  spiritual  walls  :  and  that  the  latter 
would  for  ever  hover  around  these  walls,  in  vain 
attempts  to  get  in.  He  seemed  to  be  sincere,  hon- 
est, and  conscientious  in  his  own  way,  and  accord- 
ing to  his  own  religious  notions  ;  which  was  more 


than  I  ever  saw  in  any  other  Pagan.  I  perceived 
that  he  was  looked  upon  and  derided  among  most 
of  the  Indians,  as  a  precise  zealot,  who  made  a 
needless  noise  about  religious  matters  ;  but  I  must 
say  that  there  was  something  in  his  temper  and 
disposition,  which  looked  more  like  true  religion, 
than  any  thing  I  ever  observed  amongst  other 
heathens. 


BAYARD,  THE   HERO   OF  CHIVALRY. 

The  brightest  pages  in  the  annals  of  chivalry 
and  knight-errantry  are  those  which  record  the 
brilliant  deeds  of  Bayard.  He  lived  at  a  time 
when  the  strict  laws  of  chivalry  were  becoming 
greatly  relaxed,  and  when  knights  were  assum- 
ing the  vices  as  well  as  the  profession  of  mere 
soldiers  of  fortune ;  but  no  breath  of  dishonor 
ever  tarnished  his  fame.  His  loyalty,  purity  of 
character  and  scrupulous  honor  won  the  uni- 
versal admiration  of  his  contemporaries,  friends 
and  foes  alike  uniting  in  proclaiming  him  "the 
good  knight"  and  above  all  reproach. 

The  correct  orthography  of  his  name,  accord- 
ing to  his  original  signatures  preserved  in  the 
National  Library  at  Paris,  is  Bayart,  but  he  is 
better  known  under  the  name  that  has  become  a 
synonym  for  gallantry  and  heroism. 

He  was  born  at  the  Chateau  de  Bayard,  in 
Dauphiny,  France,  in  1475,  the  exact  date  and 
month  being  unknown.  His  family  was  an 
ancient  and  honorable  one,  and  had  produced  sev- 
eral brilliant  warriors  before  his  advent.  They 
were  a  race  of  warriors.  His  great-great-grand- 
father was  killed  at  the  battle  of  Poitiers,  his 
great-grandfather  at  Crecy,  and  his  grandfather 
at  Montlhery,  while  his  father  received  many 
honorable  wounds  in  the  wars  of  Louis  XL 
Young  Bayard,  while  serving  as  page  to  the 
Duke  of  Savoy,  and  in  the  household  of  Paul  of 
Luxembourg,  received  his  education  in  the  rules 
of  chivalry,  in  horsemanship,  and  in  feats  of 
arms.  When  only  eighteen  years  of  age,  his 
martial  valor  and  desire  for  military  glory  led 
him  to  enlist  under  the  banners  of  Charles  VIII., 
in  the  expedition  against  Naples,  and  in  the 
hotly  contested  battle  of  Fornovo  he  won  the  ad- 
miration of  his  companions  and  the  favorable 
notice  of  his  king  by  a  desperate  hand-to-hand 
combat  in  which  he  captured  a  stand  of  colors. 
On  a  certain  occasion,  during  the  siege  of  Milan 
in    1499,  the  enemy  made  a  strong  sortie  from 


266 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


their  works,  but  were  defeated  and  driven  hack  ; 
and  in  the  eagerness  of  pursuit,  Bayard  was  car- 
ried by  the  press  within  the  walls  of  the  city  and 
captured  ;  but  even  at  that  earl}-  age  his  reputa- 
tion for  honor  and  valor  was  so  great  that  he  was 
liberated  by  his  admiring  enemies,  and  conducted 
in  safety  to  the  lines  of  the  French  army,  with 
his  horse  and  armor,  and  without  ransom  or 
parole.  He  was  admired  and  honored  equally 
by  friends  and  foes,  because  all  men  naturally 
love  the  true  and  the  noble.  On  another  occa- 
sion, during  the  war  with  Spain,  when  the 
battle  had  gone  against  the  French  and  they 
were  in  full  retreat,  two  hundred  steel-clad 
Spanish  knights,  mounted  on  fresh  horses,  and 
with  their  lances  firmly  fixed,  came  dashing  down 
upon  the  devoted  army.  Such  an  attack  in  that 
moment  of  rout  and  peril  meant  certain  destruc- 
tion. It  was  like  a  Grecian  phalanx  crashing 
into  the  confused  mass  of  a  defeated  army.  Fright 
and  despair  blanched  the  cheeks  of  the  French 
troops  as  they  saw  this  dreadful  array  of  glitter- 
ing spears  bearing  down  upon  them.  But  the 
magnificent  courage  of  a  single  man  turned  the 
tide  and  saved  the  army.  Between  the  flying 
French  and  the  plunging  column  of  Spanish 
horsemen  there  was  a  deep  and  rapid  stream, 
spanned  by  a  narrow  bridge,  over  which  the 
Spaniards  were  compelled  to  pass.  Bayard's 
quick  eye  saw  the  opportunity,  and  dashing  the 
spurs  into  the  foaming  flanks  of  his  jaded  war- 
horse,  he  threw  himself  upon  the  bridge  and 
awaited  the  shock.  It  came  in  all  its  power 
and  ferocity,  but  he  held  his  own,  and  with  his 
battle-axe  hewed  bloody  gaps  in  the  ranks  of  the 
astonished  Spaniards.  They  hesitated  and  re- 
coiled, and  then  came  on  again  with  redoubled 
energy  ;  but  the  gallant  Bayard  cut  to  the  right 
and  left  and  soon  built  a  rampart  in  front  of  him 
with  the  bodies  of  the  dead  and  wounded.  Thus 
he  held  the  two  hundred  in  check  until  the 
French,  having  recovered  from  their  panic  and 
gained  a  place  of  security,  he  turned  and  fol- 
lowed them,  amidst  the  admiring  shouts  of  both 
armies.  The  Spaniards  did  not  attempt  to  pur- 
sue, for  they  were  satisfied  with  that  display  of 
his  prowess  and  courage  which  they  had  wit- 
nessed upon  the  bridge,  and  they  suffered  the  de- 
feated army  to  withdraw  in  safety. 

In  the  assault  upon  Bresica  Bayard  was  severely 
wounded,  and  carried  to  a  house  in  the  town,  oc- 


cupied only  by  a  lady  and  her  two  danghters. 
Soon  afterward  the  house  was  entered  by  a  party 
of  half-frenzied  soldiers,  who,  not  being  aware- 
of  the  knight's  presence,  proceeded  to  insult  the 
ladies  in  the  grossest  and  most  brutal  manner. 
This  aroused  the  hot  blood  of  the  gallant  Bayard, 
who,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  was  almost  dis- 
abled by  his  wounds,  arose  from  his  couch,  and. 
charging  among  them  with  his  sword,  drove  them 
into  the  street.  For  this  valiant  and  timely  ser- 
vice the  hostess  presented  him  with  two  thousand, 
pistoles,  which  with  knightly  eourtes}-  he  imme- 
diately gave  to  the  young  ladies  for  a  marriage 
portion. 

In  the  battle  of  Guinegate,  fought  on  the  16th 
of  August,  1 513,  between  the  French  and  the 
army  of  Henry  VIII.,  of  England,  Bayard,  as- 
sisted by  only  twelve  men-at-arms,  held  the  entire 
English  army  at  bay  until  the  French,  who  were 
panic-stricken  and  in  full  retreat,  had  time  to  re- 
cover. This  battle  was  called  by  the  English 
"  the  battle  of  the  spurs,"  because  they  claimed 
that  the  French  made  a  better  use  of  their  spurs 
than  their  arms  during  the  fight. 

After  the  victory  of  Marignano,  known  in  his- 
tory as  "  the  battle  of  the  giants,"  and  which  was 
won  principally  through  the  bravery  and  sagacity 
of  Bayard,  Francis  I.  was  so  delighted  with  his- 
feats  of  valor,  that  he  requested  the  honor  of 
being  knighted  by  his  hands,  a  mark  of  distinc- 
tion never  offered  by  any  other  royal  ruler  to  a 
subject.  In  1522,  with  a  force  of  only  one  thou- 
sand men,  he  defended  the  unfortified  town  of 
Mezieres  for  six  weeks  against  an  army  of  35,000, 
aided  by  artillery.  For  this  gallant  service  he  re- 
ceived the  collar  of  St.  Michael,  and  was  made  a 
commander  of  one  hundred  men-at-arms,  a  posi- 
tion until  then  never  held  except  by  princes  of 
the  blood  royal. 

But  it  was  in  his  last  battle  that  he  won  his 
most  enduring  fame.  When  he  came  to  face  the 
infinite  he  showed  himself  godlike.  Although 
he  had  been  deservedly  promoted  to  the  rank  of 
lieutenant-general,  for  his  many  acts  of  valor  and 
his  sendees  to  his  king  and  country,  yet  when 
called  upon  to  serve  in  a  subordinate  position  in 
the  army  of  Bonnivet,  which  Francis  was  sending 
into  Italy  to  fight  against  the  Constable  de  Bour- 
bon, he  did  not  hesitate,  but  came  forward  and 
took  his  place  cheerfully  and  with  enthusiasm. 
When  Bonnivet  was  defeated   and  wounded,   he 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


267 


wisely  entrusted  the  command  of  the  army  to  the 
sagacious  and  ever-valiant  Bayard,  who  restored 
order  and  would  doubtless  have  gained  a  victory, 
if  he  had  not  been' wounded  by  a  stone  discharged 
from  an  arquebuse.  Realizing  that  his  wound 
was  mortal,  at  his  own  request  he  was  left  seated 
against  a  tree,  with  his  face  toward  the  advancing 
enemy,  among  whom  he  soon  afterward  expired. 
His  death  ended  the  battle,  for  the  French,  learn- 
ing that  he  had  fallen,  broke  into  a  disorderly 
flight,  abandoning  their  standards,  ordnance  and 
baggage,  and  seeking  only  to  save  their  lives. 
When  Bayard  fell,  France  lost  more  than  an 
army  ;  she  lost  the  soul  of  chivalry,  and  the 
genius  of  victory. 


INCIDENTS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

7TVE  obtain  the  following  interesting  incidents 
\XJ  of  the  American  Revolution  from  the 
writings  of  Mercy  Warren,  who  was  a  witness  of 
the  events  described  : 

Last  Thursday,  which  was  a  very  stormy  day, 
a  large  number  of  British  troops  came  softly 
through  the  town,  via  Watertown,  to  Prospect 
Hill.  On  Friday  we  heard  the  Hessians  were  to 
make  a  procession  in  the  same  route.  We  thought 
we  should  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  view  them 
as  they  passed.  To  be  sure  the  sight  was  truly 
astonishing.  I  never  had  the  least  idea  that  the 
creation  produced  such  a  sordid  set  of  creatures  in 
human  figure — poor,  dirty,  emaciated  men.  Great 
numbers  of  women,  who  seemed  to  be  the  beasts 
of  burden,  having  bushel-baskets  on  their  backs, 
by  which  they  were  bent  double.  The  contents 
seemed  to  be  pots  and  kettles,  various  sorts  of  fur- 
niture, children  peeping  through  gridirons,  and 
other  utensils — some  very  young  infants,  who 
were  born  on  the  road — the  women  barefoot, 
clothed  in  dirty  rags.  Such  effluvia  filled  the  air 
while  they  were  passing,  that,  had  they  not  been 
smoking  all  the  time,  I  should  have  been  appre- 
hensive of  being  contaminated. 

The  same  writer  gives  this  anecdote  of  General 
Burgoyne : 

General  Burgoyne  dined  on  Saturday,  in  Boston, 

with  General .     He  rode  through  the  town 

properly  attended,  down  Court  street,  and  through 
the  main  street ;  and  on  his  return  walked  on  foot 
to  Charlestown  Ferry,  followed  by  as  great  a 
number  of  spectators  as  ever  attended  a  pope  ;  and 
generously  observed  to  an  officer  with  him,  the 


decent  and  modest  behaviour  of  the  inhabitants 
as  he  passed  ;  saying,  if  he  had  been  conducting 
prisoners  through  the  city-  of  London,  not  all  the 
Guards  of  his  Majesty  could  have  prevented 
insults.  He  likewise  acknowledges  Lincoln  and 
Arnold  to  be  great  generals. 


AN  AFRICAN   IDEA  OF  THE  ORIGIN  OF  EVIL. 

IN  one  of  his  letters,  John  Adams,  the  Ameri- 
can statesman,  gives  the  following  account  of 
an  intelligent  negro's  description  of  the  creation 
of  the  world  : 

The  negro  had  been  brought  from  his  own  coun- 
try to  America  and  sold  as  a  slave,  but  soon  mani- 
festing a  degree  of  intelligence  above  his  race,  he 
was  treated  with  respect  and  consideration.  On 
one  occasion  he  was  present  in  a  company  of  gen- 
tlemen who  were  discussing  the  question  of 
Adam's  fall  and  the  introduction  of  natural  and 
moral  evil  into  the  world,  when  he  said  that  they 
had  in  his  country  a  different  account  of  this, 
matter. 

' '  A  dog  and  a  toad  were  to  run  a  race, ' '  said 
he,  "  and  if  the  dog  reached  the  goal  first,  the 
world  was  to  continue  innocent  and  happy,  but  if 
the  toad  should  outstrip  the  dog,  the  world  was  to 
become  sinful  and  miserable.  Everybody  thought 
there  could  be  no  danger ;  but  in  the  midst  of 
their  career  the  dog  found  a  bone  by  the  way,  and 
stopped  to  gnaw  it  ;  and  while  he  was  so  engaged, 
the  toad,  constant  in  his  malevolence,  hopped  oil,, 
reached  the  mark,  and  spoiled  the  world." 


COL.  PUTNAM'S    INDIAN  STORY. 

mR.  ADAMS  also  relates  the  following   In- 
dian story-,  which  was  told  him  by  the  old 
Revolutionary  hero,  Israel  Putnam  : 

Col.  Putnam  told  a  story  of  an  Indian  upon 
Connecticut  river,  who  called  at  a  tavern,  in  the 
fall  of  the  year,  for  a  dram.  The  landlord  asked 
him  two  coppers  for  it.  The  next  spring,  happen- 
ing at  the  same  house,  he  called  for  another, 
and  had  three  coppers  to  pay  for  it.  ' '  How  is 
this,  landlord,"  said  he;  "last  fall  you  asked 
but  two  coppers  for  a  glass  of  rum,  now  yon 
ask  three."  "Oh,"  says  the  landlord,  "it  cost 
me  a  good  deal  to  keep  'em  over  winter.  It  is  as- 
expensive  to  keep  a  hogshead  of  rum  over  winter 
as  a  horse. "  "  Ay  ! ' '  says  the  Indian,  ' '  I  can't  see 
through  that ;  he  won't  eat  so  much  hay — maybe 
he   drink    as  much  ?ca/er."      "This,"    says    Mr. 


r?ss) 


THE  BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


269 


Adams,  "was  sheer  wit,  pure  satire,  and  true 
humor  from  a  source  generally  supposed  to  be 
void  of  these  faculties." 


VOLTAIRE  AND   FRANKLIN. 

THE  following  anecdote  about  Voltaire  and 
Franklin  has  been  incorporated  in  a  num- 
ber of  our  histories,  without  its  origin  being 
given.  It  occurs  for  the  first  time  in  a  letter 
written  by  John  Adams,  from  Paris,  April  29, 
1778.     He  says  : 

After  dinner  we  went  to  the  Academy  of 
Science,  and  heard  M.  d'Alembert,  as  perpetual 
secretary,  pronounce  eulogies  upon  several  of 
their  members,  lately  deceased.  Voltaire  and 
Franklin  were  both  present,  and  there  presents- 
arose  a  general  cry  that  M.  Voltaire  and  M.  Frank- 
lin should  be  introduced  to  each  other.  This  was 
no  satisfaction  ;  there  must  be  something  more. 
Neither  of  the  philosophers  seemed  to  divine  what 
was  wished  or  expected  ;  they  however,  took  each 
other  by  the  hand.  But  this  was  not  enough  ;  the 
clamor  continued,  until  the  explanation  came  out. 
"II  faut  s'embraiser  a  la  Francoise."  The  two 
aged  actors  upon  this  great  theatre  of  philosophy 
then  embraced  each  other,  by  hugging  one  an- 
other in  their  arms,  and  kissing  each  other's 
cheeks,  and  then  the  tumult  subsided. 


HISTORICAL  LETTERS  FROM  JOHN  ADAMS  TO 
HIS  WIFE. 

THE  first  letter  relates  some  very  interesting 
private  information  about  General  Arnold, 
and  very  much  to  the  latter's  credit.  It  has  been 
asserted  that  Arnold  was  driven  into  his  treason- 
able course  through  the  intrigues  of  the  supporters 
of  Gen.  Gates,  who  at  that  time  were  doing  their 
best  to  put  him  in  Washington's  place,  but  found 
an  insurmountable  obstacle  in  Gen.  Arnold,  who 
was  an  unswerving  friend  of  the  great  commander- 
in-chief.  Finding  that  they  could  not  win  him  to 
their  side,  they  determined  to  force  him  out  of  the 
army,  and  with  this  end  in  view  they  pursued  a 
course  which  so  irritated  and  inflamed  him  that, 
hoping  to  obtain  revenge,  he  began  his  negotia- 
tions with  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  and  the  force  of  cir- 
cumstances impelled  him  onward  to  open  treason. 
Whether  there  is  any  ground  for  this  view  of  the 
case  or  not,  it  is  quite  evident,  from  the  tone  of 
Mr.  Adams's  letter,  that  his  sympathies  at  that 
time  were  very  decidedly  with  Arnold,  and  he  was 


not  a  man  who  could  be  easily  deceived  or  misled. 
The  letter  is  dated  at  Philadelphia,  May  22d, 
1780,  only  three  months  before  the  capture  of 
Andre  and  flight  of  Arnold  from  West  Point : 

After  a  series  of  the  severest  and  harshest 
weather  that  I  ever  felt  in  this  climate,  we  are  at 
last  blessed  with  a  bright  sun  and  a  soft  air.  The 
weather  here  has  been  like  our  old  easterly  winds 
to  me  and  southerly  winds  to  you.  The  charms 
of  the  morning  at  this  hour  are  irresistible.  The 
streaks  of  glory  dawning  in  the  east  ;  the  fresh- 
ness and  purity  in  the  air,  the  bright  blue  of  the 
sky,  the  sweet  warblings  of  a  great  variety  of 
birds  intermingling  with  the  martial  clarions  of  a 
hundred  cocks  now  within  my  hearing,  all  con- 
spire to  cheer  the  spirits. 

This  kind  of  puerile  description  is  a  very  pretty 
employment  for  an  old  fellow  whose  brow  is  fur- 
rowed with  the  cares  of  politics  and  war.  I  shall 
be  on  horseback  in  a  few  minutes,  and  then  I 
shall  enjoy  the  morning  in  more  perfection.  I 
spent  the  last  evening  at  the  war  office  with  Gen- 
eral Arnold.  He  has  been  basely  slandered  and 
libelled.  The  regulars  say,  "he  fought  like- 
Julius  Caesar  "  [at  Danbury].  I  am  wearied  to 
death  with  the  wranglings  between  military  officers, 
high  and  low.  They  quarrel  like  cats  and  dogs. 
They  worry  one  another  like  mastiffs,  scrambling 
for  rank  and  pay,  like  apes  for  nuts.  I  believe 
there  is  no  one  principle  which  predominates  in 
human  nature  so  much,  in  every  stage  of  life, 
from  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  in  males  and  females, 
old  and  young,  black  and  white,  rich  and  poor, 
high  and  low,  as  this  passion  for  superiority. 
Every  human  being  compares  itself  in  its  imagin- 
ation with  every  other  round  about  it,  and  will 
find  some  superiority  over  every  other,  real  or 
imaginary,  or  it  will  die  of  grief  and  vexation. 
I  have  seen  it  among  boys  and  girls  at  school, 
among  lads  at  college,  among  practitioners  at  the 
bar,  among  the  clergy  in  their  associations,  among 
clubs  of  friends,  among  the  people  in  town  meet- 
ings, among  the  members  of  a  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives, among  the  grave  councillors,  on  the 
more  solemn  bench  of  Justice,  and  in  that  awfully 
august  body,  the  Congress,  and  on  many  of  its 
committees,  and  among  ladies  everywhere  ;  but  I 
never  saw  it  operate  with  such  keenness,  ferocity, 
and  fury,  as  among  military  officers.  They  will 
go  terrible  lengths  in  their  emulation,  their  envy 
and  revenge,  in  consequence  of  it. 


270 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


So  much  for  philosophy.  I  hope  my  five  or  six 
babes  are  all  well.  My  duty  to  my  mother  and 
your  father,  and  love  to  sisters  and  brothers, 
aunts  and  uncles.  Pray  how  does  your  asparagus 
perform  ?  &C.  I  would  give  three  guineas  for  a 
barrel  of  your  cider.  Not  one  drop  is  to  be  had 
here  for  gold,  and  wine  is  not  to  be  had  under  six 
or  eight  dollars  a  gallon,  and  that  very  bad.  I 
would  give  a  guinea  for  a  barrel  of  your  beer. 
The  small  beer  here  is  wretchedly  bad.  In  short, 
I  can  get  nothing  that  I  can  drink,  and  I  believe 
I  shall  be  sick  from  this  cause  alone.  Rum  at 
fort}-  shillings  a  gallon,  and  bad  water  will  never 
do,  in  this  hot  climate,  in  summer,  when  acid 
liquors  are  necessary  against  putrefaction. 

The  second  letter  to  his  wife  was  written  two 
years  previous  to  the  above,  from  Passy,  France, 
and  is  full  of  pleasant  gossip,  such  as  the  ladies 
love.  The  reference  to  Franklin's  gallantry  with 
the  ladies  brings  that  philosopher  down  to  the 
comprehension  of  ordinary  men,  and  makes  us 
love  him  all  the  more  : 

Passy,  April  25th,  1778. 
Mv  Dearest  Friend  : — 

Monsieur  Chaumont  has  just  informed  me  of  a 
vessel  bound  to  Boston,  but  I  am  reduced  to  such 
a  moment  of  time,  that  I  can  only  inform  you 
that  I  am  well,  and  enclose  a  few  lines  from 
Johnny  to  let  you  know  that  he  is  so.  I  have 
ordered  the  things  you  desired  to  be  sent  you,  but 
I  will  not  yet  say  by  what  conveyance,  for  fear  of 
accidents. 

If  human  nature  could  be  made  happy  by  any 
thing  that  can  please  the  eye,  the  ear,  the  taste, 
or  any  other  sense,  or  passion,  or  fancy,  this 
country  would  be  the  region  for  happiness.  But 
if  my  country  were  at  peace,  I  should  be  happier 
among  the  rocks  and  shades  of  Penn's  hill ;  and 
would  cheerfully  exchange  all  the  elegance,  mag- 
nificence, and  sublimity  of  Europe,  for  the  sim- 
plicity of  Braintree  and  Weymouth. 

To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  admire  the  ladies  here. 
Don't  be  jealous.  They  are  handsome,  and  very 
well  educated.  Their  accomplishments  are  ex- 
ceedingly brilliant,  and  their  knowledge  of  letters 
and  arts  exceeds  that  of  the  English  ladies,  I 
believe. 

Tell  Mrs.  Warren  that  I  shall  write  her  a  letter, 
as  she  desired,  and  let  her  know  some  of  my  re- 
flections in  this  country.  My  venerable  colleague 
{Dr.   Franklin]  enjoys  a    privilege   here,   that  is 


much  to  be  envied.  Being  seventy  years  of  age, 
the  ladies  not  only  allow  him  to  embrace  them  as 
often  as  he  pleases,  but  they  are  perpetually  em- 
bracing him.  I  told  him,  yesterday,  I  would 
write  this  to  America. 


Mrs.  Adams  to  her  Husband,  on    His    Election  to  the 
Presidency. 

Quincy,  February  Sth,  1797. 
"  The  sun  is  dressed  in  brighest  beams, 
To  give  thy  houors  to  the  day." 

And  may  it  prove  an  auspicious  prelude  to  each 
ensuing  season.  You  have  this  day  to  declare 
yourself  head  of  a  nation.  ' '  And  now,  O  Lord, 
my  God,  thou  hast  made  thy  servant  ruler  over 
the  people.  Give  unto  him  an  understanding 
heart,  that  he  may  know  how  to  go  out  and  come 
in  before  this  great  people  ;  that  he  may  discern 
between  good  and  bad.  For  who  is  able  to 
judge  this  thy  so  great  a  people  ?  ' '  were  the  words 
of  a  royal  sovereign  ;  and  not  less  applicable  to 
him  who  is  invested  with  the  chief  magistracy  of 
a  nation,  though  he  wear  not  a  crown,  nor  the 
robes  of  royalty. 

My  thoughts  and  my  meditations  are  with  you, 
though  personally  absent ;  and  my  petitions  to 
Heaven  are,  that  "the  things  which  make  for 
peace  may  not  be  hidden  from  your  eyes."  My 
feelings  are  not  those  of  pride  or  ostentation,  upon 
the  occasion.  They  are  solemnized  by  a  sense  of 
the  obligations,  the  important  trusts,  and  numer- 
ous duties  connected  with  it.  That  you  may  be 
enabled  to  discharge  them  with  honor  to  yourself, 
with  justice  and  impartiality  to  your  country,  and 
with  satisfaction  to  this  great  people,  shall  be  the 
daily  prayer  of  your  wife. 


THE  REVOLUTION  IN  PARIS. 

BY   VICTOR   HUGO. 

PEOPLE  lived  in  public  ;  they  ate  at  tables 
spread  outside  the  doors  ;  women  seated  on 
the  steps  of  the  churches  made  lint  as  they  sang 
the  Marseillaise .  Park  Monceaux  and  the  Lux- 
embourg Gardens  were  parade-grounds.  There 
were  gunsmiths'  shops  in  full  work  ;  they  manu- 
factured muskets  before  the  eyes  of  the  passers-by; 
who  clapped  their  hands  in  applause.  The  watch- 
word  on  every  lip  was,  "  Patience  ;  we  are  in  Revo- 
lution." The  people  smiled  heroically.  They 
went  to  the  theatre  as  they  did  at  Athens  during 
the  Peloponnesian  war.     One  saw  play-bills  such 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


271 


as  these  pasted  at  the  street  corners  !  "  The  Siege  above  her  head.  A  solicitor  named  Seran,  who 
of  Thionville  ;  "A  Mother  Saved  from  the  had  been  denounced,  awaited  his  arrest  in  dress- 
Flames;"  "The  Club  of  the  Careless;"  "The  ing-gown  and  slippers,  playing  his  flute  at  his 
Eldest  of  the  Popes  Joan  ;  "  "  The  Philosopher-  window.  Nobody  seemed  to  have  leisure  ;  all  the 
Soldiers  ;  "    "  The  Art  of  Village  Love-making."  world  was  in  a  hurry.    Every  hat  bore  a  cockade. 


WOMEN    AT  THE    BARRIERS. 


The  Germans  were  at  the  gates  ;  a  report  was 
current  that  the  King  of  Prussia  had  secured 
boxes  at  the  opera.  Everything  was  terrible, 
and  no  one  was  frightened.  The  mysterious  law 
against  the  suspected,  which  was  the  crime  of 
Merlin  of  Douai,  held  a  vision  of  the  guillotine 


The  women  said,  "  We  are  pretty  in  red  caps." 
All  Paris  seemed  to  be  removing.  The  curiosity 
shops  were  crowded  with  crowns,  mitres,  sceptres 
of  gilded  wood,  and  fleurs-de-lis — torn  down  from 
royal  dwellings  ;  it  was  the  demolition  of  mon- 
archy that  went  on. 


272    THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


Copes  were  to  be  seen  for  sale  at  the  old  clothes- 
men's,  and  rochets  hung  on  hooks  at  their  doors. 
At  Rarnponneau' sand  the  Porcherons,  men  dressed 
out  in  surplices  and  stoles,  and  mounted  on  don- 
keys, caparisoned  with  chasubles,  drank  wine  at 
the  doors  from  the  cathedral  ciboria.  In  the  Rue 
Saint  Jacques,  barefooted  street-pavers  stopped 
the  wheelbarrow  of  a  peddler  who  had  boots  for 
sale,  and  clubbed  together  to  buy  fifteen  pairs  of 
shoes,  which  they  sent  to  the  Convention  ' '  for 
our  soldiers. ' ' 

Busts  of  Franklin,  Rousseau,  Brutus,  and,  we 
must  add,  of  Marat,  abounded.  Under  a  bust  of 
Marat  in  the  Rue  Cloche-Perce  was  hung  in  a 
black  wooden  frame,  and  under  glass,  an  address 
against  Malouet,  with  testimony  in  support  of  the 
charges,  and  these  marginal  lines  : 

' '  These  details  were  furnished  me  by  the  mis- 
tress of  Silvain  Bailly,  a  good  patriotess,  who  has 
a  liking  for  me.     (Signed)  Marat." 

Very  few  of  the  larger  shops  were  open  ;  peri- 
patetic haberdashery  and  toy  shops  were  dragged 
about  by  women,  lighted  by  candles,  which 
dropped  their  tallow  on  the  merchandise.  Open- 
air  shops  were  kept  by  ex-nuns,  in  blonde  wigs. 
This  mender,  darning  stockings  in  a  stall,  was  a 
countess;  that  dressmaker  a  marchioness.  Madame 
de  Burners  inhabited  a  garret,  from  whence  she 
could  look  out  at  her  own  hotel.  Hawkers  ran 
about  offering  the  ' '  paper  of  news. ' '  Persons 
who  wore  cravats  that  hid  their  chins  were  called 
"  the  scrofulous. "  Street-singers  swarmed.  The 
crowd  hooted  Pitou,  the  royalist  song-writer,  and 
a  valiant  man  into  the  bargain  ;  he  was  twenty- 
two  times  imprisoned  and  taken  before  the  revo- 
lutionary tribunal  for  slapping  his  coat-tails  as  he 
pronounced  the  word  Civism.  Seeing  that  his 
head  was  in  danger,  he  exclaimed  :  '  'But  it  is 
just  the  opposite  of  my  head  that  is  in  fault  !  " — a 
witticism  which  made  the  judges  laugh,  and  saved 
his  life.  This  Pitou  ridiculed  the  rage  for  Greek 
and  Latin  names  ;  his  favorite  song  was  about  a 
cobbler,  whom  he  called  Cujus,  and  to  whom  he 
gave  a  wife  named  Cujusdam.  They  danced  the 
Carmagnole  in  great  circles.  They  no  longer  said 
gentleman  and  lady,   but  citizen   and  citizeness. 

They  danced  in  the  ruined  cloisters  with  the 
church-lamps  lighted  on  the  altars,  with  cross- 
shaped  chandeliers  hanging  from  the  vaulted  roofs 
and  tombs  beneath  their  feet.  Waistcosts  of 
"  tyrant's  blue"  were  worn.   There  were  "  libertv- 


caps"    shirt-pins    made  of  white,   blue,  and  red 
stones.     The    Rue  de   Richelieu  was  called   the 
Street  of  Paw  ;  the  Faubourg  Saint  Antoine  was 
named  the  Faubourg  of  Glory  ;  a  statue  of  Nature 
stood  in  the  Place  de  la  Bastile.     People  pointed 
out  to  one  another  certain  well-known  personages 
— Chatelet,     Didier,     Nicholas    and    Garnier-De- 
launay,  who  stood  guard  at  the  door  of   Duplay 
the  joiner  ;  Voullant,  who  never  missed  a  guillo- 
tine-day, and  followed  the  carts  of  the  condemned 
— he  called  it  going  to  "the  red  mass;"   Mont- 
flabert,   revolutionary  juryman  ;  and    a   marquis, 
who  took  the  name  of  Dix  Aout  (Tenth  of  August ). 
People  watched  the  pupils  of  the  Ecole  Militaire 
file  past,  described  by  the  decrees  of  the  Conven- 
tion as  "  aspirants  in  the  school  of  Mars,"  and  by 
the  crowd  as  "  the  pages  of  Robespierre."     They 
read  the  proclamations  of  Freron  denouncing  those 
suspected  of  the  crime  of  "  negotiantism."     The 
dandies  collected  at  the  doors  of  the  mayoralties 
to  mock  at  the  civil  marriages,   thronging  about 
the  brides  and  grooms  as  they  passed,   and  shout 
"Married    municipaliter.  !  "     At  the    Invalides, 
the  statues  of  the  saints  and  kings  were  crowned 
with  Phrygian  caps.     They  played  cards  on  the 
curb-stones  at  the  crossings.     The  packs  of  cards 
were  also  in  the  full  tide  of  revolution  :  the  kings 
were  replaced  by  genii  ;  the  queens  by  the  goddess 
of  Liberty  ;  the  knaves  by  figures   representing 
Equality,  and  the  aces  by  impersonations  of  Law. 
They  tilled  the  public  gardens  ;  the  plow  worked 
at  the  Tuileries.     With  all  these    excesses  was 
mingled,  especially  among  the  conquered  parties, 
an  indescribable  haughty    weariness  of  life.     A 
man  wrote  to  Fouquier-Tinville,  "  Have  the  good- 
ness to  free  me  from  existence.     This  is  my  address." 
Champeenteux  was  arrested  for  having  cried  in 
the  midst  of  the  Palais  Royal  garden  :    "  When 
are  we  to  have  the  revolution  of  Turkey.    I  want 
to  see  the  republic  a  la  Porte."     Newspapers  ap- 
peared in  legions.     The  hair-dressers'  men  curled 
the  wigs  of  women  in  public,  while  the  masters 
read  the  Moniteur  aloud.     Others,  surrounded  by 
eager  groups,   commented  with   violent  gestures 
upon  the  journal  Listen  to  Us  of  Dubois  Crance, 
or  the  Trumpet  of  Father  Bellerose.     Sometimes 
the  barbers  were  pork -sellers   as  well,    and  hams 
and  chitterlings  might  be   seen   hanging  side  by 
side  with  a  golden-haired  doll.     Dealers  sold  in 
the    open    street   "wines  of  the  refugees:"     one 
merchant    advertised    wines   of    fifty-two   sorts. 


l~  Tf     3   W¥±?"3  f" 


'«■['.}]■ 


(273) 


274 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


Othe'i  displayed  harp-shaped  clocks  and  sofas  "« 
la  o  ichc  ise. ' '  One  hairdresser  had  for  a  sign  :  "I 
si  ave  the  Clergy  ;  I  comb  the  Xobility  ;  I  arrange 
the  Third  Estate." 

People  went  to  have  their  fortunes  told  by  Mar- 
tin, at  No.  173  in  the  Rue  d'Aujou,  formerly  Rue 
Dauphine.  There  was  a  lack  of  bread,  of  coal, 
of  soap.  Herds  of  milch-eows  might  be  seen  com- 
ing in  from  the  country.  At  the  Yallee,  lamb 
sold  for  fifteen  francs  the  pound.  An  order  of 
the  Commune  assigned  a  pound  of  meat  per  head 
even-  ten  days.  People  stood  in  ranks  at  the 
doors  of  the  butchers'  shops.  One  of  these  files 
has  remained  famous  :  it  reached  from  a  grocer's 
shop  in  the  Rue  du  Petit  Carreau  to  the  middle 
of  the  Rue  Montorgueil.  To  form  a  line  was 
called  "holding  the  cord,"  from  a  long  rope 
which  was  held  in  the  hands  of  those  who  were 
standing  in  a  row.  Amid  this  wretchedness,  the 
women  were  brave  and  mild  :  they  passed  entire 
nights  awaiting  their  turn  to  get  into  the  bakers' 
shops.  The  Revolution  resorted  to  expedients 
which  were  successful  :  she  alleviated  this  wide 
distress  by  two  perilous  means — the  assiguat  and 
the  maximum.  The  assiguat  was  the  lever,  the 
maximum  was  the  fulcrum.  This  empiricism 
saved  France.  The  enemy,  whether  of  Coblentz 
or  London,  gambled  iu  assignats.  Girls  came 
and  went,  offering  lavender-water,  garters,  false 
hair,  and  selling  stocks.  There  were  jobbers  on 
the  Perron  of  the  Rue  Vivienne,  with  muddy 
shoes,  greasy  hair,  and  fur  caps  decorated  with 
fox-tails  ;  and  there  were  swells  from  the  Rue  Ya- 
lois,  with  varnished  boots,  toothpicks,  and  long- 
napped  hats  on  their  heads,  to  whom  the  girls 
said  "thee  and  thou."  Later,  the  people  gave 
chase  to  them  as  they  did  the  thieves,  whom  the 
royalists  styled  "  active  citizens."  For  the  time, 
theft  was  rare.  There  reigned  a  terrible  destitu- 
tion and  a  stoical  probity.  The  barefooted  and 
the  starving  passed  with  lowered  eyelids  before 
the  jewellers'  shops  of  the  Palais  Egalite.  Dur- 
ing domiciliary  visit  that  the  Section  Antoine 
made  to  the  house  of  Beaumarchais,  a  women 
picked  a  flower  in  the  garden  ;  the  crowd  boxed 
her  ears.  Wood  cost  four  hundred  francs  iu  coin 
per  cord  ;  people  could  be  seen  in  the  streets  saw- 
ing up  their  bedsteads.  In  the  winter  the  foun- 
tains were  frozen  ;  two  pails  of  water  cost  twenty 
sous  :  every  man  made  himself  a  water-carrier.  A 
sjold  louis  was  worth  three  thousand  nine  hun- 


dred and  fifty  francs.  After  a  day's  use  of  a  car- 
riage, this  sort  of  dialogue  might  be  heard : 
"  Coachman,  how  much  do  I  owe  you?"  "Six 
thousand  francs. ' '  A  green-grocer  woman  sold 
twenty  thousand  francs'  worth  of  vegetables  in 
a  day.  A  beggar  said,  "Help  me,  in  the  name 
of  charity  !  I  lack  two  hundred  and  thirty  francs 
to  finish  paying  for  my  shoes." 

There  was  no  faltering  among  this  people. 
There  was  the  sombre  joy  of  having  made  an  end 
of  thrones.  Volunteers  abounded  ;  each  street 
furnished  a  battalion.  The  flags  of  the  districts 
came  and  went,  every  one  with  its  own  device. 
On  the  banner  of  the  Capuchin  district  could  be 
read,  "  Nobody  can  cut  our  beards."  On  another, 
' '  No  other  nobility  than  that  of  the  heart. ' '  On  all 
the  walls  were  placards,  large  and  small,  white, 
yellow,  green,  red,  printed  and  written,  on  which 
might  be  read  this  motto:  "Long  live  the  Re- 
public! "  The  children  lisped  "  Ca  ira." 

These  children  were  in  themselves  the  great 
future. 

Later,  to  the  tragical  city  succeeded  the  cynical 
city.  The  streets  of  Paris  have  offered  two  revo- 
lutionary aspects  entirely  distinct — that  before 
and  that  after  the  9th  Thermidor.  The  Paris  of 
Saint  Just  gave  place  to  the  Paris  of  Tallien. 
Such  anthiseses  are  perpetual  ;  after  Sinai,  the 
Courtille  appeared. 

An  attack  of  public  madness  made  its  appear- 
ance. It  had  already  been  seen  eighty  years  be- 
fore. The  people  came  out  from  under  Louis 
XIV.  as  the>-  did  from  under  Robespierre,  with  a 
great  need  to  breathe  ;  hence  the  regency  which 
opened  that  century  and  the  director}-  which 
closed  it.  Two  Saturnalia  after  two  terrorisms. 
France  snatched  the  wicket-key  and  got  beyond 
the  Puritan  cloister  just  as  it  did  beyond  that  of 
monarchy,  with  the  joy  of  a  nation  that  escapes. 

After  the  9th  Thermidor  Paris  was  gay  ;  but 
with  ni  insane  gayety.  An  unhealthy  joy  over- 
flowed all  bonis.  To  the  frenzy  for  dying  suc- 
ceeded the  frenzy  for  living,  and  grandeur  eclipsed 
•tself.  They  had  a  Trimalcion,  calling  himself 
Grimod  de  la  Reyniere  :  there  was  the  "  Almanac 
of  the  Gourmands."  People  dined  in  the  entre- 
sols of  the  Palais  Royal  to  the  din  of  orchestras 
of  women  beating  drums'  and  blowing  trumpets  ; 
the  "  rigadooner  "  reigned,  bow  in  hand.  People 
supped  oriental  fashion  at  Meot's,  surrounded  by 
perfumes.  The  artist  Boze  painted  his  daughters, 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


27c 


innocent  and  charming  heads  of  sixteen,  en  guil- 
lotinccs  ;  that  is  to  say,  with  bare  necks  and  red 
shifts.  To  the  wild  dances  in  the  ruined  churches 
succeeded  the  balls  of  Ruggieri,  of  Luquet-Wen- 
zel,  Mauduit,  and  the  Montansier  ;  to  grave  citi- 
zenesses  making  lint  succeeded  sultanas,  savages, 
nymphs  ;  to  the  naked  feet  of  the  soldiers  covered 
with  blood,  dust,  and  mud,  succeeded  the  naked 
feet  of  women  decorated  with  diamonds  ;  at  the 
same  time,  with  shamelessness,  improbity  reap- 
peared ;  and  it  had  its  purveyors  in  high  ranks, 
and  their  imitators  among  the  class  below.  A 
swarm  of  sharpers  filled  Paris,  and  every  man 
was  forced  to  guard  well  his  "  luc" — that  is,  his 
pocket-book.  One  of  the  amusements  of  the  day 
was  to  go  to  the  Palace  of  Justice  to  see  the  fe- 
male thieves  ;  it  was  necessary  to  tie  fast  their 
petticoats.  At  the  doors  of  the  theatres  the  street 
boys  opened  cab  doors,  saying,  ' '  Citizen  and  citi- 
zeness,  there  is  room  for  two."  The  Old  Cordelier 
and  the  Friend  of  the  People  were  no  longer  sold. 
In  their  place  were  cried  Punch' s  Letter  and  the 
Rogues'  Petition.  The  Marquis  de  Sade  presided 
at  the  Section  of  the  Pikes,  Place  Vendome.  The 
reaction  was  jovial  and  ferocious.  The  Dragons 
of  Liberty  of  '92  were  reborn  under  the  name  of 
the  Chevaliers  of  the  Dagger.  At  the  same  time 
there  appeared  in  the  booths  that  type,  Jocrisse. 
There  were  ' '  the  Merveillcuses, ' '  and  in  advance 
of  these  feminine  marvels  came  "the  Incroyables. " 
People  swore  by  strange  and  affected  oaths ;  they 
j umped  back  from  Mirabeau  to  Bobeche.  Thus 
it  is  that  Paris  sways  back  and  forth  ;  it  is  the 
enormous  pendulum  of  civilization  ;  it  touches 
either  pole  in  turn,  Thermopylae  and  Gomorrah. 
After  '93  the  Revolution  traversed  a  singular  os- 
cillation ;  the  century  seemed  to  forget  to  finish 
that  which  it  had  commenced  ;  a  strange  orgy  in- 
terposed itself,  took  the  foreground,  swept  back 
to  the  second  place  the  awful  Apocalypse  ;  veiled 
the  immeasurable  vision,  and  laughed  aloud  after 
its  fright.  Tragedy  disappeared  in  parody,  and, 
rising  darkly  from  the  bottom  of  the  horizon,  a 
smoke  of  carnival  effaced  Medusa. 


DR.     SAMUEL     PETERS     THE     CONNECTICUT 
MUNCHAUSEN. 

ONE  of  the  rarest  historical  characters  that  this 
country  has  ever  produced  was  the  Rev.  Sam- 
uel Andrew  Peters,  who  was  born  in  Hebron,  Ct., 
December  12,  1735,  and  died  in  New  York,  April 


19,  1826.  He  graduated  at  Yale  College  in  1757, 
was  ordained  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land in  1760,  and  two  years  later  took  charge  of 
the  churches  of  Hartford  and  Hebron.  In  1774 
he  was  compelled  to  leave  the  country  on  account  of 
his  Torj*  principles.  The  circumstances  of  his 
exit  were  characteristic  of  the  times.  He  was  re- 
garded with  distrust  by  his  Whig  neighbors  for 
meddling  with  and  marring  the  work  of  Independ- 
ence by  his  communications  to  persons  in  Eng- 
land. If  his  humorous,  voluble  style  of  composi- 
tion is  to  be  taken  as  evidence  of  his  conversa- 
tional powers,  his  tongue  would  also  have  been  an 
unwelcome  scourge  of  his  townspeople.  Three 
hundred  of  the  latter  accordingly  gathered  at  his 
house  one  evening,  and  demanded  a  declaration  of 
his  principles,  hinting  at  a  coat  of  tar  and  feathers 
if  their  demand  were  not  immediately  complied 
with.  They  also  demanded  copies  of  letters  which 
he  had  sent  to  England,  and  o*"  the  malignant 
articles  which  he  had  written  for  the  newspapers. 

His  visitors  were  so  numerous  and  vehement  in 
their  requests  that  he  hastened  to  comply  with 
their  wishes,  and  signed  a  paper  agreeing  to 
curb  his  royal  inclinations  and  behave  himself  in 
the  future.      This  occurred  in  August. 

When  the  storm  had  blown  over  the  good  Doc- 
tor recovered  his  equanimity,  and  soon  began 
again  to  make  himself  fully  as  objectionable  as  he 
had  ever  been  in  the  past.  A  month  later 
another  committee  called  on  him,  and  made 
him  understand  that  they  "meant  business." 
He  offered  to  argue  the  question  with  them,  but 
they  informed  him  that  they  had  come  to  act 
and  not  to  talk.  He  persisted,  however,  and  com- 
menced a  lengthly  harangue ;  in  the  midst  of 
which  a  gun  was  heard  to  go  off  in  his  house, 
notwithstanding  his  solemn  declarations  that  he 
had  no  firearms.  The  whole  body  thereupon 
broke  into  the  house  by  door  and  windows,  seized 
the  doctor  and  carried  him  off  to  the  meeting- 
house green,  three-quarters  of  a  mile  away. 
"During  the  affair,"  we  are  told,  "his  gown  and 
shirt  were  torn,  one  sock  of  his  hose  was  some- 
what shattered,  a  table  was  turned  over,  and  a 
punch-bowl  and  glass  were  broken." 

These  energetic  measures  convinced  Dr.  Peters 
that  a  sojourn  in  more  loyal  regions  would  be 
conducive  to  his  health,  and  he  accordingly  fled  to 
Boston  and  sailed  from  thence  to  England.  Here, 
smarting  under  a  sense  of  his  wrongs,  and  desir- 


276 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


ing  to  be  avenged  against  the  whole  Yankee  na- 
tion, he  wrote  his  ' '  General  History  of  Connecti- 
cut," which  is  the  most  perfect  and  enduring 
specimen  of  pure  Munehausenism  that  ever  came 
from  the  press.  The  humorous  gravity  of  the 
style  is  irresistible  ;  while  its  feigned  earnestness 
has  led  man}-  learned  men  to  suppose  that  its  ex- 
travagant statements  were  intended  for  facts, 
and  they  have  accordingly  composed  excuses 
and  apologies  for  the  author  on  the  ground  of  his 
excited  condition  during  the  preparation  of  his 
book  !  This,  of  course,  adds  to  the  humor  of  the 
productions. 

When  the  war  was  ended,  Peters  was  chosen,  in 
1794,  bishop  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  in 
Vermont,  and  he  accepted  the  office  with  enthusi- 
asm ;  but  the  Archbishop  declined  to  consecrate 
him.  The  good  doctor  had  not  only  gone  so  far 
as  to  accept  the  proffered  call,  but  had  also  writ- 
ten and  caused  to  be  extensively  circulated  an 
"Episcopal  Letter,"  somewhat  after  the  style  of 
St.  Paul.  He  addressed  his  epistle  "to  the 
churches  of  Christ  spread  abroad  in  the  State  of 
Vermont,  niercy,  peace,  and  love  be  multiplied," 
and  proceeded  with  an  apostolic  injunction,  the  hu- 
mor of  which  is  irresistible,  when  we  consider  St. 
Paul,  Dr.  Peters,  and  the  fact  that  he  was  no 
bishop  after  all. 

' '  Until  I  come, ' '  he  writes,  parodying  the  Apos- 
tle, "  give  attendance  to  reading,  prayer  and  faith. 
When  present  with  you,  by  the  grace  of  God,  I 
will  lead  you  through  the  wilderness  of  life,  up  to 
a  world  that  knows  no  sorrow.  I  will  guide  you 
with  mine  eye,  and  feed  your  lambs  and  sheep 
with  bread  more  durable  than  the  everlasting  hills. 
While  absent  from  you  in  body  I  am  present  with 
you  in  mind,  thanking  God  always  in  ever}' 
pra}'er  of  mine,  and  making  request  with  joy  for 
your  fellowship  in  the  gospel  of  His  Son  ;  that  you 
majr  be  of  good  cheer,  and  overcome  a  world 
yielding  no  content,  the  only  wealth  of  man  ;  and 
that  you  ma}'  know  how  to  be  abased,  and  how 
to  abound  ;  even-where  and  in  all  things  to  be  in- 
structed to  obey  the  laws  of  Christ.  The  spirit 
which  heals  all  our  infirmities,  no  doubt  led  you  to 
glorify  God  in  me,  when  you  appointed  the  least  of 
all  saints  to  fill  the  highest  station  in  the  Church 
of  Jesus  Christ ;  duty  and  inclination  (with  feeble 
blood  flowing  in  my  veins )  inspire  my  soul  to  seek 
and  do  you  good  in  that  sacred  office  to  which  you 
have   invited  me  ;  being  confident  that  you  will 


receive  me  with  all  gladness,  and  hold  me  in  repu- 
tation for  the  work  of  Christ ;  which  brought  me 
near  to  death,  and  shall  finally  make  you  my 
glory  andmy  joy.  Should  my  insufficiency  in  spir- 
itual and  scientific  knowledge  appear  too  manifest 
among  you,  my  zeal  and  labors  in  the  vineyard  of 
the  Lord  shall,  I  trust,  be  your  pride  and  boast;  in 
this  hope,  and  resting  on  the  candor,  order,  mo- 
rality, learning,  piety,  and  religion  of  those  over 
whom  I  am  well  chosen  to  preside,  I  shall  with 
some  degree  of  confidence  undertake  the  charge, 
and  claim  the  wisdom  of  the  wise  to  enlighten  my 
understanding,  and  the  charity  and  prayers  of  all 
to  remove  any  wants,  and  to  lessen  my  manifold 
imperfections.  Salute  one  another  with  faith  and 
love." 

History  is  silent  with  reference  to  Dr.  Peters' 
feelings  on  learning  that  the  Archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury had  refused  to  consecrate  him.  But  his 
"episcopal  address"  had  gone  forth,  and  it  was 
too  late  to  recall  it.  His  opinion  of  himself,  how- 
ever, was  not  lessened,  for  he  subsequently  wrote 
and  published  a  work  in  which  he  mentions  his 
good  qualities  in  the  following  terms  :  ' '  He  is  re- 
puted," says  he  of  himself,  "to  have  the  facul- 
ties of  his  uncle  Hugh,  the  zeal  and  courage  of 
his  grand-parent,  General  Thomas  Harrison, 
mixed  with  the  benevolence  that  characterized 
his  great-grand-pareut,   William  Peters,  Esq.,   of 

jfis-i-" 

We  now  proceed  to  copy  some  extracts  from 
the  Doctor's  "  History,"  which,  if  not  reliable  as 
history,  are  at  least  entertaining  as  specimens  of 
magnificent  and  boundless  imagination  : 
Interview  Between  Rev.  Mr.  Ward  and  Cotton  Mather. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Ward,  being  an  eminent  Puritan 
in  England,  disliked  the  spiritual  and  star-chamber 
courts  under  the  control  of  the  hierarchy  of  Eng- 
land ;  he  fled  to  New  England,  and  became  min- 
ister of  Agawam,  an  Indian  village,  making  the 
west  part  of  Springfield  in  the  State  of  Massachu- 
setts. He  was  an  exact  scholar,  a  meek,  benevo- 
lent, and  charitable  Christian.  He  used  the  In- 
dians with  justice  and  tenderness,  and  established 
one  of  the  best  towns  on  the  Connecticut  river. 
He  was  free  from  hypocrisy  and  stiff  bigotry, 
which  then  domineered  in  New  England,  and 
which  yet  remain  at  Hadley  and  Northampton, 
not  much  to  the  credit  of  morality  and  piety.  Mr. 
Ward  had  a  large  share  of  Hudibrastic  wit,  and 
much  pleasantry  with  his  gravity.     This  appears 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


277 


in  his  history  of  of  Agawam,  wherein  he  satirized 
the  prevailing  superstition  of  the  times ;  which 
did  more  good  than  Dr.  Mather's  book,  entitled, 
"  Stilts  for  Dwarfs  in  Christ  to  Wade  through  the 
Mud, ' '  or  his  ' '  Magnalia, ' '  with  his  other  twenty- 
four  books.  His  posterity  are  man)',  and  have 
done  their  part  in  the  pulpit,  in  the  field,  and  at 
the  bar,  in  the  six  States  of  New  England,  and 
generally  have  followed  the  charitable  temper  of 
their  venerable  ancestor,  and  seldom  fail  to  lash 
the  avarice  of  the  clergy,  who  are  often  recom- 
mending charity  and  hospitality  to  the  needy 
stranger,  and  at  the  same  time  never  follow  their 
own  advice  to  others.  Mr.  Ward,  of  Agawam, 
has  left  his  children  an  example  worth)-  of  imita- 
tion.    The  story  is  thus  related  : 

Dr.  Mather,  of  Boston,  was  constantly  exhort- 
ing his  hearers  to  entertain  strangers,  for  by  doing 
so  they  might  entertain  angels.  But  it  was  re- 
marked, that  Dr.  Mather  never  entertained 
strangers,  nor  gave  any  relief  to  beggars.  This 
report  reached  Mr.  Ward,  of  Agawam,  an  inti- 
mate chum  of  the  Doctor  while  at  the  university. 
Ward  said  he  hoped  it  was  not  true  ;  but  resolved 
to  discover  the  truth  ;  therefore  he  set  off  for 
Boston  on  foot,  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles, 
and  arriving  at  the  door  of  Dr.  Mather  on  Satur- 
day evening,  when  most  people  were  in  bed,  and 
knocked  at  the  door,  which  the  maid  opened. 
Ward  said,  "I  come  from  the  country,  to  hear 
good  Dr.  Mather  preach  to-morrow.  I  am 
hungry,  and  thirsty,  without  money,  and  I  beg 
the  good  Doctor  will  give  me  relief  and  a  bed  in 
his  house  until  the  Sabbath  is  over. ' '  The  maid 
replied,  "The  Doctor  is  in  his  study,  it  is'  Satur- 
day night,  the  Sabbath  is  begun,  we  have  no  bed, 
or  victuals,  for  ragged  beggars,"  and  shut  the 
door  upon  him.  Mr.  Ward  again  made  use  of 
the  knocker :  the  maid  went  to  the  Doctor,  and 
told  him  there  was  a  sturdy  beggar  beating  the 
door,  who  insisted  on  coming  in  and  staying  there 
over  the  Sabbath.  The  Doctor  said,  "Tell  him 
to  depart,  or  a  constable  shall  conduct  him  to  a 
prison."  The  maid  obeyed  the  Doctor's  order  ; 
and  Mr.  Ward  said,  "  I  will  not  leave  the  door 
until  I  have  seen  the  Doctor."  This  tumult 
roused  the  Doctor,  with  his  black  velvet  cap  on 
his  head,  and  he  came  to  the  door  and  opened  it, 
and  said,  "Thou  country  villain,  how  dare  you 
knock  thus  at  my   door  after  the    Sabbath  has 


begun  ? ' '  Mr.  Ward  replied,  ' '  Sir,  I  am  a 
stranger,  hungry  and  moneyless  ;  pray  take  me 
in,  until  the  holy  Sabbath  is  past,  so  that  I  may 
hear  one  of  your  godly  sermons."  The  Doctor 
said,  "Vagrant,  go  thy  way,  and  trouble  me  no 
more  ;  I  will  not  break  the  Sabbath  by  giving 
thee  food  and  lodging,"  and  then  shut  the  door. 
The  Doctor  had  scarcely  reached  his  study,  when 
Ward  began  to  exercise  the  knocker  with  con- 
tinued violence.  The  Doctor,  not  highly  pleased, 
returned  to  the  door  and  said,  "Wretched  being, 
why  dost  thou  trouble  me  thus  ?  what  wilt  thou 
have?"  Ward  replied,  "  Entertainment  in  your 
house  until  Monday  morning."  The  Doctor 
said,  "You  shall  not,  therefore  go  thy  way." 
Mr.  Ward  replied,  "Sir,  as  that  point  is  settled, 
pray  give  me  a  sixpence  or  a  shilling,  and  a 
piece  of  bread  and  meat."  The  Doctor 
said,  "I  will  give  thee  neither,"  and  again  shut 
the  door.  And  then  Mr.  Ward  thundered  with 
the  knocker  of  the  door,  and  the  Doctor  returned 
in  great  wrath  and  said,  "Thou  art  mad,  or  pos- 
sessed wTith  an  evil  spirit :  what  wilt  thou  have 
now?"  Mr.  Ward  replied,  "  Since  you,  sir,  will  not 
give  lodgings,  nor  money,  nor  food,  nor  drink  to 
me,  I  pray  for  your  advice ;  will  you  direct  me  to  a 
stew?"  The  Doctor  cried  out,  "  Vagrant  of  all 
vagrants  !  the  curse  of  God  will  fall  on  thee  ;  thou 
art  one  of  the  non-elects.  Dost  thou,  villain,  sup- 
pose that  I  am  acquainted  with  bad  houses  ? 
What  dost  thou  want  at  a  stew?"  Mr.  Ward  re- 
plied, "  I  am  hungry,  weary,  thirsty,  moneyless, 
and  almost  naked  ;  and  Solomon,  the  wisest  king 
the  Jews  ever  had,  tells  me  and  you,  that  a 
whore  will  bring  a  man  to  a  morsel  of  bread  at 
the  last."  Now  Dr.  Mather  awoke  from  his 
reverend  dream,  and  cried,  "  Tu  es  Wardonus 
vel  Diabolus. ' '  Mr.  Ward  laughed,  and  the  Doc- 
tor took  him  in  and  gave  him  all  he  wanted ; 
and  Mr.  Ward  preached  for  the  Doctor  next  day, 
both  morning  and  evening.  This  event  had  its 
due  effect  on  the  Doctor  ever  after,  and  he  kept 
the  Shunamite's  chamber,  and  became  hospita- 
ble and  charitable  to  all  in  want. 

It  corrected  the  Doctor's  temper  to  such  a  de- 
gree, that  six  months  after,  he  ceased  to  pray 
more  against  the  pope  and  conclave  of  Rome, 
and  supplied  the  vacuum,  by  praying  for  the 
downfall  of  the  red  dragon  at  Morocco,  Egypt, 
and    Arabia,    on  the    east    side  of  the  Red  Sea, 


278 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


even  at  Mecca  and  Medina  ;  words  which  helped 
the  sand  to  pass  through  the  hour-glass,  the  or- 
thodox length  of  a  prayer. 

A  History  of  the  Connecticut   River. 

The  middle  river  is  named  Connecticut,  after 
the  great  Sachem  to  whom  that  part  of  the  pro- 
vince through  which  it  runs  belonged.  This 
vast  river  is  500  miles  long,  and  four  miles  wide 
at  its  mouth  :  its  channel,  or  inner  banks,  in 
general,  half  a  mile  wide.  It  takes  its  rise  from 
the  White  Hills,  in  the  north  of  Xew  England, 
where  also  springs  the  river  Kennebec.  Above 
500  rivulets,  which  issue  from  lakes,  ponds,  and 
drowned  lands,  fall  into  it  ;  main-  of  them  are 
larger  than  the  Thames  at  London.  In  March, 
when  the  rain  and  sun  melt  the  snow  and  ice,  each 
stream  is  overcharged,  and  kindly  hastens  to  this 
great  river,  to  overflow,  fertilize,  and  preserve  its 
trembling  meadows.  They  lift  up  enormous 
cakes  of  ice,  bursting  from  their  frozen  beds  with 
threatening  intentions  of  ploughing  up  the 
frighted  earth,  and  carry  them  rapidly  down  the 
falls,  where  they  are  dashed  in  pieces  and  rise  in 
mist.  Except  at  these  falls,  of  which  there  are 
five,  the  first  sixty  miles  from  its  mouth,  the  river 
is  navigable  throughout.  In  its  northern  parts 
are  three  great  bendings,  called  cohosses,  about 
100  miles  asunder.  Two  hundred  miles  from  the 
Sound  is  a  narrow  of  five  yards  only,  formed  by 
two  shelving  mountains  of  solid  rock,  whose  tops 
intercept  the  clouds.  Through  this  chasm  are 
compelled  to  pass  all  the  waters  which  in  the  time 
of  the  floods  bun-  the  northern  country.  At  the 
upper  cohos  the  river  then  spreads  several  miles 
wide,  and  for  five  or  six  weeks  ships  of  war  might 
sail  over  lands,  that  afterwards  produce  the  greatest 
crops  of  hay  and  grain  in  all  America.  People 
who  can  bear  the  sight,  the  groans,  the  tremblings 
and  surly  motion  of  water,  trees,  and  ice,  through 
this  awful  passage,  view  with  astonishment  one  of 
the  greatest  phenomenons  in  nature.  Here  water 
is  consolidated,  without  frost,  by  pressure,  by  swift- 
ness, between  the  pinching,  sturdy  rocks,  to  such 
a  degree  of  induration,  that  an  iron  crow  floats 
smoothly  clown  its  current  : — here  iron,  lead,  and 
cork,  have  one  common  weight  : — here,  steady  as 
time,  and  harder  than  marble,  the  stream  passes 
irresistible,  if  not  swift,  as  lightning  : — the  electric 
fire  rends  trees  in  pieces  with  no  greater  ease,  than 
does  this  mighty  water.     The  passage  is  about 


400  yards  in  length,  and  of  a  zigzag  form,  with 
obtuse  corners. 

Remarkable  Achievement  of  the   Frogs  at  Windham. 

Windham  resembles  Rumford,  and  stands  on 
Winuomantic  river.  Its  meeting-house  is  ele- 
gant, and  has  a  steeple,  bell,  and  clock.  Its 
court-house  is  scarcely  to  be  looked  upon  as  an 
ornament.  The  township  forms  four  parishes, 
and  is  ten  miles  square. 

Strangers  are  very  much  terrified  at  the  hideous 
noise  made  011  summer  evenings  by  the  vast  num- 
ber of  frogs  in  the  brooks  and  ponds.  There  are 
about  thirty  different  voices  among  them  ;  some 
of  which  resemble  the  bellowing  of  a  bull.  The 
owls  and  whippoorwills  complete  the  rough  con- 
cert, which  may  be  heard  several  miles.  Persons 
accustomed  to  such  serenades  are  not  disturbed  by 
them  at  their  proper  stations  ;  but  one  night,  in 
July,  1758,  the  frogs  of  an  artificial  pond,  three 
miles  square,  and  about  five  from  Windham,  find- 
ing the  water  dried  up,  left  the  place  in  a  bod}-, 
and  marched,  or  rather  hopped  towards  Winuo- 
mantic river.  They  were  under  the  necessity  of 
taking  the  road  and  going  through  the  town, 
which  the}-  entered  about  midnight.  The  bull 
frogs  were  the  leaders,  and  the  pipers  followed 
without  number.  They  filled  a  road  40  yards 
wide  for  four  miles  in  length,  and  were  for  several 
hours  in  passing  through  the  town,  unusually 
clamorous.  The  inhabitants  were  equally  per- 
plexed and  frightened  ;  some  expected  to  find  an 
army  of  French  and  Indians  ;  others  feared  an 
earthquake,  and  dissolution  of  nature.  The  con- 
sternation was  universal.  Old  and  young,  male 
and  female,  fled  naked  from  their  beds  with  worse 
shriekings  than  those  of  the  frogs.  The  event 
was  fatal  to  several  women.  The  men,  after  a 
flight  of  half  a  mile,  in  which  they  met  with 
many  broken  shins,  finding  no  enemies  in  pursuit 
of  them  made  a  halt,  and  summoned  resolution 
enough  to  venture  back  to  their  wives  and  chil- 
dren ;  when  they  distinctly  heard  from  the  enemy's 
camp  these  words,  Wight,  Hilda-ken,  Dier,  Tcte. 
This  last  they  thought  meant  treaty  ;  and  pluck- 
ing up  courage,  the}-  sent  a  triumvirate  to  capitu- 
late with  the  supposed  French  and  Indians.  These 
three  men  approached  in  their  shirts,  and  begged 
to  speak  with  the  general  ;  but  it  being  dark,  and 
no  answer  given,  the}-  were  sorely  agitated  for 
some    time    betwixt    hope    and  fear ;    at  length. 


BEAUTIFUL  IN    THE  WORLD'S  HISTORY 


270 


however,  the}"  discovered  that  the  dreaded  inimical 
arm}-  was  an  arm}-  of  thirsty  frogs,  going  to  the 
river  for  a  little  water. 

Such  an  incursion  was  never  known  before  nor 
since  ;  and  yet  the  people  of  Windham  have  been 
ridiculed  for  their  timidity  on  this  occasion.  I 
verily  believe  an  army  under  the  Duke  of  Marl- 
borough, would,  under  like  circumstances,  have 
acted  no  better  than  they  did. 

The  Story  of  Gen.  Putnam  and  the  Wolf. 
Dr.    Peters'    account    of    Gen.     Putnam's    en- 
counter with  the  wolf  differs  materially  from  the 
accepted  version  : 

We  read  that  David  slew  a  lion  and  a  bear,  and 
afterwards  that  Saul  trusted  him  to  fight  Goliath. 
In  Pomfret  lives  Col.  Israel  Putnam,  who  slew  a 
she-bear  and  her  two  cubs  with  a  billet  of  wood. 
The  bravery  of  this  action  brought  him  into  pub- 
lic notice  ;  and,  it  seems,  he  is  one  of  fortune's 
favorites.  The  story  is  as  follows: — In  1754,  a 
large  she-bear  came  in  the  night  from  her  den, 
which  was  three  miles  from  Mr.  Putnam's  house, 
and  took  a  sow  out  of  a  pen  of  his.  The  sow,  by 
her  squeaking,  awoke  Mr.  Putnam,  who  hastily 
ran  to  the  poor  creature's  relief;  but  before  he 
could  reach  the  pen,  the  bear  had  left  it,  and  was 
trotting  away  with  the  sow  in  her  mouth.  Mr. 
Putnam  took  up  a  billet  of  wood,  and  followed  the 
screamings  of  the  sow,  till  he  came  to  the  foot  of 
the  mountain,  where  the  den  was.  Dauntless  he 
entered  the  horrid  cavern  ;  and,  after  walking  and 
crawling  upon  his  hands  and  knees  for  fifty  yards, 
came  to  a  roomy  cell,  where  the  bear  met  him 
•  with  great  fur}-.  He  saw  nothing  but  the  fire  of 
her  eyes  ;  but  that  was  sufficient  for  our  hero  ;  he 
accordingly  directed  his  blow,  which  at  once  proved 
fatal  to  the  bear  and  saved  his  own  life  at  a  most 
critical  moment.  Putnam  then  discovered  and 
killed  two  cubs  ;  and  having,  though  in  Egyptian 
darkness,  dragged  them  and  the  dead  sow,  one  by 
one,  out  of  the  cave,  he  went  home,  and  calmly 
reported  to  his  family  what  had  happened.  The 
neighbors  declared,  on  viewing  the  place  by  torch- 
light, that  his  exploit  exceeded  those  of  Samson 
or  David.  Soon  afterwards  the  General  Assembly 
appoiuted  Mr.  Putnam  a  Lieutenant  in  the  Army 
marching  against  Canada.  His  courage  and  good 
conduct  raised  him  to  the  rank  of  Captain  the 
next  year.  The  third  year  he  was  made  a  Major  ; 
and  the  fourth  a  Colonel.  Putnam  and  Rogers 
were  the  heroes  through  the  last  war.     Putnam 


was  so  hard}-,  at  a  time  when  the  Indians  had 
killed  all  his  men,  and  completely  hemmed  him 
in  upon  a  river,  as  to  leap  into  a  stream,  which  in 
a  minute  carried  him  down  a  stupendous  fall, 
where  no  tree  could  pass  without  being  torn  in 
pieces.  The  Indians  reasonably  concluded  that 
Putnam,  their  terrible  enemy,  was  dead,  and  made 
their  report  accordingly  at  Ticonderoga  ;  but  soon 
after,  a  scouting  party  found  their  sad  mistake  in 
a  bloody  rencontre.  Some  few  that  got  off  de- 
clared that  Putnam  was  yet  living,  and  that  he 
was  the  first  sou  of  Hobbamockow,  and  therefore 
immortal.  However,  at  length  the  Indians  took 
this  terrible  warrior  prisoner,  and  tied  him  to  a 
tree  ;  where  he  hung  three  days  without  food  or 
drink.  They  did  not  attempt  to  kill  him  for  fear 
of  offending  Hobbamockow  ;  but  they  sold  him  to 
the  French  at  a  great  price.  The  name  of  Putnam 
was  more  alarming  to  the  Indians  than  cannon, 
and  they  never  would  fight  him  after  his  escape 
from  the  falls.  He  was  afterwards  redeemed  by 
the  English. 

But  we  must  take  leave  of  good  Dr.  Peters,  al- 
though we  do  so  with  regret.  We  have  quoted 
enough  from  his  writings  to  prove  that  his  faculty 
of  entertaining  was  more  rarely  developed  than 
that  of  almost  any  other  American  writer,  and  if 
his  reputation  for  veracity  had  been  equal  to  his 
humor  and  his  imagination,  what  a  splendid  char- 
acter he  would  have  been  ! 


ETHAN  ALLEN,  THE  HERO  OF  VERMONT. 

GTHAX  ALLEX,  the  son  of  a  farmer  in  Con- 
necticut, was  born  at  Coventry  in  that  State, 
January  10,  1737.  He  removed  to  Vermont  about 
the  year  1772,  and  became  the  stalwart  leader  of 
the  Green  Mountain  Boys  in  their  resistance  to 
the  territorial  claims  of  New  York.  His  brilliant 
surprisal  of  Ticonderoga,  in  1775,  "in  the  name 
of  the  great  Jehovah  and  the  Continental  Con- 
gress," need  hardly  be  mentioned  here.  It  was 
probably  the  success  of  that  adventure  which  led 
to  the  rash  attempt  upon  Montreal,  where  he  was 
taken  prisoner  ;  a  captivity  which  gave  rise  to  his 
authorship  of  a  volume  which  contains  as  much  of 
the  essence  of  military  revolutionary  whigism  and 
anti-toryism,  as  it  is  possible  to  convey  in  the  same 
space.  This  work  tells  a  sad  story  of  the  lack  of 
gallantry  and  of  the  oppression  of  the  British 
service  at  that  time.  A  prisoner  taken  in  war  by 
the  English    seems    to  have    been    regarded    as 


280 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


something  between  an  enemy  and  a  convict,  not 
entitled  to  the  honorable  courtesy  due  to  the 
one,  and  not  exactly  responsible  to  the  gallows 
assigned  for  the  other.  The  interminable  term 
was  a  rebel,  and  the  respect  for  consanguinity 
which  England  should  have  shown  in  the  strug- 
gle, was  lost  in  the  contempt  of  familiarity — as 
an  old-fashioned  father  would  whip  his  own 
children  and  reverence  those  of  other  persons. 
In  this  humor  of  his  conquerors,  Allen  was 
taken  from  Montreal,  confined  hand  and  feet  in 
irons,  carried  on  board  the  Gaspee  schooner-of- 
war,  taken  from  Quebec  to  Liverpool  in  a  gov- 
ernment vessel,  suffering  die  accommodations  of 
a  slave  ship,  landed  with  indignity  at  Falmouth  ; 
was  kept  a  prisoner  and  a  show  at  Pendennis 
castle  ;  removed  to  the  Solebay  frigate,  which, 
putting  into  Cork,  the  stores  which  tender- 
hearted Irish  friends  sent  him  were  confiscated 
for  the  use  of  the  vessel  ;  was  brought 
to  the  coast  of  America,  and  kept  in  various 
degrees  of  restraint,  latterly  under  freedom  of 
parole  at  Xew  York,  till  the  victory  of  Sara- 
toga brought  about  his  release  in  177S.  He 
published  the  narrative  of  his  captivity  in  the 
following  year.  He  wrote  as  he  acted,  a  word 
and  a  blow.  For  a  certain  quick  intense  con- 
ception of  things,  the  uninstructed  physique  of 
the  mind,  his  narrative  of  his  captivity  is  a 
model  like  his  own  figure,  of  rude,  burly 
strength. 

When  confined  on  board  the  schooner  Gaspee, 
in  irons,  he  asserts  that  he  was  obliged  to  throw 
out  plenty  of  "extravagant  language,"  which 
answered  his  purpose  at  that  time  better  than 
softer  words  would  have  done.  "The  cause  I 
was  engaged  in, "  he  adds,  ' '  I  ever  viewed  worthy 
hazarding  my  life  for,  nor  was  I,  in  the  most  criti- 
cal moments  of  trouble,  sorry  that  I  engaged 
in  it." 

His  remarks  on  the  character  of  those  about 
him  show  a  subtle  knowledge  of  human  nature, 
as  this  hint  at  a  fool  in  authority  :  "I  now  found 
myself  under  a  worse  captain  than  Symonds,  for 
Montague  was  loaded  with  prejudices  against 
even-body  and  everything  that  was  not  stamped 
with  royalty  ;  and  being  by  nature  underwitted, 
his  wrath  was  heavier  than  the  others  ;  or  at  least 
his  mind  was  in  no  instance  liable  to  be  directed 
by  good  sense,  humor,  or  bravery,  of  which 
Symonds  was  by  turns  susceptible. "     His  account 


of  Toring,  the  British  commissary  of  prisoners  in 
the  days  of  prison-ships  at  Xew  York,  is  in  his 
strongest  manner : 

' '  This  Loring  is  a  monster  !  There  is  not  his 
like  in  human  shape.  He  exhibits  a  smiling 
countenance,  seems  to  wear  a  phiz  of  humanity, 
but  has  been  instrumentally  capable  of  the  most 
consummate  acts  of  wickedness,  which  were  first 
projected  by  an  abandoned  British  council  clothed 
with  the  authority  of  a  Howe,  murdering  preme- 
ditatedly,  in  cold  blood,  near  or  quite  two  thousand 
helpless  prisoners,  and  that  in  the  most  clandes- 
tine, mean,  and  shameful  manner.  He  is  the 
most  mean  spirited,  cowardly,  deceitful,  and  de- 
structive animal  in  God's  creation  below,  and 
regions  of  infernal  devils,  with  all  their  tremen- 
dous horrors,  are  impatiently  read}-  to  receive  Howe 
and  him,  with  all  their  detestable  accomplices, 
into  the  most  exquisite  agonies  of  the  hottest 
region  of  hell  fire." 

This  extract  is  pretty  good  evidence  that  he 
could  use  his  tongue  as  well  as  his  sword,  and  the 
British  were  no  doubt  glad  to  see  him  depart  when 
an  opportunity  came  for  his  exchange.  An  anec- 
dote is  related  of  one  of  his  word  encounters  with 
a  British  officer,  that  the  latter  on  being  chal- 
lenged by  Allen  to  produce  another  such  woman 
as  his  (Allen's)  mother,  the  officer  replied  by  say- 
ing that  Mary  Magdalene  was  a  case  in  point,  as 
she  was  also  delivered  of  seven  devils  ! 

Allen's  Encounter  with  a  Savage. 

AT  the  time  of  Allen's  capture,  his  life  was 
threatened  by  an  Indian  warrior,  but  he 
escaped  by  superior  strength  and  adroitness,  as  he 
relates  in  the  following  language  : 

The  officer  I  capitulated  with  then  directed  me 
and  my  part)-  to  advance  towards  him,  which  was 
done  ;  I  handed  him  my  sword,  and  in  half  a 
minute  after,  a  savage,  part  of  whose  head  was 
shaved,  being  almost  naked  and  painted,  with 
feathers  intermixed  with  the  hair  of  the  other  side 
of  his  head,  came  running  to  me  with  an  incredible 
swiftness  ;  he  seemed  to  advance  with  more  than 
mortal  speed  ;  as  he  approached  near  me,  his 
hellish  visage  was  beyond  all  description  ;  snake's 
eyes  appear  innocent  in  comparison  to  his  ;  his  fea- 
tures distorted  ;  malice,  death,  murder,  and  the 
wrath  of  devils  and  damned  spirits  are  the  emblems 
of  his  countenance  ;  and  in  less  than  twelve  feet 
of  me,  presented  his  firelock  ;  at  the  instant  of  his 
present,  I  twitched  the  officer,  to  whom  I  gave  my 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


281 


sword,  between  me  and  the  savage  ;  but  he  flew 
round  with  great  fury,  trying  to  single  me  out  to 
shoot  me  without  killing  the  officer  ;  but  by  this 
time  I  was  nearly  as  nimble  as  he,  keeping  the 
officer  in  such  a  position  that  his  danger  was  my 
defence  ;  but,  in  less  than  half  a  minute,  I  was  at- 
tacked by  just  such  another  imp  of  hell ;  then  I 
made  the  officer  fly  around  with  incredible  velo- 
city, for  a  few  seconds  of  time,  when  I  perceived 
a  Canadian,  who  had  lost  one  eye,  as  appeared 
afterwards,  taking  my  part  against  the  savages  ; 
and  in  an  instant  an  Irishman  came  to  my  assist- 
ance with  a  fixed  bayonet,  and  drove  away  the 
fiends,  swearing  he  would  kill  them.  This  tragic 
scene  composed  my  mind.  The  escaping  from  so 
awful  a  death  made  even  imprisonment  happy  ; 
the  more  so  as  my  conquerors  on  the  field  treated 
me  with  great  civility  and  politeness. 

His  Interview  with  Rivington. 

Allen's  interview  with  Rivington,  the  pleasure 
loving  king's  printer,  of  New  York,  during  his 
parole,  is  characteristic  of  both  parties.  Riving- 
ton had  offended  him  by  his  allusions,  and  the  old 
hero  swore  ' '  he  would  lick  him  the  first  opportu- 
nity he  had."  The  sequel  is  told  by  Rivington 
himself; 

"  I  was  sitting,"  says  he,  "  after  a  good  dinner, 
alone,  with  my  bottle  of  Madeira  before  me,  when 
I  heard  an  unusual  noise  in  the  street,  and  a 
huzza  from  the  boys.  1  was  in  the  second  story, 
and,  stepping  to  the  window,  saw  a  tall  figure  in 
tarnished  regimentals,  with  a  large  cocked  hat 
and  an  enormous  long  sword,  followed  by  a  crowd 
of  boys,  who  occasionally  cheered  him  with  huz- 
zas, of  which  he  seemed  insensible.  He  came  up 
to  my  door  and  stopped.  I  could  see  no  more. 
My  heart  told  me  it  was  Ethan  Allen.  I  shut  my 
window  and  retired  behind  my  table  and  my 
bottle.  I  was  certain  the  hour  of  reckoning  had 
come.  There  was  no  retreat.  Mr.  Staples,  my 
clerk,  came  in  paler  than  ever,  and,  clasping  his 
hands,  said,  '  Master,  he  has  come  !  '  'I  know 
it.'  '  He  entered  the  store  and  asked  '  if  James 
Rivington  lived  there  ?  '  I  answered,  'Yes,  sir.' 
'  Is  he  at  home  ?  '  'I  will  go  and  see,  sir, '  I  said  ; 
'  and  now,  master,  what  is  to  be  done  ?  There  he 
is  in  the  store,  and  the  boys  peeping  at  him  from 
the  street.'  I  had  made  up  my  mind.  I  looked 
at  the  Madeira — possibly  took  a  glass.  '  Show 
him  up,'  said  I;  'and  if  such  Madeira  cannot 
mollify  him,  he   must  be  harder  than  adamant.' 


There  was  a  fearful  moment  of  suspense.  I  heard 
him  on  the  stairs,  his  long  sword  clanking  at 
everj-  step.  In  he  stalked.  '  Is  your  name  James 
Rivington  ?  '  '  It  is  sir,  and  no  man  could  be 
more    happy  than  I  am   to    see    Colonel    Ethan 

Allen.'     'Sir,  I  have  come .'     'Not  another 

word,  my  dear  Colonel,  until  you  have  taken  a 
seat  and  a  glass  of  old  Madeira.'     'But,   sir,    I 

don't  think  it  proper '     '  Not  another  word, 

Colonel.  Taste  this  wine.  I  have  had  it  in  glass 
for  ten  years.  Old  wine,  you  know,  unless  it  is 
originally  sound,  never  improves  by  age.'  He 
took  the  glass,  swallowed  the  wine,  smacked  his 
lips,   and  shook  his  head  approvingly.      '  Sir,    I 

come '      '  Not   another  word   until    you  have 

taken  another  glass,  and  then,  my  dear  Colonel, 
we  will  talk  of  old  affairs,  and  I  have  some  queer 
events  to  detail.'  In  short,  we  finished  two 
bottles  of  Madeira,  and  parted  as  good  friends  as 
if  we  had  never  had  cause  to  be  otherwise." 

Personal  Appearance  of  Ethan  Allen. 

When  Alexander  Gray,  the  American  author, 
was  a  prisoner  of  war  in  New  York,  in  1777,  after 
the  loss  of  Fort  Washington,  he  met  Allen,  and 
has  left  in  his  "  Memoirs"  a  striking  account  of 
his  recollections  of  the  man. 

"His  figure,"  says  Gray,  "was  that  of  a  ro- 
bust,  large-framed  man,  worn  down  by  confine- 
ment and  hard  fare ;  but  he  was  now  recovering 
his  flesh  and  'spirits;  and  a  suit  of  blue  clothes, 
with  a  gold-laced  hat  that  had  been  presented  to 
him  by  the  gentlemen  of  Cork,  enabled  him  to 
make   a   very   passable   appearance   for    a  rebel 
colonel.     He  used   to   show  a  fracture  in  one  of 
his  teeth,  occasioned  by  his  twisting  off  with  it, 
in  a  fit  of  anger,  the  nail  which  fastened  the  bar 
of  his  hand-cuffs  ;  and  which  drew  from  one  of 
the     astonished   spectators   the    exclamation    of 
'  He  can  eat  iron  !'    His  style  was  a  singular  com- 
pound of  local  barbarisms,  scriptural  phrases,  and 
oriental  wildness  ;  and  though  unclassic  and  some- 
times ungrammatical,  it  was  highly  animated  and 
forcible.   In  the  following  sentence  of  his  narrative, 
though  it  is  not  perhaps  strictly  correct  in  its  con- 
struction, there  is  to  me,  a  flash  of  moral  pathos 
not  unworthy  a  Robertson  :     '  When  the  fleet, ' 
says  he,    '  consisting  of  about  forty-five  sail,  in- 
cluding five  men-of-war,  sailed  from  the  cove  (of 
Cork)   with  a   fresh  breeze,  the  appearance  was 
beautiful,  abstracted  from  the  unjust  and  bloody 
designs    they   had    in   view.'     Notwithstanding 


282 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


that  Allen  might  have  had  something  of  the  in- 
subordinate, lawless  frontier  spirit  in  his  composi- 
tion, having  been  in  a  state  of  hostility  with  the 
government  of  New  York  before  the  war  of  the 
revolution,  he  appeared  to  be  a  man  of  gener- 
osity and  honor ;  several  instances  of  which  occur 
in  his  publication,  and  one  not  equivocally  came 
under  my  own  observation.  General  Washing- 
ton, speaking  of  him  in  an  official  letter  of  May 
ths  12th,  17S8,  observes,  with  a  just  discrimina- 
tion, that  there  was  an  original  something  in  him 
which  commanded  admiration." 

How  Ethan  Allan  Proposed  to  His  Second  Wife. 

The  following  story  of  Ethan  Allen's  proposal 
to  his  second  wife  is  told  by  Du  Puy,  in  his 
"  History  of  Vermont :" 

General  Allen,  who  had  at  various  times  resided 
at  Bennington,  Arlington,  and  Tinmouth,  at  last 
took  up  his  residence  on  the  Winooski.  During 
a  session  of  the  court  at  Westminster,  he  appeared 
with  a  magnificent  pair  of  horses  and  a  black 
driver.  Chief  Justice  Robinson  and  Stephen  R. 
Bradley,  an  eminent  lawyer,  were  there,  and  as 
their  breakfast  was  on  the  table,  they  asked  Allen 
to  join  them.  He  replied  that  he  had  breakfasted, 
and  while  they  were  at  the  table,  he  would  go  in 
and  see  Mrs.  Buchanan,  a  handsome  widow  who 
was  at  the  house.  He  entered  the  sitting-room, 
and  at  once  said  to  Mrs.  Buchanan,  "Well,  Fanny, 
if  we  are  to  be  married,  let  us  be  about  it." 
"Yen-  well,"  she  promptly  replied,  "give  me 
time  to  fix  up."  In  a  few  minutes  she  was  read}-, 
and  Judge  Robinson  was  at  once  called  upon  by 
them  to  perform  the  customary  ceremony.  Said 
Allen,  "Judge,  Mrs.  Buchanan  and  I  have  con- 
cluded to  be  married  ;  I  don't  care  much  about 
the  ceremony,  and  as  near  as  I  can  find  out,  Fanny 
cares  as  little  for  it  as  I  do  ;  but  as  a  decent  re- 
spect for  the  customs  of  society  requires  it  of  us, 
we  are  willing  to  have  the  ceremony  performed." 
The  gentlemen  present  were  much  surprised,  and 
Judge  Robinson  replied,  "General  Allen,  this  is 
an  important  matter  ;  have  you  thought  seriously 
of  it?"  "Yes,  yes,"  exclaimed  Allen,  looking  at 
Mrs.  Buchanan;  "but  it  don't  require  much 
thought."  Judge  Robinson  then  rose  from  his 
seat  and  said,  "Join  your  hands  together.  Ethan 
Allen,  you  take  this  woman  to  be  your  lawful  and 
wedded  wife  :  you  promise  to  love  and  protect  her 
.according  to  the  law  of  God  and "      "Stop, 


stop,  Judge.  The  law  of  God,"  said  Allen,  look- 
ing forth  upon  the  fields  ;  "all  nature  is  full  of  it. 
Yes,  go  on.  My  team  is  at  the  door."  As  soon 
as  the  ceremony  was  ended,  General  Allen  and  his 
bride  entered  his  carriage  and  drove  off. 

Incidents  of  Allen's  Singular  Character. 
Two  anecdotes  of  Allen  show  the  best  nature 
of  the  man.  He  once  gave  a  note  to  a  citi- 
zen of  Boston,  who  put  it  in  collection  in  Ver- 
mont. Judgment  was  about  being  taken,  when 
Allen  employed  a  lawyer  to  stay  proceedings.  To 
his  surprise,  he  heard,  from  a  distant  part  of  the 
court-house,  his  lawyer  den}'  the  signature,  upon 
which  he  rushed  forward,  and  in  a  loud,  indignant 

tone,   confronted  him:   "Mr.  ,   I  didn't  hire 

you  to  come  here  and  lie.  That  is  a  true  note.  I 
signed  it;  I'll  swear  to  it;  and  I'll  pay  it  !  I 
want  no  shuffling.  I  want  time.  What  I  em- 
ployed you  for,  was  to  get  this  business  put  over 
to  the  next  court ;  not  to  come  here  and  lie  and 
juggle  about  it."  This  proves  his  honor  ;  another 
instance  shows  his  humanity.  When  two  children, 
daughters  of  a  settler,  were  once  lost  in  the  woods 
of  Vermont,  search  was  made  for  them  by  the 
townspeople  and  given  up.  Allen  mounted  a 
stump,  made  an  eloquent,  pathetic  appeal,  rallied 
the  company  for  a  new  expedition,  and  the  chil- 
dren were  restored  to  their  parents.  Another 
anecdote  is  somewhat  ludicrous,  but  energetic. 
While  at  Tinmouth,  he  was  one  day  in  the  house 
of  the  village  physician  when  a  lady  was  present 
for  the  purpose  of  having  a  tooth  drawn.  As 
often  as  the  doctor  was  read}',  the  lady's  timidity 
baulked  his  operations.  Allen's  big  nature  grew 
restive  at  the  sight.  "  Here,  doctor,  take  out  one 
of  my  teeth."  "  But  your  teeth  are  all  sound." 
"Nevermind.  Do  as  I  direct  you."  Out  came 
a  tooth.  ' '  Now,  madam, ' '  says  Allen  to  the  lady, 
"take  courage  from  the  example."  He  once 
threatened  to  apply  the  argumentum  ad  hominem 
in  this  novel  form  on  a  somewhat  larger  scale  A 
man  had  been  convicted  of  supplying  the  British 
with  provisions,  and  been  sentenced  by  a  jury  of 
six  to  be  hung.  A  lawyer  interposed  for  a  new 
trial,  as  twelve  must  constitute  a  legal  jury.  The 
public  was  disappointed  at  the  reprieve.  Allen 
addressed  them  with  an  oath,  advising  to  wait  for 
the  day  next  appointed,  promising,  "You  shall 
see  somebody  hung  at  all  events  ;  for  if  Redding 
is  not  then  hung,  I  will  be  hung  myself."- 


BEAUTIFUL   IN  THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


283 


CAPTURE  OF  TICONDEROGA. 


ay 


grand  old  revolutionary  hero,  Ethan  Allen, 
with  his  own  graphic  and  stirring  account  of  his 
famous  capture  of  Ticonderoga  : 

Ever  since  I  arrived  at  the  state  of  manhood, 
and  acquainted  myself  with  the  general  history 
of  mankind,  I  have  felt  a  sincere  passion  for  lib- 
erty-. The  history  of  nations,  doomed  to  per- 
petual slavery,  in  consequences  of  yielding  up  to 
tyrants  their  natural-born  liberties,  I  read  with  a 
sort  of  philosophical  horror  ;  so  that  the  first  sys- 
tematical and  bloody  attempt,  at  Lexington,  to 
enslave  America,  thoroughly  electrified  my  mind, 
and  fully  determined  me  to  take  part  with  my 
country.  And,  while  I  was  wishing  for  an  oppor- 
tunity to  signalize  myself  in  its  behalf,  directions 
were  privately  sent  to  me  from  the  then  colon)' 
(now  state)  of  Connecticut,  to  raise  the  Green- 
Mountain  Boys,  and,  if  possible,  with  them  to 
surprise  and  take  the  fortress  of  Ticonderoga. 
This  enterprise  I  cheerfully  undertook ;  and, 
after  first  guarding  all  the  several  passes  that  led 
thither,  to  cut  off  all  intelligence  between  the 
garrison  and  the  country,  made  a  forced  march 
from  Bennington,  and  arrived  at  the  lake  oppo- 
site to  Ticonderoga,  on  the  evening  of  the  ninth 
day  of  May,  1775,  with  two  hundred  and  thirty 
valiant  Green-Mountain  Boys  ;  and  it  was  with 
the  utmost  difficult}-  that  I  procured  boats  to  cross 
the  lake.  However,  I  landed  eighty-three  men 
near  the  garrison,  and  sent  the  boats  back  for  the 
rear-guard,  commanded  by  Col.  Seth  Warner,  but 
the  day  began  to  dawn,  and  I  found  myself  under 
the  necessity'  to  attack  the  fort,  before  the  rear 
could  cross  the  lake  ;  and,  as  it  was  viewed  haz- 
ardous, I  harangued  the  officers  and  soldiers  in 
the  manner  following  :  — 

' '  Friends  and  fellow  soldiers — you  have  for  a 
number  of  years  past  been  a  scourge  and  terror  to 
arbitrary  power.  Your  valor  has  been  famed 
abroad,  and  acknowledged,  as  appears  by  the  ad- 
vice and  orders  to  me,  from  the  General  Assembly 
of  Connecticut,  to  surprise  and  take  the  garrison 
now  before  us.  I  now  propose  to  advance  before 
you,  and,  in  person,  conduct  you  through  the 
wicket-gate,  for  we  must  this  morning  either  quit 
our  pretensions  to  valor,  or  possess  ourselves  of 
this  fortress  in  a  few  minutes  ;  and,  inasmuch  as 
it  is  a  desperate  attempt,  which  none  but  the 
bravest  of  men  dare  undertake,  I  do  not  urge  it 


on  an)'  contrary  to  his  will.  You  that  will  under- 
take voluntarily,  poise  your  firelocks. ' ' 

The  men  being,  at  that  time,  drawn  up  in  three 
ranks,  each  poised  his  firelock.  I  ordered  them 
to  face  to  the  right,  and  at  the  head  of  the  centre- 
file,  marched  them  immediately  to  the  wicket- 
gate  aforesaid,  where  I  found  a  sentry  posted,  who 
instantly  snapped  his  fusee  at  me  ;  I  ran  immedi- 
ately towards  him,  and  he  retreated  through  the 
covered  way  into  the  parade  within  the  garrison, 
gave  a  halloo,  and  ran  under  a  bomb-proof.  My 
party,  who  followed  me  into  the  fort,  I  formed 
on  the  parade  in  such  a  manner  as  to  face  the  two 
barracks  which  faced  each  other. 

The  garrison  being  asleep,  except  the  sentries, 
we  gave  three  huzzas  which  greatly  surprised 
them.  One  of  the  sentries  made  a  pass  at  one  of 
my  officers  with  a  charged  bayonet,  and  slightly 
wounded  him  :  My  first  thought  was  to  kill  him 
with  my  sword  ;  but,  in  an  instant,  I  altered  the 
design  and  fury  of  the  blow  to  a  slight  cut  on  the 
side  of  the  head,  upon  which  he  dropped  his  gun, 
and  asked  quarter,  which  I  readily  granted  him, 
and  demanded  of  him  the  place  where  the  com- 
manding officer  kept  ;  he  shewed  me  a  pair  of 
stairs  in  the  front  of  a  barrack,  on  the  west  part 
of  the  garrison,  which  led  up  to  a  second  story  in 
said  barrack,  to  which  I  immediately  repaired, 
and  ordered  the  commander,  Captain  De  la  Place, 
to  come  forth  instantly,  or  I  would  sacrifice  the 
whole  garrison  ;  at  which  the  Capt.  came  imme- 
diately to  the  door,  with  his  breeches  in  his  hand  ; 
when  I  ordered  him  to  deliver  me  the  fort  in- 
stantly ;  he  asked  me  by  what  authority  I  de- 
manded it :  I  answered  him,  "In  the  name  of 
the  Great  Jehovah,  and  the  Continental  Con- 
gress." The  authority  of  the  Congress  being 
very  little  known  at  that  time,  he  began  to 
speak  again  ;  but  I  interrupted  him,  and  with 
my  drawn  sword  over  his  head,  again  demanded 
an  immediate  surrender  of  the  garrison  ;  with 
which  he  then  complied,  and  ordered  his  men  to 
be  forthwith  paraded  without  arms,  as  he  had 
given  up  the  garrison.  In  the  mean  time  some  of 
my  officers  had  given  orders,  and  in  consequence 
thereof,  sundry  of  the  barrack  doors  were  beat 
down,  and  about  one  third  of  the  garrison  im- 
prisoned, which  consisted  of  the  said  commander, 
a  Lieut.  Feltham,  a  conductor  of  artillery,  a 
gunner,  two  Serjeants,  and  forty-four  rank  and 
file ;    about  one  hundred  pieces  of  cannon,  one 


284 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


thirteen  inch  mortar,  and  a  number  of  swivels. 
This  surprise  was  carried  into  execution  in  the 
grey  of  the  morning  of  the  tenth  of  May,  1775. 
The  sun  seemed  to  rise  that  morning  with  a 
superior  lustre  ;  and  Ticonderoga  and  its  depend- 
encies smiled  to  its  conquerors,  who  tossed  about 
the  flowing  bowl,  and  wished  success  to  Congress, 
and  the  liberty  and  freedom  of  America. 


THE  VENDEAN  WAR. 
BY  VICTOR  HUGO. 

CHERE  were  at  that  time  seven  ill-famed  forests 
in  Brittany.  The  Vendean  war  was  a  revolt  of 
priests.  This  revolt  had  the  forests  as  auxiliaries. 
These  spirits  of  darkness  aid  one  another. 

The  seven  black  forests  of  Brittany  were  the 
forest  of  Fougeres,  which  stopped  the  way  between 
Dol  and  Avranches  ;  the  forest  of  Prince,  which 
was  eight  leagues  in  circumference  ;  the  forest  of 
Paimpol,  full  of  ravines  and  brooks,  almost  inac- 
cessible on  the  side  towaid  Baignon,  with  an  easy 
retreat  upon  Concornet,  which  was  a  royalist  town ; 
the  forest  of  Rennes,  from  whence  could  be  heard 
the  tocsin  of  the  Republican  parishes — always  nu- 
merous in  the  neighborhood  of  the  cities — it  was 
in  this  forest  that  Puysaye  lost  Focard  ;  the  forest 
of  Machecoul,  which  had  Charette  for  its  wild 
beast ;  the  forest  of  Garnache,  which  belonged  to 
the  Tremoilles,  the  Gauvains,  and  the  Rohans  ; 
and  the  forest  of  Broceliande,  which  belonged  to 
the  fairies. 

If  one  wish  to  comprehend  Vendee,  one  must 
picture  to  one's  self  this  antagonism  :  on  one  side 
the  French  Revolution,  on  the  other  the  Breton 
peasant.  In  face  of  these  unparalleled  events — an 
immense  promise  of  all  benefits  at  once — a  fit  of 
rage  for  civilization — an  excess  of  maddened  pro- 
gress— an  improvement  that  exceeded  measure 
and  comprehension — must  be  placed  this  grave, 
strange,  savage  man,  with  an  eagle  glar.ce  and 
flowing  hair,  living  on  milk  and  chestnuts,  his 
ideas  bounded  by  his  thatched  roof,  his  hedge,  and 
his  ditch,  able  to  distinguish  the  sound  of  each 
village  bell  in  the  neighborhood,  using  water  only 
to  drink,  wearing  a  leather  jacket  covered  with 
silk-  arabesques — uncultivated,  but  clad  embroid- 
ered— tattooing  his  garments  as  his  ancestors,  the 
Celts,  had  tattooed  their  faces,  looking  up  to  a 
master  in  his  executioner,  speaking  a  dead  lan- 
guage, which  was  like  forcing  his  thoughts  to 
dwell  in  a  tomb  ;  driving  his  bullocks,  sharpening 


his  scythe,  winnowing  his  black  grain,  kneading 
his  buckwheat  biscuit,  venerating  his  plow  first, 
his  grandmother  next ;  believing  in  the  Blessed 
Virgin  and  the  White  Lady  ;  devoted  to  the  altar, 
but  also  to  the  lofty  mysterious  stone  standing  in 
the  midst  of  the  moor  ;  a  laborer  in  the  plain,  a 
fisher  on  the  coast,  a  poacher  in  the  thicket,  lov- 
ing his  kings,  his  lords,  his  priests,  his  very  lice ; 
pensive,  often  immovable  for  entire  hours  upon 
the  great  deserted  sea-shore,  a  melancholy  listener 
to  the  sea. 

It  is  difficult  to  picture  to  one's  self  what  those 
Breton  forests  really  were  ;  they  were  towns. 
Xothing  could  be  more  secret,  more  silent,  and 
more  savage  than  those  inextricable  entanglements 
of  thorns  and  branches  ;  those  vast  thickets  were 
the  home  of  immobility  and  silence  ;  no  solitude 
could  present  an  appearance  more  death-like  and 
sepulchral  ;  yet  if  it  had  been  possible  to  fell  those 
trees  at  one  blow,  as  by  a  flash  of  lightning,  a 
swarm  of  men  would  have  stood  revealed  in  those 
shades.  There  were  wells,  round  and  narrow, 
masked  by  coverings  of  stones  and  branches,  the 
interior  at  first  vertical,  then  horizontal,  spread- 
out  underground  like  funnels,  and  ending  in  dark 
chambers  ;  Cambyses  found  such  in  Egypt,  and 
Vestermaun  found  the  same  in  Brittany.  There 
they  were  found  in  the  desert,  here  in  the  forest  ; 
the  caves  of  Egypt  held  dead  men,  the  caves  of 
Brittany  were  filled  with  the  living.  One  of  the 
wildest  glades  of  the  wood  of  Misdon,  perforated 
by  galleries  and  cells,  amid  which  came  and  went 
a  mysterious  society,  was  called  "the great  city." 
Another  glade,  not  less  deserted  above  ground 
and  not  less  inhabited  beneath,  was  styled  ' '  the 
place  royal."  This  subterranean  life  had  existed 
in  Brittany  from  time  immemorial.  From  the 
earliest  days  man  had  there  hidden,  flying  from 
man.  Hence  those  hiding-places,  like  the  dens 
of  reptiles,  hollowed  out  below  the  trees.  They 
dated  from  the  era  of  the  Druids,  and  certain  of 
those  crypts  were  as  ancient  as  the  cromlechs. 
The  larvae  of  legend  and  the  monsters  of  history 
all  passed  across  that  shadowy-  land.  Teutates, 
Caesar,  Hoel,  Xeomenes,  Geoffrey  of  England, 
Alain  of  the  iron  glove,  Pierre  Manclerc,  the 
French  house  of  Blois,  the  English  house  of  Mont- 
fort,  kings  and  dukes,  the  nine  barons  of  Brittany, 
the  judges  of  the  Great  Days,  the  counts  of 
Xantes  contesting  with  the  counts  of  Rennes, 
highwaymen,   banditti,    Free    Lances,    Rene  II., 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


285 


Viscount  de  Rohan,  the  governors  for  the  king, 
"  the  good  Duke  of  Chaulnes,  "  hanging  the  peas- 
ants under  the  windows  of  Madame  de  Sevigne  ; 
in  the  fifteenth  century,  the  butcheries  by  the 
nobles ;  in  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centu- 
ries, the  wars  of  religion  ;  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, the  thirty  thousand  dogs  trained  to  hunt 
men.  Beneath  these  pitiless  tramplings  the  in- 
habitants made  up  their  minds  to  disappear.  Each 
in  turn — the  Troglodytes  to  escape  the  Celts,  the 
Celts  to  escape  the  Romans,  the  Bretons  to  escape 
the  Normans,  the  Huguenots  to  escape  the  Roman 


Brittany  revolted,  finding  itself  oppressed  by 
this  forced  deliverance — a  mistake  natural  to 
slaves. 

The  gloomy  Breton  forests  took  up  anew  their 
ancient  role,  and  were  the  servants  and  accom- 
plices of  this  rebellion,  as  they  had  been  of  all 
others.  The  subsoil  of  every  forest  was  a  sort  of 
madrepore,  pierced  and  traversed  in  all  directions 
by  a  secret  highway  of  mines,  cells  and  galleries. 
Each  one  of  these  blind  cells  could  shelter  five  or 
six  men.  There  are  in  existence  certain  strange 
lists  which  enable  one  to  understand  the  powerful 


HUT   OF    A   VKNDKAN    PEASANT. 


Catholics,  the  smugglers  to  escape  the  excise  offi- 
cers— took  refuge  first  in  the  forests  and  then 
underground — the  resource  of  hunted  animals.  It 
it  this  to  which  tyranny  reduces  nations.  During 
two  thousand  years  despotism  under  all  its  forms — 
conquest,  feudality,  fanaticism,  taxes — beset  this 
wretched,  distracted  Brittany  :  a  sort  of  inexora- 
ble battue,  which  only  ceased  under  one  shape  to 
recommence  under  another.  Men  hid  under- 
ground. When  the  French  Republic  burst  forth, 
terror,  which  is  a  species  of  rage,  was  already 
latent  in  human  souls,  and  when  the  Republic 
burst  forth,  the  dens  were  already  in  the  woods. 


organization  of  that  past  peasant  rebellion.  In 
Ule-et-Vilaine,  in  the  forest  of  Petre,  the  refuge 
of  the  Prince  de  Talmont,  not  a  breath  was 
heard,  not  a  human  trace  to  be  found,  yet  there 
collected  six  thousand  men  under  Focard.  In 
the  forest  of  Meulac,  in  Morbihan,  not  a  soul  was 
to  be  seen,  yet  it  held  eight  thousand  men.  Still, 
these  two  forests,  Petre  and  Meulac,  do  not  count 
among  the  great  Breton  forests.  If  one  trod 
there,  the  explosion  was  terrible.  Those  hypo- 
critical copses,  filled  with  fighters  waiting  in  a 
sort  of  underground  labyrinth,  were  like  enor- 
mous black  sponges,  whence,  under  the  pressure 


286 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


of  the    gigautic    foot    of   Revolution,    civil   war 
spurted  out. 

Invisible  battalions  lay  there  in  wait.  These 
untrackable  armies  wound  along  beneath  the  Re- 
publican troops  ;  burst  suddenly  forth  from  the 
earth  and  sank  into  it  again,  sprang  up  in  num- 
berless force  and  vanished  at  will,  gifted  with  a 
strange  ubiquity  and  power  of  disappearance  ;  an 
avalanche  at  one  instant,  gone  like  a  cloud  of 
dust  at  the  next ;  colossal,  yet  able  to  become 
pigmies  at  will ;  giants  in  battle,  dwarfs  in  ability 
to  conceal  themselves — jaguars  with  the  habits  of 
moles. 

The  women  lived  in  the  huts,  and  the  men  in 
the  cellars.  In  carrying  on  the  war,  they  utilized 
the  galleries  of  the  fairies  and  the  old  Celtic  mines. 
Food  was  carried  to  the  buried  men.  Some  were 
forgotten  and  died  of  hunger;  but  these  were 
awkward  fellows  who  had  not  known  how  to 
open  the  mouth  of  their  well.  Usually  the  cover, 
made  of  moss  and  branches,  was  so  artistically 
fashioned  that,  although  impossible  on  the  out- 
side to  distinguish  from  the  surrounding  turf,  it 
was  very  easy  to  open  and  close  on  the  inside. 
These  hiding-places  were  dug  with  care.  The 
earth  taken  out  of  the  well  was  thrown  into  some 
neighboring  pond.  The  sides  and  bottoms  were 
carpeted  with  ferns  and  moss.  These  nooks  were 
called  ' '  lodges. ' '  The  men  were  as  comfortable 
there  as  could  be  expected,  considering  that  they 
lacked  light,  fire,  bread  and  air. 

It  was  a  difficult  matter  to  unbury  themselves 
and  come  up  among  the  living  without  great  pre- 
caution. They  might  find  themselves  between 
the  legs  of  an  army  on  the  march.  These  were 
formidable  woods ;  snares  with  a  double  trap. 
The  Blues  dared  not  enter ;  the  Whites  dared  not 
come  out. 

These  underground  belligerents  were  kept  per- 
fectly informed  of  what  was  going  on.  Nothing 
could  be  more  rapid,  nothing  more  mysterious, 
than  their  means  of  communication.  They  had 
cut  all  the  bridges,  broken  up  all  the  wagons, 
yet  the\-  found  means  to  tell  each  other  every - 
thing,  to  give  each  other  timely  warning.  Re- 
lays of  emissaries  were  established  from  forest  to 
forest,  from  village  to  village,  from  farm  to  farm, 
from  cottage  to  cottage,  from  bush  to  bush.  A 
peasant  with  a  stupid  air  passed  by :  he  carried 
dispatches  in  his  hollow  stick.  Man}'  of  them 
were    only   armed   with    pikes.     Good   fowling- 


pieces  were  abundant.  No  marksmen  could  be 
more  expert  than  the  poachers  of  the  Bocage 
and  the  smugglers  of  the  Loroux.  They  were 
strange  combatants — terrible  and  intrepid. 

In  order  to  attack  the  Blues  and  to  leap  the 
ravines,  they  had  their  poles  fifteen  feet  in  length, 
called  ferte,  an  arm  available  for  combat  and  for 
flight.  In  the  thickest  of  the  frays,  when  the 
peasants  were  attacking  the  Republican  squares, 
if  they  chanced  to  meet  upon  the  battle-field  a 
cross  or  a  chapel,  all  fell  upon  their  knees  and 
said  a  prayer  under  the  enemy's  fire  ;  the  rosary 
counted,  such  as  were  still  living  sprang  up  again 
and  rushed  upon  the  foe.  Alas,  what  giants  ! 
They  loaded  their  guns  as  the}-  ran  ;  that  was 
their  peculiar  talent.  They  were  made  to  believe 
whatever  their  leaders  chose.  The  priests  showed 
them  other  priests  whose  necks  had  been  reddened 
by  means  of  a  cord,  and  said  to  them,  "These 
are  the  guillotined  who  have  been  brought  back 
to  life."  They  had  their  spasms  of  chivalry  : 
they  honored  Fesque,  a  Republican  standard- 
bearer,  who  allowed  himself  to  be  sabred  without 
losing  hold  of  his  flag.  The  peasants  had  a  vein 
of  mockery  :  they  called  the  Republican  and 
married  priests  "  Des  sans-caloites  devenus  sans- 
culottes"  ("The  unpetticoated  become  the  un- 
breeched  "). 

They  began  by  being  afraid  of  the  cannon, 
then  they  dashed  forward  with  their  sticks  and 
took  them.  They  captured  first  a  fine  bronze 
cannon,  which  they  baptized  "The  Missionary  ;" 
then  another  which  dated  from  the  Roman  Catho- 
lic wars,  upon  which  were  engraved  the  arms  of 
Richelieu  and  a  head  of  the  Virgin  ;  this  they 
named  "Marie  Jeanne."  When  they  lost  Fon- 
tenay  they  lost  Marie  Jeanne,  about  which  six 
hundred  peasants  fell  without  flinching ;  then 
they  retook  Fontenay  in  order  to  recover  Marie 
Jeanne  :  they  brought  it  back  beneath  a  fleur-de- 
lis  embroidered  banner,  and  covered  with  flowers, 
and  forced  the  women  who  passed  to  kiss  it.  But 
two  cannons  were  a  small  store.  Stofflet  had 
taken  Marie  Jeanne  ;  Cathelineau,  jealous  of  his 
success,  started  out  of  Pinen-Mange,  assaulted 
Jallaiz,  and  captured  a  third.  Forest  attacked 
Saint-Florent,  and  took  a  fourth.  Two  other 
captains,  Chouppes  and  Saint  Pol,  did  better; 
they  simulated  cannons  by  the  trunks  of  trees, 
gunners  by  mannikins,  and  with  this  artillery, 
about   which   they   laughed   heartily,    made  the 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


28 


Blues  retreat  to  Mareuil.  This  was  their  great 
era.  Later,  when  Chalbos  routed  La  Marson- 
niere,  the  peasants  left  behind  them  on  the  dis- 
honored field  of  battle  thirty-two  cannon  bearing 
the  arms  of  England. 

The}- styled  the  "Jacobin  herd"  those  of  the 
country  people  who  had  joined  the  Blues,  and 
exterminated  such  with  more  ferocity  than  other 
foes.  They  loved  battle  like  soldiers,  and  mas- 
sacre like  brigands.  To  shoot  the  ' '  clumsy  fel- 
lows " — that  is,  the  bourgeois — pleased  them; 
they  called  that  ' '  breaking  Lent. ' '  At  Fonte- 
nay,  one  of  their  priests,  the  Cure  Barbotin, 
struck  down  an  old  mail  by  a  sabre  stroke.  At 
Saint-Germain-sur-Ille,  one  of  their  captains,  a 
nobleman,  shot  the  solicitor  of  the  Commune  and 
took  his  watch.  At  Machecoul,  for  five  weeks 
the}-  shot  Republicans  at  the  rate  of  thirty  a  day, 
setting  them  in  a  row,  which  was  called  "the 
rosary."  Back  of  the  line  was  a  trench,  into 
which  some  of  the  victims  fell  alive  ;  they  were 
buried  all  the  same.  We  have  seen  a  revival  of 
such  actions.  Joubert,  the  president  of  the  dis- 
trict, had  his  hands  sawed  off.  They  put  sharp 
handcuffs,  forged  expressly,  on  the  Blues,  whom 
the}'  made  prisoners.  They  massacred  them  in 
the  public  places,  with  the  hunting  cry,  "In  at 
the  death."  They  preferred  a  cartridge  to  a  gold 
louis.  They  wept  when  they  lost  sight  of  their 
village  belfry.  To  run  away  seemed  perfectly 
natural  to  them  ;  at  such  times  the  leaders  would 
cry  :  ' '  Throw  off  your  sabots,  but  keep  your 
guns."  When  munitions  were  wanting,  they 
counted  their  rosaries  and  rushed  forth  to  seize 
the  powder  in  the  caissons  of  the  Republican 
artillery  ;  later,  D'Elbee  demanded  powder  from 
the  English.  If  the}'  had  wounded  men  among 
them,  at  the  approach  of  the  enemy  they  con- 
cealed these  in  the  grain-fields  or  among  the  ferns, 
and  went  back  in  search  of  them  when  the  fight 
was  ended.  They  had  no  uniforms.  Their  gar- 
ments were  torn  to  bits.  Peasants  and  nobles 
wrapped  themselves  in  any  rags  they  could  find. 
Roger  Mouliniers  wore  a  turban  and  a  pelisse 
taken  from  the  wardrobe  of  the  theatre  of  La 
Fleche  ;  the  Chevalier  de  Beauvilliers  wore  a  bar- 
rister's gown,  and  set  a  woman's  bonnet  on  his 
head  over  a  woolen  cap.  All  wore  the  white  belt 
and  a  scarf;  different  grades  were  marked  by  the 
knots.  Stofnet  had  a  red  knot ;  La  Rochejacque- 
lein  had  a  black  knot ;  Wimpfen,  who  was  half  a 


Girondist,  and  who  for  that  matter  never  left 
Normandy,  wore  the  leather  jacket  of  the  Cara- 
bots  of  Caen.  They  had  women  in  their  ranks  : 
Madame  de  Lescure,  who  became  Madame  de  la 
Rochejacquelein  ;  Therese  de  Mollien,  the  mis- 
tress of  La  Rouarie — she  who  burned  the  list  of 
the  chiefs  of  the  parishes  ;  Madame  de  la  Roche- 
foucauld— beautiful,  young — who,  sabre  in  hand, 
rallied  the  peasants  at  the  foot  of  the  great  tower 
of  the  castle  of  Puy  Rousseau  ;  and  that  Antoi- 
nette Adams,  styled  the  Chevalier  Adams,  who 
was  so  brave  that  when  captured  she  was  shot 
standing,  out  of  respect  for  her  courage. 

This  epic  period  was  a  cruel  one.  Men  were 
mad.  Madame  de  Lescure  made  her  horse  tread 
upon  the  Republicans  stretched  on  the  ground  ; 
dead,  she  averred  ;  only  wounded  perhaps.  Some- 
times men  proved  traitors ;  the  women,  never. 
Mademoiselle  Fleury,  of  the  Theatre  Francais, 
went  from  La  Rouarie  to  Marat,  but  it  was  for  love. 
The  captains  were  often  as  ignorant  as  the  soldiers. 
Monsieur  de  Sapinaud  could  not  spell ;  he  was  at 
fault  in  regard  to  the  orthography  of  the  common- 
est word.  There  was  enmity  among  the  leaders. 
The  captains  of  the  Marais  cried:  "Down  with 
those  of  the  High  Country  !"  Their  cavalry  were 
not  numerous  and  difficult  to  form.  Puysaye 
writes  :  "  Many  a  man  who  would  cheerfully  give 
me  his  two  sons  grows  lukewarm  if  I  ask  for  one 
of  his  horses."  Poles,  pitchforks,  reaping-hooks, 
guns  old  and  new,  poacher's  knives,  spits,  cud- 
gels, bound  and  studded  with  iron,  these  were 
the  arms  ;  some  of  them  carried  slung  round  them 
crosses  made  of  dead  men's  bones. 

They  rushed  to  an  attack  with  loud  cries, 
springing  up  suddenly  from  every  quarter,  from 
the  woods,  the  hills,  the  bushes,  the  hollows  of 
the  roads,  killing,  exterminating,  destroying, 
then  were  gone.  When  they  marched  through  a 
Republican  town  they  cut  down  the  liberty  pole, 
set  it  on  fire,  and  danced  in  circles  about  it  as  it 
burned.  All  their  habits  were  nocturnal.  The 
Vendean  rule  was,  always  to  appear  unexpectedly. 
They  would  march  fifteen  leagues  in  silence,  not 
so  much  as  stirring  a  blade  of  grass  as  they  went. 
When  evening  came,  after  the  chiefs  had  settled 
what  Republican  posts  should  be  surprised  on  the 
morrow,  the  men  loaded  their  guns,  mumbled 
their  prayers,  pulled  off  their  sabots,  and  filed  in 
long  columns  through  the  woods,  marching  bare- 
foot  across   heath   and  moss,    without  a  sound, 


288 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


without  a  word,  without  a  breath.     It  was  like  a 
march  of  cats  through  the  darkness. 


UJ' 


THRILLING  ADVENTURE  WITH  CROCODILES 
ON   THE  ST.  JOHN'S  RIVER. 

JE  copy  the  following  thrilling  incidents 
from  the  writings  of  William  Bartram, 
the  American  Naturalist,  relating  his  remarkable 
experiences  on  the  St.  John's  river,  in  Florida, 
while  exploring  that  country  for  scientific  pur- 
poses in  1772 : 

The  evening  was  temperately  cool  and  calm. 
The  crocodiles  began  to  roar  and  appear  in  un- 
common numbers  along  the  shores  and  in  the 
river.  I  fixed  my  camp  in  an  open  plain,  near 
the  utmost  projection  of  the  promontory,  under 
the  shelter  of  a  large  live  oak,  which  stood  on 
the  highest  part  of  the  ground,  and  but  a  few 
yards  from  my  boat.  From  this  open,  high  situ- 
ation, I  had  a  free  prospect  of  the  river,  which 
was  a  matter  of  no  trivial  consideration  to  me, 
having  good  reason  to  dread  the  subtle  attacks 
of  the  alligators,  who  were  crowding  about  my 
harbor.  Having  collected  a  good  quantity  of 
wood  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  up  a  light  and 
smoke  during  the  night,  I  began  to  think  of  pre- 
paring my  supper,  when,  upon  examining  my 
stores,  I  found  but  a  scanty  provision.  I  there- 
upon determined,  as  the  most  expeditious  way  of 
supplying  my  necessities,  to  take  my  bob  and  try 
for  some  trout.  About  one  hundred  yards  above 
my  harbor  began  a  cove  or  bay  of  the  river,  out 
of  which  opened  a  large  lagoon.  The  mouth  or 
entrance  from  the  river  to  it  was  narrow,  but  the 
waters  soon  after  spread  and  formed  a  little  lake, 
extending  into  the  marshes  :  its  entrance  and 
shores  within  I  observed  to  be  verged  with  float- 
ing lawns  of  the  pistia  and  nymphea  and  other 
acquatic  plants ;  these  I  knew  were  excellent 
haunts  for  trout. 

The  verges  and  islets  of  the  lagoon  were  ele- 
gantly embellished  with  flowering  plants  and 
shrubs  ;  the  laughing  coots  with  wings  half  spread 
were  tripping  over  the  little  coves,  and  hiding 
themselves  in  the  tufts  of  grass  ;  young  broods 
of  the  painted  summer  teal,  skimming  the  still 
surface  of  the  waters,  and  following  the  watchful 
parent  unconscious  of  danger,  were  frequently 
surprised  by  the  voracious  trout  ;  and  he,  in  turn, 
as  often  by  the  subtle  greedy  alligator.  Behold 
him  rushins;  forth  from  the  flags  and  reeds.      His 


enormous  body  swells.  His  plaited  tail,  brand- 
ished high,  floats  upon  the  lake.  The  waters 
like  a  cataract  descend  from  his  opening  jaws. 
Clouds  of  smoke  issue  from  his  dilated  nostrils. 
The  earth  trembles  with  his  thunder.  When 
immediately  from  the  opposite  coast  of  the  lagoon 
emerges  from  the  deep  his  rival  champion.  The}' 
suddenly  dart  upon  each  other.  The  boiling 
surface  of  the  lake  marks  their  rapid  course,  and 
terrific  conflict  commences.  The}-  now  sink  to 
the  bottom  folded  together  in  horrid  wreaths. 
The  water  becomes  thick  and  discolored.  Again 
they  rise,  their  jaws  clap  together,  re-echoing 
through  the  deep  surrounding  forests.  Again 
they  sink,  when  the  contest  ends  at  the  muddy 
bottom  of  the  lake,  and  the  vanquished  makes  a 
hazardous  escape,  hiding  himself  in  the  muddy 
turbulent  waters  and  sedge  on  a  distant  shore. 
The  proud  victor  exulting  returns  to  the  place  of 
action.  The  shores  and  forests  resound  his  dread- 
ful roar,  together  with  the  triumphing  shouts  of 
the  plaited  tribes  around,  witnesses  of  the  horrid 
combat. 

My  apprehensions  were  highly  alarmed  after 
being  a  spectator  of  so  dreadful  a  battle.  It  was 
obvious  that  every  delay  would  but  tend  to  in- 
crease my  dangers  and  difficulties,  as  the  sun 
was  near  setting,  and  the  alligators  gathered 
around  my  harbor  from  all  quarters.  From 
these  considerations  I  concluded  to  be  expeditious 
in  my  trip  to  the  lagoon,  in  order  to  take  some 
fish.  Not  thinking  it  prudent  to  take  my  fusee 
with  me,  lest  I  might  lose  it  overboard  in  case  of  a 
battle,  which  I  had  ever}-  reason  to  dread  be- 
fore my  return,  I  therefore  furnished  myself  with 
a  club  for  my  defense,  went  on  board,  and  pene- 
trating the  first  line  of  those  which  surrounded 
my  harbor,  they  gave  way  ;  but  being  pursued 
by  several  very  large  ones,  I  kept  strictly  on  the 
watch,  and  paddled  with  all  my  might  towards 
the  entrance  of  the  lagoon,  hoping  to  be  sheltered 
there  from  the  multitude  of  my  assailants  ;  but 
ere  I  had  half-way  reached  the  place,  I  was  at- 
tacked on  all  sides,  several  endeavoring  to  over- 
set the  canoe.  My  situation  now  became  pre- 
carious to  the  last  degree  :  two  very  large  ones 
attacked  me  closely,  at  the  same  instant,  rushing 
up  with  their  heads  and  part  of  their  bodies  above 
the  water,  roaring  terribly  and  belching  floods  of 
water  over  me.  They  struck  their  jaws  together 
so  close  to  my  ears,  as  almost  to  stun  me,  and  I 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


289 


expected  every  moment  to  be  dragged  out  of  the 
boat  and  instantly  devoured.  But  I  applied  my 
weapons  so  effectually  about  me,  though  at  ran- 
dom, that  I  was  so  successful  as  to  beat  them  off  a 
little  ;  when  finding  that  they  designed  to  renew 
the  battle,  I  made  for  the  shore,  as  the  only  means 
left  me  for  rny  preservation  ;  for,  by  keeping  close 
to  it,  I  should  have  my  enemies  on  one  side  of  me 
only,  whereas  I  was  before  surrounded  by  them  ; 
and  there  was  a  probability,  if  pursued  to  the 
last  extremity,  of  saving  myself  by  jumping  out 
of  the  canoe  on  shore,  as  it  is  easy  to  outwalk 
them  on  land,  although  comparatively  as  swift  as 
lightning  in  the  water.  I  found  this  last  experi- 
ment alone  could  fully  answer  my  expectations, 
for  as  soon  as  I  gained  the  shore,  they  drew  off 
and  kept  aloof.  This  was  a  happy  relief,  as  my 
confidence  was,  in  some  degree,  recovered  by  it. 
On  recollecting  myself,  I  discovered  that  I  had 
almost  reached  the  entrance  of  the  lagoon,  and 
determined  to  venture  in,  if  possible,  to  take  a 
few  fish,  and  then  return  to  my  harbor,  while 
daylight  continued  ;  for  I  could  now  with  caution 
and  resolution,  make  my  way  with  safety  along 
shore  ;  and  indeed  there  was  no  other  way  to  re- 
gain my  camp,  without  leaving  my  boat  and 
making  my  retreat  through  the  marshes  and  reeds, 
which,  if  I  could  even  effect,  would  have  been  in 
a  manner  throwing  myself  away,  for  then  there 
would  have  been  no  hopes  of  ever  recovering  my 
bark,  and  returning  in  safety  to  any  settlement  of 
men.  I  accordingly  proceeded,  and  made  good 
my  entrance  into  the  lagoon,  though  not  without 
opposition  from  the  alligators,  who  formed  a  line 
across  the  entrance, but  did  not  pursue  me  into  it, 
nor  was  I  molested  by  any  there,  though  there 
were  some  very  large  ones  in  a  cove  at  the  upper 
end.  I  soon  caught  more  trout  than  I  had  present 
occasion  for,  and  the  air  was  too  hot  and  sultry 
to  admit  of  their  being  kept  for  many  hours,  even 
though  salted  or  barbecued.  I  now  prepared  for 
my  return  to  camp,  which  I  succeeded  in  with  but 
little  trouble,  by  keeping  close  to  the  shore  ;  yet 
I  was  opposed  upon  re-entering  the  river  out  of 
the  lagoon,  and  pursued  near  to  my  landing 
(though  not  closely  attacked),  particularly  by  an 
old  daring  one,  about  twelve  feet  in  length,  who 
kept  close  after  me  ;  and  when  I  stepped  on  shore 
and  turned  about,  in  order  to  draw  up  my  canoe, 
he  rushed  up  near  my  feet,  and  lay  there  for  some 
time,  looking  me  in  the  face,  his  head  and 
19 


shoulders  out  of  water.  I  resolved  he  should 
pa}7  for  his  temerity,  and  having  a  heavy  load  in 
my  fusee,  I  ran  to  my  camp,  and  returning  with 
my  piece,  found  him  with  his  foot  on  the  gunwale 
of  the  boat,  in  search  of  fish.  On  my  coming  up 
he  withdrew  sullenly  and  slowly  into  the  water, 
but  soon  returned  and  placed  himself  in  his  former 
position,  looking  at  me,  and  seeming  neither  fear- 
ful nor  any  way  disturbed.  I  soon  dispatched 
him  by  lodging  the  contents  of  my  gun  in  his 
head,  and  then  proceeded  to  cleanse  and  prepare 
my  fish  for  supper  :  and  accordingly  took  them 
out  of  the  boat,  laid  them  down  on  the  sand  close 
to  the  water,  and  began  to  scale  them  :  when, 
raising  my  head,  I  saw  before  me,  through  the 
clear  water,  the  head  and  shoulders  of  a  very 
large  alligator,  moving  slowly  towards  me.  I  in- 
stantly stepped  back,  when,  with  a  sweep  of  his 
tail,  he  brushed  off  several  of  my  fish.  It  was 
certainly  most  providential  that  I  looked  up  at 
that  instant,  as  the  monster  would  probably,  in 
less  than  a  minute,  have  seized  and  dragged  me 
into  the  river.  This  incredible  boldness  of  the 
animal  disturbed  me  greatly,  supposing  there 
could  now  be  no  reasonable  safety  for  me  during 
the  night,  but  by  keeping  constantly  on  the 
watch  ;  I  therefore,  as  soon  as  I  had  prepared 
the  fish,  proceeded  to  secure  myself  and  effects  in 
the  best  manner  I  could.  In  the  first  place,  I 
hauled  my  bark  upon  the  shore,  almost  clear  out 
of  the  water,  to  prevent  their  over-setting  or  sink- 
ing her  ;  after  this,  every  movable  was  taken  out 
and  carried  to  my  camp,  which  was  but  a  few 
yards  off ;  then  ranging  some  dry  wood  in  such 
order  as  was  the  most  convenient,  I  cleared  the 
ground  round  about  it,  that  there  might  be  no 
impediment  in  my  way,  in  case  of  an  attack  in 
the  night,  either  from  the  water  or  the  land  ;  for 
I  discovered  by  this  time,  that  this  small  isthmus, 
from  its  remote  situation  and  fruitfulness,  was  re- 
sorted to  by  bears  and  wolves.  Having  prepared 
myself  in  the  best  manner  I  could,  I  charged  my 
gun,  and  proceeded  to  reconnoitre  my  camp  and 
the  adjacent  grounds  ;  when  I  discovered  that  the 
peninsula  and  grove,  at  the  distance  of  about  two 
hundred  yards  from  my  encampment,  on  the  land 
side,  were  invested  by  a  ej^press  swamp,  covered 
with  water,  which  below  was  joined  to  the  shore 
of  the  little  lake,  and  above  to  the  marshes  sur- 
rounding the  lagoon  ;  so  that  I  was  confined  to 
an  island  exceedingly  circumscribed,  and  I  found 


290 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


there  was  no  other  retreat  for  me,  in  ease  of  an 
attack,  but  by  either  ascending  one  of  the  large 
oaks,  or  pushing  off  with  my  boat. 

It  was  by  this  time  dusk,  and  the  alligators  had 
nearly  ceased  their  roar,  when  I  was  again  alarmed 
by  a  tumultuous  noise  that  seemed  to  be  in  my 
harbor,  and  therefore  engaged  my  immediate  at- 
tention. Returning  to  my  camp,  I  found  it  undis- 
turbed, and  then  continued  on  to  the  extreme 
point  of  the  promontory,  where  I  saw  a  scene, 
new  and  surprising,  which  at  first  threw  my  senses 
into  such  a  tumult  that  it  was  some  time  before  I 
could  comprehend  what  was  the  matter  ;  however, 
I  soon  accounted  for  this  prodigious  assemblage 


ALLIGATORS   IN   THE   ST.   JOHN'S    RIVER. 

of  crocodiles  at  this  place,  which  exceeded  every- 
thing of  the  kind  I  had  ever  heard  of. 

How  shall  I  express  myself  so  as  to  convey  an 
adequate  idea  of  it  to  the  reader,  and  at  the  same 
time  avoid  raising  suspicions  of  my  veracity? 
Should  I  say  that  the  river  (in  this  place)  from 
shore  to  shore,  and  perhaps  near  half  a  mile  above 
aud  below  me,  appeared  to  be  one  solid  bank  of 
fish,  of  various  kinds,  pushing  through  this  nar- 
row pass  of  St.  John's  into  the  little  lake,  on  their 
return  down  the  river,  and  that  the  alligators  were 
in  such  incredible  numbers,  and. so  close  together 
from  shore  to  shore,  that  it  would  have  been  easy 
to  have  walked  across  on  their  heads,  had  the 
animals  been  harmless  !  What  expressions  can 
sufficiently  declare  the  shocking  scene   that  for 


some  minutes  continued,  while  this  might}-  army 
of  fish  were  forcing  the  pass  ?  During  this  at- 
tempt, thousands,  I  may  say  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands, of  them  were  caught  and  swallowed  by  the 
devouring  alligators.  I  have  seen  an  alligator 
take  up  out  of  the  water  several  great  fish  at  a 
time,  and  just  squeeze  them  betwixt  his  jaws, 
while  the  tails  of  the  great  trout  flapped  about  his 
eyes  and  lips,  ere  he  had  swallowed  them.  The 
horrid  noise  of  their  closing  jaws,  their  plunging 
amidst  the  broken  banks  of  fish,  and  rising  with 
their  prey  some  feet  upright  above  the  water,  the 
floods  of  water  and  blood  rushing  out  of  their 
mouths,  and  the  clouds  of  vapor  issuing  from  their 
wide  nostrils,  were  truly  frightful.  This 
scene  continued  at  intervals  during  the 
night,  as  the  fish  came  to  the  pass. 
After  this  sight,  shocking  and  tremen- 
dous as  it  was,  I  found  myself  some- 
what easier  and  more  reconciled  to  my 
situation  ;  being  convinced  that  their  ex- 
traordinary assemblage  here  was  owing 
to  this  annual  feast  of  fish,  and  that  they 
were  so  well  employed  in  their  own  ele- 
ment that  I  had  little  occasion  to  fear 
their  paying  me  a  visit. 

It  being  now  almost  night,  I  returned 
to  my  camp,  where  I  had  left  my  fish 
broiling,  and  my  kettle  of  rice  stewing  ; 
and  having  with  me  oil,  pepper,  and 
salt,  and  excellent  oranges  hanging  in 
abundance  over  my  head  (a  valuable  sub- 
stitute for  vinegar),  I  sat  down  and  re- 
galed myself  cheerfully.  Having  finished 
my  repast,  I  rekindled  my  fire  for  light, 
and  whilst  I  was  revising  the  notes  of  my  past 
day's  journey,  I  was  suddenly  roused  with  a 
noise  behind  me  toward  the  main  land.  I 
sprang  up  on  my  feet,  and  listening,  I  dis- 
tinctly heard  some  creature  wading  in  the  water 
of  the  isthmus.  I  seized  my  gun  and  went  cau- 
tiously from  my  camp,  directing  my  steps  towards 
the  noise.  When  I  had  advanced  about  thirty 
yards,  I  halted  behind  a  coppice  of  orange  trees, 
and  soon  perceived  two  very  large  bears,  which 
had  made  their  way  through  the  water,  and  had 
landed  in  the  grove,  about  one  hundred  yards' 
distance  from  me,  and  were  advancing  towards 
me.  I  waited  until  they  were  within  thirty  yards 
of  me  :  they  there  began  to  snuff  and  look  towards 
my  camp.     I  snapped  my  piece,  but  it  flashed,  on 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


291 


which  they  both  turned  about  and  galloped  off, 
plunging  through  the  water  and  swamp,  never 
halting,  as  I  suppose,  until  they  reached  fast  land, 
as  I  could  hear  them  leaping  and  plunging  a  long 
time.  "They  did  not  presume  to  return  again,  nor 
was  I  molested  by  any  other  creatures  except 
being  occasionally  awakened  by  the  whooping  of 
owls,  screaming  of  bitterns,  or  the  wood-rats 
running  amongst  the  leaves. 


CHARACTER  OF  WASHINGTON. 

BY   THOMAS   JEFFERSON. 

I  THINK  I  knew  General  Washington  intimately 
and  thoroughly  ;  and  were  I  called  on  to  deline- 
ate his  character,  it  should  be  in  terms  like 
these  : — 

His  mind  was  great  and  powerful,  without  be- 
ing of  the  very  first  order  ;  his  penetration  strong, 
though  not  so  acute  as  that  of  a  Newton,  Bacon, 
or  L,ocke  ;  and  as  far  as  he  saw,  no  judgment  was 
ever  sounder.  It  was  slow  in  operation,  being 
little  aided  by  invention  or  imagination,  but  sure 
in  conclusion.  Hence  the  common  remark  of  his 
officers,  of  the  advantage  he  derived  from  coun- 
cils of  war,  where,  hearing  all  suggestions,  he  se- 
lected the  best ;  and  certainly  no  general  ever 
planned  his  battles  mere  judiciously.  But  if  de- 
ranged during  the  course  of  the  action,  if  any 
member  of  his  plan  was  dislocated  by  sudden  cir- 
cumstance, he  was  slow  in  re-adjustment.  The 
consequence  was,  that  he  often  failed  in  the  field, 
and  rarely  against  an  enemy  in  station,  as  at  Bos- 
ton and  York,  He  was  incapable  of  fear,  meeting 
personal  dangers  with  the  calmes*-  unconcern. 
Perhaps  the  strongest  feature  in  his  character  was 
prudence,  never  acting  until  every  circumstance, 
•every  consideration  was  maturely  weighed  ;  re- 
fraining, if  he  saw  a  doubt ;  but,  when  once  de- 
cided, going  through  with  his  purpose,  whatever 
obstacles  opposed.  His  integrity  was  most  pure, 
his  justice  the  most  inflexible  I  have  ever  known  ; 
no  motives  of  interest  or  consanguinity,  of  friend- 
ship or  hatred,  being  able  to  bias  his  decisions. 
He  was,  indeed,  in  ever}'  sense  of  the  word,  a 
wise,  a  good,  and  a  great  man.  His  temper  was 
naturally  irritable  and  high-toned  ;  but  reflection 
and  resolution  had  obtained  a  firm  and  habitual 
ascendancy  over  it.  If  ever,  however,  it  broke  its 
bonds,  he  was  most  tremendous  in  his  wrath.  In 
his  expenses  he  was  honorable,  but  exact ;  liberal 


in  his  contributions  to  whatever  promised  utility; 
but  frowning  and  unyielding  on  all  visionary  pro- 
jects and  all  unworthy  calls  on  his  charity.  His 
heart  was  not  warm  in  its  affections  ;  but  he  ex- 
actly calculated  every  man's  value,  and  gave  him 
a  solid  esteem  proportioned  to  it.  His  person, 
you  know,  was  fine  ;  his  stature  exactly  what  one 
would  wish  ;  his  deportment  easy,  erect,  and  no- 
ble ;  the  best  horseman  of  his  age,  and  the  most 
graceful  figure  that  could  be  seen  on  horseback. 
Although  in  the  circle  of  his  friends,  where  he 
might  be  unreserved  with  safety,  he  took  a  free 
share  in  conversation,  his  colloquial  talents  were 
not  above  mediocrity,  possessing  neither  copious- 
ness of  ideas  nor  fluencj'  of  words.  In  public, 
when  called  on  for  a  sudden  opinion,  he  was  un- 
read}-, short,  and  embarrassed.  Yet  he  wrote 
readily,  rather  diffusely,  in  an  easy  and  correct 
style.  This  he  had  acquired  by  conversation 
with  the  world,  for  his  education  was  merely 
reading,  writing,  and  common  arithmetic,  to 
which  he  added  surveying,  at  a  later  day.  His 
time  was  employed  in  action  chiefly,  reading  lit- 
tle, and  that  only  on  agricultural  and  English  his- 
tory. His  correspondence  became  necessarily 
extensive  and,  with  journalizing  his  agricultural 
proceedings,  occupied  most  of  his  leisure  hours 
within  doors.  On  the  whole,  his  character  was  in  its 
mass,  perfect ;  in  nothing  bad,  in  few  points  in- 
different; and  it  may  truly  be  said,  that  never  did 
nature  and  fortune  combine  more  perfectly  to 
make  a  man  great,  and  to  place  him  in  the  same 
constellation  with  whatever  worthies  have  merit- 
ed from  man  an  everlasting  remembrance.  For 
his  was  the  singular  destiny  and  merit  of  leading 
the  armies  of  his  country  successfully  through  an 
arduous  war,  for  the  establishment  of  its  inde- 
pendence ;  of  conducting  its  councils  through  the 
birth  of  a  government,  new  in  its  forms  and  prin- 
ciples, until  it  had  settled  down  into  a  quiet  and 
orderly  train  ;  and  of  scrupulously  obeying  the 
laws  through  the  whole  of  his  career,  civil  and 
military,  of  which  the  history  of  the  world  fur- 
nishes no  other  example. 


JEFFERSON'S  RULES  OF  LIFE. 

i.  Never  put  off  till  to-morrow  what  you  can 

do  to-day, 
2.  Never  trouble  another  for  what  you  can  do 

yourself. 


292 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


3.  Never  spend  your  money  before  you  have  it. 

4.  Never  buy  what  you  do  not  want,  because 

it  is  cheap  ;  it  will  be  dear  to  you. 

5.  Pride  costs  us  more  than  hunger,  thirst,  and 

cold. 

6.  We  never  repent  of  having  eaten  too  little. 

7.  Nothing  is  troublesome  that  we  do  willingly. 

8.  How  much  pain  have  cost  us  the  evils  that 

have  never  happened 

9.  Take  things  always  by  their  smooth    han- 

dle. 
10.  When  angry,  count  ten  before  you  speak  ;  if 
very  angry,  an  hundred. 


INCIDENT   IN    THE    LIFE   OF   LINDLEY  MUR- 
RAY, THE  GRAMMARIAN. 

I  HAVE  sometimes  hesitated,  respecting  the  pro- 
priety of  communicating  this  little  piece  of 
my  history.  But  as  it  is  intimately  connected 
with  events  of  this  period,  and  contains  some 
traits  of  disposition  and  character  in  early  life,  I 
have  at  length  concluded  to  relinquish  my  scruples 
on  this  subject.  The  following  is  the  occurrence 
to  which  I  allude  : 

Though  my  father,  as  the  events  already  men- 
tioned demonstrate,  had  an  earnest  desire  to  pro- 
mote my  interest  arrd  happiness,  yet  he  appeared 
to  me,  in  some  respects,  and  on  some  occasions, 
rather  too  rigorous.  Among  other  regulations,  he 
had,  with  true  parental  prudence,  given  me  gen- 
eral directions  not  to  leave  the  house,  in  an  even- 
ing, without  previously  obtaining  his  approbation. 
I  believe  that  his  permission  was  generally  and 
readily  procured.  But  a  particular  instance  oc- 
curred, in  which,  on  account  of  his  absence,  I 
could  not  apply  to  him.  I  was  invited  by  an 
uncle  to  spend  the  evening  with  him  ;  and  trust- 
ing to  this  circumstance,  and  to  the  respectability 
of  my  company,  I  ventured  to  break  the  letter, 
though  I  thought  not  the  spirit,  of  the  injunction 
which  had  been  laid  upon  me.  The  next  morn- 
ing, I  was  taken  by  my  father  into  a  private  apart- 
ment, and  remonstrated  with  for  my  disobedience. 
In  vain  were  my  apologies.  Nothing  that  I  could 
offer  was  considered  as  an  extenuation  of  my 
having  broken  a  plain  and  positive  command.  In 
short,  I  received  a  very  severe  chastisement ;  and 
was  threatened  with  a  repetition  of  it,  for  even- 
similar  offence.  Being  a  lad  of  some  spirit,  I  felt 
very  indignant  at  such  treatment,  under  circum- 
stances which,  as  I  conceived,  admitted  of  so  much 


alleviation.  I  could  not  bear  it ;  I  resolved  to 
leave  my  father's  house,  and  seek  in  a  distant  coun- 
try, what  I  conceived  to  be  an  asylum,  or  a  better 
fortune.  Young  and  ardent,  I  did  not  want  con- 
fidence in  my  own  powers  :  and  I  presumed  that, 
with  health  and  strength,  which  I  possessed  in  a 
superior  degree,  I  could  support  myself,  and  make 
my  way  happily  through  life.  I  meditated  on  my 
plan  ;  and  came  to  the  resolution  of  taking  my 
books  and  all  my  property  with  me,  to  a  town  in 
the  interior  of  the  country,  where  I  had  understood 
there  was  an  excellent  seminary,  kept  by  a  man 
of  distinguished  talents  and  learning.  Here  I 
purposed  to  remain,  till  I  had  learned  the  French 
language,  which  I  thought  would  be  of  great  use 
to  me  ;  and  till  I  had  acquired  as  much  other  im- 
provements as  my  funds  would  admit.  With  this 
stock  of  knowledge,  I  presumed  that  I  should  set 
out  in  life  under  much  greater  advantages  than  I 
should  possess  by  entering  immediately  into  busi- 
ness, with  my  small  portion  of  property,  and  great 
inexperience.  I  was  then  about  fourteen  years  of 
age.  My  views  being  thus  arranged,  I  procured 
a  new  suit  of  clothes,  entirely  different  from  those 
which  I  had  been  accustomed  to  wear,  packed  up 
my  little  all  and  left  the  city,  without  exciting  any 
suspicion  of  my  design,  till  it  was  too  late  to  pre- 
vent its  accomplishment. 

In  a  short  time  I  arrived  at  the  place  of  destina- 
tion. I  settled  myself  immediately  as  a  boarder 
in  the  seminary-,  and  commenced  my  studies.  The 
prospect  which  I  entertained  was  so  luminous  and 
cheering,  that,  on  the  whole,  I  did  not  regret  the 
part  I  had  acted.  Past  recollections  and  future 
hopes  combined  to  animate  me.  The  chief  uneasi- 
ness which  I  felt  in  my  present  situation,  must 
have  arisen  from  the  reflection  of  having  lost  the 
society  and  attentions  of  a  most  affectionate 
mother,  and  of  having  occasioned  sorrow  to  her 
feeling  mind.  But  as  I  had  passed  the  Rubicon, 
and  believed  I  could  not  be  comfortable  at  home, 
I  contented  myself  with  the  thought,  that  the  pur- 
suit of  the  objects  before  me  was  better  calculated 
than  any  other,  to  produce  my  happiness.  In  this 
quiet  retreat,  I  had  as  much  enjoyment  as  my  cir- 
cumstances were  adapted  to  convey.  The  pleasure 
of  study,  and  the  glow  of  a  fond  imagination, 
brightened  the  scenes  around  me.  And  the  con- 
sciousness of  a  state  of  freedom  and  independence 
undoubtedly  contributed  to  augment  my  gratifica- 
tions, and  to  animate   my  youthful  heart.     But 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


293 


my  continuance  in  this  delightful  situation  was 
not  of  long  duration.  Circumstances  of  an  appa- 
rently trivial  nature  concurred  to  overturn  the 
visionary  fabric  I  had  formed,  and  to  bring  me 
again  to  the  paternal  roof. 

I  had  a  particular  friend,  a  youth  about  my 
own  age,  who  resided  at  Philadelphia.  I  wished 
to  pay  him  a  short  visit,  and  then  resume  my 
studies.  We  met  according  to  appointment,  at  an 
inn  on  the  road.  I  enjoyed  his  society,  and  com- 
municated to  him  my  situation  and  views.  But 
before  I  returned  to  my  retreat  an  occurrence  took 
place  which  occasioned  me  to  go  to  Philadelphia. 
When  I  was  about  to  leave  that  city,  as  I  passed 
through  one  of  the  streets,  I  met  a  gentleman  who 
had  some  time  before  dined  at  my  father's  house. 
He  expressed  great  pleasure  on  seeing  me  ;  and 
inquired  when  I  expected  to  leave  the  city.  I  told 
him  I  was  then  on  the  point  of  setting  off.  He 
thought  the  occasion  very  fortunate  for  him.  He 
had  just  been  with  a  letter  to  the  post  office  ;  but 
found  that  he  was  too  late.  The  letter,  he  said, 
was  of  importance  ;  and  he  begged  that  I  would 
deliver  it  with  my  own  hand,  and  as  soon  as  I  ar- 
rived at  New  York,  to  the  person  for  whom  it  was 
directed.  Surprised  by  the  request,  and  unwilling 
to  state  to  him  my  situation,  I  engaged  to  take 
good  care  of  the  letter. 

My  new  residence  was  at  Burlington,  about 
twenty  miles  from  Philadelphia.  I  travelled  to- 
wards it  rather  pensive,  and  uncertain  what 
plan  to  adopt  respecting  the  letter.  I  believe 
that  I  sometimes  thought  of  putting  it  into  the 
post  office  ;  sometimes,  of  hiring  a  person  to 
deliver  it.  But  the  confidence  which  had  been 
reposed  in  me  ;  the  importance  of  the  trust ;  and 
my  tacit  engagement  to  deliver  it  personally; 
operated  so  powerfully  on  my  mind,  that  after  I 
had  ridden  a  few  miles,  I  determined,  whatever 
risk  and  expense  I  might  incur,  to  hire  a  carriage 
for  the  purpose,  to  go  to  New  York  as  speedily  as 
possible,  deliver  the  letter,  and  return  immediately. 
My  design,  so  far  as  it  respected  the  charge  of  the 
letter,  was  completely  accomplished.  I  delivered 
it,  according  to  the  direction,  and  my  own  en- 
gagement. I  was,  however,  obliged  to  remain  in 
New  York  that  night,  as  the  packet-boat,  in  which 
I  had  crossed  the  bay,  could  not  sail  till  next 
morning.  This  was  a  mortifying  circumstance, 
as  I  wished  to  return  very  expeditiously.  The 
delay  was,  however,  unavoidable.     I  put  up  at  an 


inn,  near  the  wharf  from  which  the  packet  was 
to  sail  in  the  morning,  and  waited  for  that  period 
with  some  anxiety. 

I  thought  I  had  conducted  my  business  with  so 
much  caution,  that  no  one  acquainted  with  me  had 
known  of  my  being  in  the  city.  I  had,  however, 
been  noticed  by  some  person  who  knew  me  ;  and, 
in  the  evening,  to  my  great  surprise,  my  uncle, 
whom  I  have  mentioned  before,  paid  me  a  visit. 
He  treated  me  affectionately,  and  with  much  pru- 
dent attention  ;  and,  after  some  time,  strenuously 
urged  me  to  go  with  him  to  my  father's  house ; 
but  I  firmly  refused  to  comply  with  his  request. 
At  length  he  told  me,  that  my  mother  was  greatly 
distressed  on  account  of  my  absence  ;  and  that  I 
should  be  unkind  and  undutiful,  if  I  did  not  see 
her.  This  made  a  strong  impression  upon  me.  I 
resolved,  therefore,  to  spend  a  short  time  with  her, 
and  then  return  to  my  lodgings.  The  meeting 
which  I  had  with  my  dear  and  tender  parent  was 
truly  affecting  to  me.  Everything  that  passed, 
evinced  the  great  affection  she  had  for  me,  and  the 
sorrow  into  which  my  departure  from  home  had 
plunged  her.  After  I  had  been  some  time  at  the 
house,  my  father  unexpectedly  came  in  ;  and  my 
embarrassment,  under  these  circumstances,  may 
easily  be  conceived.  It  was,  however,  instantly 
removed,  by  his  approaching  me  in  the  most  af- 
fectionate manner.  He  saluted  me  very  tenderly  ; 
and  expressed  great  satisfaction  on  seeing  me 
again.  Every  degree  of  resentment  was  imme- 
diately dissipated.  I  felt  myself  happy,  in  per- 
ceiving the  pleasure  which  my  society  could  afford 
to  persons  intimately  connected  with  me,  and  to 
whom  I  was  so  much  indebted.  We  spent  the 
evening  together  in  love  and  harmony  ;  and  I 
abandoned  entirely,  without  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, the  idea  of  leaving  a  house  and  family, 
which  were  now  dearer  to  me  than  ever. 


NELSON'S  GREAT  VICTORY    AT    TRAFALGAR. 

FRUSTRATED  as  his  own  hopes  had  been, 
Nelson  had  yet  the  high  satisfaction  of 
knowing  that  his  judgment  had  never  been  more 
conspicuously  approved,  and  that  he  had  rendered 
essential  service  to  his  country  by  driving  the 
enemy  from  those  islands,  where  they  expected 
there  could  be  no  force  capable  of  opposing  them. 
The  West  India  merchants  in  London,  as  men 
whose  interests  were  more  immediately  benefited, 
appointed  a  deputation  to  express   their  thanks 


294 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


for  his  great  and  judicious  exertions.  It  was  now 
his  intention  to  rest  awhile  from  his  labors,  and 
recruit  himself,  after  all  his  fatigues  and  cares,  in 
the  society  of  those  whom  he  loved.  All  his  stores 
were  brought  up  from  the  Victory ;  and  he 
found  in  his  house  at  Merton  the  enjoyment 
which  he  had  anticipated.  Many  days  had  not 
elapsed  before  Captain  Blackwood,  on  his  way  to 
London  with  despatches,  called  on  him  at  five  in 
the  morning.  Xelson,  who  was  already  dressed, 
exclaimed,  the  moment  he  saw  him  :  "I  am  sure 
you  bring  me  news  of  the  French  and  Spanish 
fleets  !  I  think  I  shall  yet  have  to  beat  them  !" 
They  had  refitted  at  Vigo,  after  the  indecisive 
action  with  Sir  Robert  Calder  ;  then  proceeded  to 
Ferrol,  brought  out  the  squadron  from  thence, 
and  with  it  entered  Cadiz  in  safety.  "  Depend  on 
it,  Blackwood,"  he  repeatedly  said,  "  I  shall  yet 
give  M.  Villeneuve  a  drubbing."  But,  when 
Blackwood  had  left  him,  he  wanted  resolution  to 
declare  his  wishes  to  Lad}-  Hamilton  and  his 
sisters,  and  endeavored  to  drive  away  the 
thought.  "  He  had  done  enough,"  he  said  ;  "let 
the  man  trudge  it  who  has  lost  his  budget ! ' '  His 
countenance  belied  his  lips  ;  and  as  he  was  pacing 
one  of  the  walks  in  the  garden,  which  he  used  to 
call  the  quarter-deck,  Lady  Hamilton  came  up  to 
him,  and  told  him  she  saw  he  was  uneasy.  He 
smiled,  and  said  :  "  Xo,  he  was  as  happy  as  pos- 
sible, he  was  surrounded  by  his  family,  his  health 
was  better  since  he  had  been  on  shore,  and  he- 
would  not  give  sixpence  to  call  the  king  his 
uncle."  She  replied,  that  she  did  not  believe 
him, — that  she  knew  he  was  longing  to  get  at  the 
combined  fleets, — that  he  considered  them  as  his 
own  property, — that  he  would  be  miserable  if  any 
man  but  himself  did  the  business  ;  and  that  he 
ought  to  have  them,  as  the  price  and  reward  of 
his  two  years  long  watching,  and  his  hard  chase. 
"Nelson,"  said  she,  "however  we  may  lament 
your  absence,  offer  your  services  ; — they  will  be 
accepted,  and  you  will  gain  a  quiet  heart  by  it : 
you  will  have  a  glorious  victor}',  and  then  you 
may  return  here  and  be  happy. ' '  He  looked  at 
her  with  tears  in  his  eyes — "Brave  Emma! — 
Good  Emma  ! — If  there  were  more  Emmas;  there 
would  be  more  Nelsons." 

His  services  were  as  willingly  accepted  as  they 
were  offered  ;  and  Lord  Barham,  giving  him  the 
list  of  the  navy,  desired  him  to  choose  his  own 
officers.       "  Choose  vourself,   my  lord,"  was  his 


reply  :  ' '  the  same  spirit  actuates  the  whole  pro- 
fession :  you  cannot  choose  wrong. ' '  Lord  Bar- 
ham  then  desired  him  to  say  what  ships,  and  how 
many,  he  would  wish,  in  addition  to  the  fleet 
which  he  was  going  to  command,  and  said  they 
should  follow  him  as  soon  as  each  was  ready.  No 
appointment  was  ever  more  in  unison  with  the 
feelings  and  judgment  of  the  whole  nation.  They, 
like  Lady  Hamilton,  thought  that  the  destruction 
of  the  combined  fleets  ought  properly  to  be 
Nelson's  work  :  that  he  ought  to  reap  the  spoils 
of  the  chase,  which  he  had  watched  so  long,  and 
so  perseveringly  pursued. 

Unremitting  exertions  were  made  to  equip  the 
ships  which  he  had  chosen,  and  especially  to  refit 
the  Victory,  which  was  once  more  to  bear  his 
flag.  Before  he  left  London  he  called  at  his  up- 
holsterer's, where  the  coffin,  which  Captain  Hal- 
lowell  had  given  him,  was  deposited  ;  and  desired 
that  his  history  might  be  engraven  upon  the  lid, 
saying  that  it  was  highly  probable  that  he  miglu. 
want  it  on  his  return.  He  seemed,  indeed,  to 
have  been  impressed  with  an  expectation  that  he 
should  fall  in  the  battle.  In  a  letter  to  his  bro- 
ther, written  immediately  after  his  return,  he  had 
said  :  "We  must  not  talk  of  Sir  Robert  Calder' s 
battle — I  might  not  have  done  so  much  with  my 
small  force.  If  I  had  fallen  in  with  them,  you 
might  probably  have  been  a  lord  before  I  wished  ; 
for  I  know  they  meant  to  make  a  dead  set  at  the 
Victory.  Nelson  had  once  regarded  the  pros- 
pect of  death  with  gloomy  satisfaction  ;  it  wras 
when  he  anticipated  the  upbraidings  of  his  wife, 
and  the  displeasure  of  his  venerable  father.  The 
state  of  his  feelings  new  was  expressed,  in  his 
private  journal,  in  these  words  : — "  Friday  night 
(Sept  13),  at  half-past  ten,  I  drove  from  dear, 
dear  Merton,  where  I  left  all  which  I  hold  dear 
in  this  world,  to  go  to  serve  my  king  and  country. 
May  the  great  God,  whom  I  adore,  enable  me  to 
fulfil  the  expectations  of  my  country  !  and,  if  it 
is  His  good  pleasure  that  I  should  return,  my 
thanks  will  never  cease  being  offered  up  to  the 
throne  of  His  mercy.  If  it  is  His  good  provi- 
dence to  cut  short  my  days  upon  earth,  I  bow 
with  the  greatest  submission  ;  relying  that  He 
will  protect  those  so  dear  to  me,  whom  I  may 
leave  behind  !  His  will  be  done  !  Amen  !  Amen  ! 
Amen  ! ' ' 

Early    on   the   following   morning  he    reachet 
Portsmouth;  and,  having  despatched  his  busine? 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


295 


on  shore,  endeavored  to  elude  the  populace  by 
taking  a  bye-way  to  the  beach;  but  a  crowd  col- 
lected in  his  train,  pressing  forward  to  obtain  a 
sight  of  his  face — many  were  in  tears,  and  many 
knelt  down  before  him,  and  blessed  him  as  he 
passed.  England  has  had  many  heroes,  but  never 
one  who  so  entirely  possessed  the  love  of  his  fel- 
low-countrymen as  Nelson.  All  men  knew  that 
his  heart  was  as  humane  as  it  was  fearless;  that 
there  was  not  in  his  nature  the  slightest  alloy  of 
selfishness  or  cupidity;  but  that,  with  perfect  and 
entire  devotion,  he  served  his  country  with  all  his 
heart,  and  with  all  his  soul,  and  with  all  his 
strength  ;  and,  therefore,  they  loved  him  as  truly 
and  as  fervently  as  he  loved  England.  They 
pressed  upon  the  parapet  to  gaze  after  him  when 
his  barge  pushed  off,  and  he  was  returning  their 
cheers  by  waving  his  hat.  The  sentinels,  who 
endeavored  to  prevent  them  from  trespassing  upon 
this  ground,  were  wedged  among  the  crowd;  and 
an  officer,  who,  not  very  prudently  upon  such  an 
occasion,  ordered  them  to  drive  the  people  down 
with  their  bayonets,  was  compelled  speedily  to  re- 
treat, for  the  people  would  not  be  debarred  from 
gazing,  till  the  last  moment,  upon  the  hero,  the 
darling  hero  of  England. 

He  arrived  off  Cadiz  on  the  29th  of  September, 
— his  birthday.  Fearing  that,  if  the  enemy  knew 
his  force,  they  might  be  deterred  from  venturing 
to  sea,  he  kept  out  of  sight  of  land,  desired  Col- 
lingwood  to  fire  no  salute  and  hoist  no  colors; 
and  wrote  to  Gibraltar,  to  request  that  the  force  of 
the  fleet  might  not  be  inserted  there  in  the 
"Gazette."  His  reception  in  the  Mediterranean 
fleet  was  as  gratifying  as  the  farewell  of  his  coun- 
trymen at  Portsmouth:  the  officers,  who  came  on 
board  to  welcome  him,  forgot  his  rank  as  com- 
mander, in  their  joy  at  seeing  him  again.  On  the 
day  of  his  arrival,  Villeneuve  received  orders  to 
pnt  to  sea  the  first  opportunity.  Villeneuve,  how- 
ever, hesitated  when  he  heard  that  Nelson  had 
resumed  the  command.  He  called  a  council  of 
war;  and  their  determination  was,  that  it  would 
not  be  expedient  to  leave  Cadiz,  unless  they  had 
reason  to  believe  themselves  stronger  by  one- 
third  than  the  British  force.  In  the  public  meas- 
ures of  England  secrecy  is  seldom  practicable,  and 
seldom  attempted  ;  here,  however,  bj'  the  precau- 
tion of  Nelson  and  the  wise  measures  of  the  Ad- 
miralty, the  enemy  were  for  once  kept  in  ignor- 
ance ;  for,   as  the  ships  appointed  to  reinforce  the 


Mediterranean  fleet  were  dispatched  singly — each 
as  soon  as  it  was  ready — their  collected  number 
was  not  stated  in  the  newspapers,  and  their  ar- 
rival was  not  known  to  the  enemy.  But  the  en- 
emy knew  that  Admiral  Eewis,  with  six  sail,  had 
been  detached  for  stores  and  water  to  Gibraltar. 
Accident  also  contributed  to  make  the  French 
admiral  doubt  whether  Nelson  himself  had  actu- 
ally taken  the  command.  An  American  lately, 
arrived  from  England  maintained  that  it  was 
impossible,  for  he  had  seen  him  only  a  few  days 
before  in  London,  and  at  that  time  there  was  no 
rumor  of  his  going  again  to  sea. 

The  station  which  Nelson  had  chosen  was  some 
fifty  or  sixty  miles  to  the  west  of  Cadiz,  near  Cape 
St.  Mary's.  At  this  distance  he  hoped  to  decoy 
the  enemy  out,  while  he  guarded  against  the  dan- 
ger of  being  caught  with  a  westerly  wind  near 
Cadiz,  and  driven  within  the  Straits.  The  block- 
ade of  the  port  was  rigorously  enforced  ;  in  hopes 
that  the  combined  fleet  might  be  forced  to  sea  by 
want.  The  Danish  vessels,  therefore,  which 
were  carrying  provisions  from  the  French  ports  in 
the  bay,  under  the  name  of  Danish  property,  to 
all  the  little  ports  from  Ayamonte  to  Algeziras, 
from  whence  they  were  conveyed  in  coasting 
boats  to  Cadiz,  were  seized.  Without  this  proper 
exertion  of  power,  the  blockade  would  have  been 
rendered  nugatory,  by  the  advantage  thus  taken 
of  the  neutral  flag.  The  supplies  from  France 
were  thus  effectually  cut  off.  There  was  now 
every  indication  that  the  enemy  would  speedily 
venture  out  ;  officers  and  men  were  in  the  high- 
est spirits  at  the  prospect  of  giving  them  a  deci- 
sive blow,  such,  indeed,  as  would  put  an  end  to  all 
further  contest  upon  the  seas.  Theatrical  amuse- 
ments were  performed  every  evening  in  most  of 
the  ships,  and  "God  Save  the  King"  was  the 
hymn  with  which  the  sports  concluded.  ' '  I 
verily  believe,"  says  Nelson  (writing  on  the  6th 
of  October),  "that  the  country  will  be  put  to 
some  expense  on  my  account  ;  either  a  monument, 
or  a  new  pension  and  honors  ;  for  I  have  not  the 
smallest  doubt  but  that  a  very  few  days,  almost 
hours,  will  put  us  in  battle.  The  success  no 
man  can  ensure  ;  but  for  fighting  them,  if  they 
can  be  got  at,  I  pledge  myself.  The  sooner  the 
better  :  I  don't  like  to  have  these  things  upon  my 
mind." 

At  this  time  he  was  not  without  some  cause  of 
anxiety  :  he  was  in  want  of  frigates, — the  eyes  of 


29(3 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


the  fleet  as  he  always  called  them  : — to  the  want 
of  which,  the  enemy  before  were  indebted  for 
their  escape,  and  Bonaparte  for  his  arrival  in 
Egypt.  He  'iad  only  twenty-three  ships — others 
were  on  the  \  'ay — but  might  come  too  late  ;  and, 
though  Nelson  never  doubted  of  victory,  mere 
victory  was  not  what  he  looked  to,  he  wanted  to 
annihilate  the  enemy's  fleet. 

On  the  9th  Nelson  sent  Collingwood  what  he 
called,  in  his  diary,  the  Nelson-touch.  "I  send 
you,"  said  he,  "my  plan  of  attack,  as  far  as  a 
man  dare  venture  to  guess  at  the  very  uncertain 
position  the  enemy  may  be  found  in  :  but  it  is  to 
place  you  perfectly  at  ease  respecting  my  inten- 
tions, and  to  give  full  scope  to  your  judgment 
for  carrying  them  into  effect.  We  can,  my  dear 
Coll,  have  no  little  jealousies.  We  have  only  one 
great  object  in  view,  that  of  annihilating  our  ene- 
mies, and  getting  a  glorious  peace  far  our  country. 
No  man  has  more  confidence  in  another  than  I 
have  in  you  ;  and  no  man  will  render  your  ser- 
vices more  justice  than  your  very  old  friend  Nel- 
son and  Bronte."  The  order  of  sailing  was  to  be 
the  order  of  battle  :  the  fleet  in  two  lines,  with  an 
advanced  squadron  of  eight  of  the  fastest  sailing 
two-deckers.  The  second  in  command  having 
the  entire  direction  of  his  line,  was  to  break 
through  the  enemy,  about  the  twelfth  ship  from 
their  rear  :  he  would  lead  through  the  centre,  and 
the  advanced  squadron  was  to  cut  off  three  or  four 
ahead  of  the  centre.  This  plan  was  to  be  adapted 
to  the  strength  of  the  enemy,  so  that  they  should 
always  be  one-fourth  superior  to  those  whom  they 
cut  off.  Nelson  said,  ' '  That  his  admirals  and 
captains,  knowing  his  precise  object  to  be  that  of 
a  close  and  decisive  action,  would  supply  any  de- 
ficiency of  signals,  and  act  accordingly.  In  case 
signals  cannot  be  seen  or  clearly  understood,  no 
captain  can  do  wrong  if  he  places  his  ship  along- 
side that  of  an  enemy."  One  of  the  last  orders  of 
this  admirable  man  was,  that  the  name  and  fam- 
ily of  every  officer,  seaman  and  marine,  who 
might  be  killed  or  wounded  in  action,  should  be, 
as  soon  as  possible,  returned  to  him,  in  order  to 
be  transmitted  to  the  chairman  of  the  Patriotic 
Fund,  that  the  case  might  be  taken  into  consider- 
ation, for  the  benefit  of  the  sufferer  or  his  family. 

About  half-past  nine  in  the  morning  of  the  19th, 
the  Mars,  being  the  nearest  to  the  fleet  of  the 
ships  which  formed  the  line  of  communication 
with  the  frigates  in  shore,  repeated  the  signal  that 


the  enemy  were  coming  out  of  port.  The  wind 
was  at  this  time  very  high,  with  partial  breezes, 
mostly  from  the  S.  S.  W.  Nelson  ordered  the 
signal  to  be  made  for  a  chase  in  the  south-east 
quarter.  About  two,  the  repeating  ships  announced 
that  the  enemy  were  at  sea.  All  night  the  British 
fleet  continued  under  all  sail,  steering  to  the  south- 
east. At  daybreak  they  were  in  the  entrance  of 
the  Straits,  but  the  enemy  were  not  in  sight. 
About  seven,  one  of  the  frigates  made  signal  that 
the  enemy  were  bearing  north.  Upon  this  the 
Victory  hove  to  ;  and  shortly  afterwards 
Nelson  made  sail  again  to  the  northward.  In  the 
afternoon  the  wind  blew  fresh  from  the  south- 
west, and  the  English  began  to  fear  that  the  foe 
might  be  forced  to  return  to  port.  A  little  before 
sunset,  however,  Blackwood,  in  the  Euryalus, 
telegraphed  that  they  appeared  determined  to  go 
to  the  westward, — "And  that,"  said  the  admiral 
in  his  diary,  "they  shall  not  do,  if  it  is  in  the 
power  of  Nelson  and  Bronte  to  prevent  them." 
Nelson  had  signified  to  Blackwood  that  he  de- 
pended upon  him  to  keep  sight  of  the  enemy. 
They  were  observed  so  well,  that  all  their  motions 
were  made  known  to  him  ;  and,  as  they  wore 
twice,  he  inferred  that  they  were  aiming  to  keep 
the  port  of  Cadiz  open,  and  would  retreat  there 
as  soon  as  they  saw  the  British  fleet :  for  this 
reason  he  was  very  careful  not  to  approach  near 
enough  to  be  seen  by  them  during  the  night.  At 
daybreak  the  combined  fleets  were  distinctly  seen 
from  the  Victory ' s  deck,  formed  in  a  close  line  of 
battle  ahead,  on  the  starboard  tack,  about  twelve 
miles  to  leeward,  and  standing  to  the  south.  The 
British  fleet  consisted  of  twenty-seven  sail  of  the 
line  and  four  frigates  ;  the  French  and  Spanish  of 
thirty-three,  and  seven  large  frigates.  Their 
superiority  was  greater  in  size,  and  weight  of 
metal,  than  in  numbers.  They  had  four  thousand 
troops  on  board  ;  and  the  best  riflemen  who  could 
be  procured,  man}-  of  them  Tyrolese,  were  dis- 
persed through  the  ships. 

Soon  after  daylight  Nelson  came  upon  deck. 
The  21st  of  October  was  a  festival  in  his  family  ; 
because  on  that  day  his  uncle,  Captain  Suckling, 
in  the  Dreadnough,  with  two  other  line  of 
battle  ships,  had  beaten  off  a  French  squadron  of 
four  sail  of  the  line  and  three  frigates.  Nelson, 
with  that  sort  of  superstition  from  which  few  per- 
sons are  entirely  exempt,  had  more  than  once 
expressed  his  persuasion  that  this  was  to  be  the 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


297 


day  of  his  battle  also  ;  and  he  was  well  pleased  at 
seeing  his  prediction  about  to  be  verified.  The 
wind  was  now  from  the  west,- — light  breezes,  with 
a  long  heavy  swell.  Signal  was  made  to  bear 
down  upon  the  enemy  in  two  lines  ;  and  the  fleet 
set  all  sail.  Collingwood,  in  the  Royal  Sover- 
eign, led  the  lee  line  of  thirteen  ships ;  the 
Victory  led  the  weather  line  of  fourteen.  Hav- 
ing seen  that  all  was  as  it  should  be,  Nelson 
retired  to  his  cabin,  and  wrote  this  paper  : — 

' ' '  May  the  Great  God,  whom  I  worship,  grant 
to  my  country,  and  for  the  benefit  of  Europe  in 
general,  a  great  and  glorious  victory ;  and  may 
no  misconduct  in  any  one  tarnish  it ;  and  may 
humanity  after  victory  be  the  predominant  fea- 
ture in  the  British  fleet !  For  myself  individually, 
I  commit  my  life  to  Him  that  made  me,  and  may 
His  blessing  alight  on  my  endeavors  for  serving 
my  country  faithfully !  To  Him  I  resign  myself, 
and  the  just  cause  which  is  entrusted  to  me  to 
defend.     Amen,  Amen,  Amen." 

Having  thus  discharged  his  devotional  duties, 
he  annexed,  in  the  same  diary,  the  following  re- 
markable writing : — 
"October  2  ist,  1805. — Then  in  sight  of  the  combined 

fleets  of  France  and  Spain,    distant    about   ten 

miles. 

Whereas,  the  eminent  services  of  Emma  Ham- 
ilton, widow  of  the  Right  Honorable  Sir  William 
Hamilton,  have  been  of  the  very  greatest  service 
to  my  king  and  country,  to  my  knowledge,  with- 
out ever  receiving  any  reward  from  either  our 
king  or  country : 

"First,  that  she  obtained  the  King  of  Spain's 
letter,  in  1796,  to  his  brother,  the  King  of  Naples, 
acquainting  him  with  his  intention  to  declare  war 
against  England  :  from  which  letter  the  ministry 
sent  out  orders  to  the  then  Sir  John  Jervis  to 
strike  a  stroke,  if  opportunity  offered,  against 
either  the  arsenals  of  Spain  or  her  fleets.  That 
neither  of  these  was  done  is  not  the  fault  of  Lady 
Hamilton  ;  the  opportunity  might  have  been  of- 
fered. 

' '  Secondly  :  The  British  fleet  under  my  com- 
mand could  never  have  returned  the  second  time 
to  Egypt,  had  not  Lady  Hamilton's  influence 
with  the  Queen  of  Naples  caused  letters  to  be 
wrote  to  the  governor  of  Syracuse,  that  he  was 
to  encourage  the  fleet's  being  supplied  with  every- 
thing, should  they  put  into  any  port  in  Sicily. 
We  put  into  Syracuse,  and  received  every  sup- 


ply ;  went  to  Egypt,  and  destroyed  the  French 
fleet. 

Could  I  have  rewarded  these  services,  I  would 
not  now  call  upon  my  country ;  but  as  that  has 
not  been  in  my  power,  I  leave  Emma  Lady  Ham- 
ilton, therefore,  a  legacy  to  my  king  and  country, 
that  they  will  give  her  an  ample  provision  to 
maintain  her  rank  in  life. 

' '  I  also  leave  to  the  beneficence  of  my  country 
my  adopted  daughter,  Horatia  Nelson  Thomp- 
son ;  and  I  desire  she  will  use  in  future  the  name 
of  Nelson  only. 

"These  are  the  only  favors  I  ask  of  my  king 
and  country,  at  this  moment  when  I  am  going  to 
fight  their  battle.  May  God  bless  my  king  and 
country,  and  all  those  I  hold  dear  !  My  relations 
it  is  needless  to  mention  :  they  will,  of  course,  be 
amply  provided  for. 

"Nelson  and  Bronte." 

"  Witness     \  Henry  Blackwood- 
tT.  M.  Hardy." 

The  child,  of  whom  this  writing  speaks,  was 
believed  to  be  his  daughter,  and  so,  indeed,  he 
called  her  the  last  time  that  he  pronounced  her 
name.  She  was  then  about  five  years  old,  living 
at  Merton,  under  Lady  Hamilton's  care.  The 
last  minutes  which  Nelson  passed  at  Merton  were 
employed  in  praying  over  this  child  as  she  lay 
sleeping.  A  portrait  of  Lady  Hamilton  hung  in  his 
cabin  ;  and  no  Catholic  ever  beheld  the  picture  of 
his  patron  saint  with  devouter  reverence.  The 
undisguised  and  romantic  passion  with  which  he 
regarded  it  amounted  almost  to  superstition  ;  and 
when  the  portrait  was  now  taken  down,  in  clear- 
ing for  action,  he  desired  the  men  who  removed  it 
to  "take  care  of  his  guardian  angel."  In  this 
manner  he  frequently  spoke  of  it  as  if  he  believed 
there  were  a  virtue  in  the  image.  He  wore  a  min- 
iature of  her  next  his  heart.  Blackwood  went  on 
board  the  "  Victory"  about  six.  He  found  him 
in  good  spirits,  but  very  calm  ;  not  in  that  exhila- 
ration which  he  had  felt  upon  entering  into  battle 
at  Aboukir  and  Copenhagen  ;  he  knew  that  his 
own  life  would  be  particularly  aimed  at,  and  seems 
to  have  looked  for  death  with  almost  as  sure  an 
expectation  as  for  victory.  His  whole  attention 
was  fixed  upon  the  enemy.  They  tacked  to  the 
northward,  and  formed  their  line  on  the  larboard 
tack  ;  thus  bringing  the  shoals  of  Trafalgar  and 
St.  Pedro  under  the  lee  of  the  British,  and  keep- 
ing the  port  of  Cadiz  open  for  themselves.     This 


298 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


was  judiciously  done  :  and  Nelson,  aware  of  all 
the  advantages  which  it  gave  them,  made  signal 
to  prepare  to  anchor. 

Yilleneuve  was  a  skilful  seaman  ;  his  plan  of 
defence  was  as  well  conceived,  and  as  original,  as 
the  plan  of  attack.  He  formed  the  fleet  in  a 
double  line,  even-  alternate  ship  being  about  a 
cable's  length  to  windward  of  her  second  ahead 
and  astern.  Xelson,  certain  of  a  triumphant  issue 
to  the  da%-,  asked  Blackwood  what  he  should  con- 
sider as  a  victory.  That  officer  answered,  that, 
considering  the  handsome  way  in  which  battle 
was  offered  by  the  enemy,  their  apparent  determi- 
nation for  a  fair  trial  of  strength,  and  the  situation 
of  the  land,  he  thought  it  would  be  a  glorious 
result  if  fourteen  were  captured.  He  replied  :  "  I 
shall  not  be  satisfied  with  less  than  twenty. ' '  Soon 
afterwards  he  asked  him  if  he  did  not  think  there 
was  a  signal  wanting.  Captain  Blackwood  made 
answer  that  he  thought  the  whole  fleet  seemed 
very  clearly  to  understand  what  they  were  about. 
These  words  were  scarcely  spoken  before  that  sig- 
nal was  made,  which  will  be  remembered  as  long 
as  the  language,  or  even  the  memory,  of  England 
shall  endure  ; — Nelson's  last  signal  : — "England 
expects  every  man  to  do  his  duty  .'  "  It  was  re- 
ceived throughout  the  fleet  with  a  shout  of  an- 
swering acclamation,  made  sublime  by  the  spirit 
which  it  breathed  and  the  feeling  which  it  ex- 
pressed. "  Xow,  "  said  Lord  Xelson,  "  I  can  do 
no  more.  We  must  trust  to  the  Great  Disposer 
of  all  events,  and  the  justice  of  our  cause.  I 
thank  God  for  this  great  opportunity  of  doing  my 
duty." 

He  wore  that  day,  as  usual,  his  admiral's  frock 
coat,  bearing  on  the  left  breast  four  stars  of  the 
different  orders  with  which  he  was  invested.  Or- 
naments which  rendered  him  so  conspicuous  a 
mark  for  the  enemy  were  beheld  with  ominous 
apprehensions  by  his  officers.  It  was  known  that 
there  were  riflemen  on  board  the  French  ships  ; 
and  it  could  not  be  doubted  but  that  his  life 
would  be  particularly  aimed  at.  They  communi- 
cated their  fears  to  each  other  ;  and  the  surgeon, 
Mr.  Beatty,  spoke  to  the  chaplain,  Dr.  Scott,  and 
to  Mr.  Scott,  the  public  secretary,  desiring  that 
some  person  would  entreat  him  to  change  his 
dress,  or  cover  the  stars  :  but  they  knew  that  such 
a  request  would  highly  displease  him.  "In 
honour  I  gained  them,"  he  had  said  when  such  a 
thins;  had  been  hinted  to  him  formerly,  "  and  in 


honour  I  will  die  with  them."  Mr.  Beatty,  how- 
ever, would  not  have  been  deterred  by  an}'  fear 
of  exciting  his  displeasure,  from  speaking  to  him 
himself  upon  a  subject,  in  which  the  weal  of  Eng- 
land as  well  as  the  life  of  Xelson  was  concerned, 
but  he  was  ordered  from  the  deck  before  he  could 
find  an  opportunity.  This  was  a  point  upon 
which  Xelson1  s  officers  knew  that  it  was  hopeless 
to  remonstrate  or  reason  with  him ;  but  both 
Blackwood,  and  his  own  captain,  Hardy,  repre- 
sented to  him  how  advantageous  to  the  fleet  it 
would  be  for  him  to  keep  out  of  action  as  long  as 
possible ;  and  he  consented  at  last  to  let  the 
Leviathan  and  the  Temerairc,  which  were  sailing 
abreast  of  the  Victory,  be  ordered  to  pass  ahead. 
Yet  even  here  the  last  infirmity  of  this  noble  mind 
was  indulged ;  for  these  ships  could  not  pass 
ahead  if  the  Victory  continued  to  cam-  all  her 
sail  ;  and  so  far  was  Xelson  from  shortening  sail, 
that  it  was  evident  he  took  pleasure  in  pressing 
on,  and  rendering  it  impossible  for  them  to  obey 
his  own  orders  A  long  swell  was  setting  into 
the  Bay  of  Cadiz  :  our  ships,  crowding  all  sail, 
moved  majestically  before  it,  with  light  winds 
from  the  south-west.  The  sun  shone  on  the  sails 
of  the  enemy  ;  and  their  well-formed  line,  with 
their  numerous  three-deckers,  made  an  appear- 
ance which  any  other  assailants  would  have 
thought  formidable  ;  but  the  British  sailors  only 
admired  the  beauty  and  the  splendor  of  the  spec- 
tacle ;  and,  in  full  confidence  of  winning  what 
they  saw,  remarked  to  each  other  what  a  fine 
sight  yonder  ships  would  make  at  Spithead  ! 

The  French  admiral,  from  the  Bncentaure,  be- 
held the  new  manner  in  which  his  enemy  was 
advancing,  Xelson  and  Collingwood  each  leading 
his  line  ;  and,  pointing  them  out  to  his  officers, 
he  is  said  to  have  exclaimed  that  such  conduct 
could  not  fail  to  be  successful.  Yet  Yilleneuve 
had  made  his  own  dispositions  with  the  utmost 
skill,  and  the  fleets  under  his  command  waited 
for  the  attack  with  perfect  coolness.  Ten  minutes 
before  twelve  they  opened  their  fire.  Eight  or 
nine  of  the  ships  immediately  ahead  of  the  I  'ictory, 
and  across  her  bows,  fired  single  guns  at  her,  to 
ascertain  whether  she  was  yet  within  their  range. 
As  soon  as  Xelson  perceived  that  their  shot  passed 
over  him,  he  desired  Blackwood,  and  Captain 
Prowse,  of  the  Sirius,  to  repair  to  their  respective 
frigates  ;  and,  on  their  way  to  tell  all  the  captains 
of  the  line  of  battle  ships  that  he  depended  on 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


299 


their  exertions ;  and  that,  if  by  the  prescribed 
mode  of  attack  they  found  it  impracticable  to  get 
into  action  immediately,  they  might  adopt  what- 
ever they  thought  best,  provided  it  led  them 
quickly  and  closely  alongside  an  enemy.  As  they 
were  standing  on  the  front  of  the  poop,  Blackwood 
took  him  by  the  hand,  saying,  he  hoped  soon  to 
return  and  find  him  in  possession  of  twenty  prizes. 
He  replied  :  "  God  bless  you,  Blackwood  :  I  shall 
never  see  you  again." 

Nelson's  column  was  steered  about  two  points 
more  to  the  north  than  Collingwood's,  in  order  to 
cut  off  the  enemy's  escape  into  Cadiz:  the  lee 
line,  therefore,  was  first  engaged.  "See,"  cried 
Nelson,  pointing  to  the  Royal  Sovereign,  as 
she  steered  right  for  the  centre  of  the  enemy's 
line,  cut  through  it  astern  of  the  Santa  Anna 
three  decker,  and  engaged  her  at  the  muzzle  of 
her  guns  on  the  starboard  side ;  see  how  that  no- 
ble fellow,  Collingwood,  carries  his  ship  into 
action!"  Collingwood,  delighted  at  being  first 
in  the  heat  of  the  fire,  and  knowing  the  feelings 
of  his  commander  and  old  friend,  turned  to  his 
captain,  and  exclaimed,  "  Rotherham,  what  would 
Nelson  give  to  be  here  !"  Both  these  brave  offi- 
cers, perhaps,  at  this  moment  thought  of  Nelson 
with  gratitude,  for  a  circumstance  which  had  oc- 
curred on  the  preceding  day.  Admiral  Colling- 
wood, with  some  of  the  captains,  having  gone 
on  board  the  Victory  to  receive  instructions, 
Nelson  inquired  of  him  where  his  captain  was  ? 
and  was  told,  in  reply,  that  they  were  not  upon 
good  terms  with  each  other.  "Terms!"  said 
Nelson; — good  terms  with  each  other!"  Imme- 
diatefy  he  sent  a  boat  for  Captain  Rotherham ; 
led  him,  as  soon  as  he  arrived,  to  Collingwood, 
and  saying,  "Look;  yonder  are  the  enemy!" 
bade  them  shake  hands  like  Englishmen. 

The  enemy  continued  to  fire  a  gun  at  a  time  at 
the  Victory,  till  they  saw  that  a  shot  had  passed 
through  her  main-topgallant-sail ;  then  they 
opened  their  broadsides,  aiming  chiefly  at  her 
rigging,  in  the  hope  of  disabling  her  before  she 
could  close  with  them.  Nelson,  as  usual,  had 
hoisted  several  flags,  lest  one  should  be  shot 
away.  The  enemy  showed  no  colors  till  late  in 
the  action,  when  they  began  to  feel  the  necessity 
of  having  them  to  strike.  For  this  reason,  the 
Santissima  Trinidad,  Nelson's  old  acquaintance, 
as  he  used  to  call  her,  was  distinguishable  onfy 
by  her   four  decks ;  and  to  the  bow  of  this  op- 


ponent he  ordered  the  Victory  to  be  steered. 
Meantime  an  incessant  raking  fire  was  kept  up 
upon  the  Victory.  The  admiral's  secretary-  was 
one  of  the  first  who  fell :  he  was  killed  by  a  can- 
non shot,  while  conversing  with  Hardy.  Captain 
Adair,  of  the  marines,  with  the  help  of  a  sailor, 
endeavored  to  remove  the  body  from  Nelson's 
sight,  who  had  a  great  regard  for  Mr.  Scott ;  but 
he  anxiously  asked,  "Is  that  poor  Scott  that's 
gone  ?"  and  being  informed  that  it  was  indeed  so, 
exclaimed,  "  Poor  fellow  !"  Presently  a  double- 
headed  shot  struck  a  party  of  marines,  who  were 
drawn  up  on  the  poop,  and  killed  eight  of  them : 
upon  which  Nelson  immediately  desired  Captain 
Adair  to  disperse  his  men  round  the  ship,  that 
they  might  not  suffer  so  much  from  being  to- 
gether. A  few  minutes  afterwards  a  shot  struck 
the  fore  brace  bits  on  the  quarter-deck,  and  passed 
between  Nelson  and  Hardy,  a  splinter  from  the 
bit  tearing  off  Hardy's  buckle  and  bruising  his 
foot.  Both  stopped,  and  looked  anxiously  at 
each  other,  each  supposing  the  other  to  be 
wounded.  Nelson  then  smiled,  and  said,  "  This 
is  too  warm  work,  Hardy,  to  last  long." 

The  Victory  had  not  yet  returned  a  single 
gun  :  fifty  of  her  men  had  been  by  this  time 
killed  or  wounded,  and  her  main-topmast,  with 
all  her  studding  sails  and  their  booms,  shot  away. 
Nelson  declared  that,  in  all  his  battles,  he  had 
seen  nothing  which  surpassed  the  cool  courage 
of  his  crew  on  this  occasion.  At  four  minutes 
after  twelve  she  opened  her  fire  from  both  sides 
of  her  deck.  It  was  not  possible  to  break  the 
enemy's  line  without  running  on  board  one  of 
their  ships :  Hardy  informed  him  of  this,  and 
asked  which  he  would  prefer.  Nelson  replied  : 
"  Take  your  choice,  Hardy,  it  does  not  signify 
much."  The  master  was  then  ordered  to  put  the 
helm  to  port,  and  Victory  ran  on  board  the 
Redoubtable,  just  as  her  tiller  ropes  were  shot 
away.  The  French  ship  received  her  with  a 
broadside  ;  then  instantly  let  down  her  lower 
deck  ports,  fos  fear  of  being  boarded  through 
them,  and  never  afterwards  fired  a  great  gun  dur- 
ing the  action.  Her  tops,  like  those  of  all  the 
enemy's  ships,  were  filled  with  riflemen.  Nelson 
never  placed  musketry  in  his  tops  ;  he  had  a 
strong  dislike  to  the  practice  ;  not  merely-  because 
it  endangers  setting  fire  to  the  sails,  but  also  be- 
cause it  is  a  murderous  sort  of  warfare,  by  which 
individuals  may  suffer,   and  a   commander,  now 


BOO 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


and  then,  be  picked  off,  but  which  never  can  de- 
cide the  fate  of  a  general  engagement. 

Captain  Harvey,  in  the  Temeraire  fell  on 
board  the  Redoubtable  on  the  other  side.  An- 
other enemy  was  in  like  manner  on  board  the 
Temeraire  :  so  that  these  four  ships  formed  as 
compact  a  tier  as  if  they  had  been  moored  toge- 
ther, their  heads  lying  all  the  same  way.  The 
lieutenants  of  the  1  'iciory,  seeing  this,  de- 
pressed their  guns  of  the  middle  and  lower  decks, 
and  fired  with  a  diminished  charge,  lest  the  shot 
should  pass  through,  and  injure  the  Temeraire. 
And  because  there  was  danger  that  the  Re- 
doubtable might  take  fire  from  the  lower-deck 
guns,  the  muzzles  of  which  touched  her  side 
when  the}-  were  run  out,  the  fireman  of  each  gun 
stood  ready  with  a  bucket  of  water,  which,  as 
soon  as  the  gun  was  discharged,  he  dashed  into 
the  hole  made  by  the  shot.  An  incessant  fire 
was  kept  up  from  the  Victory  from  both 
sides  ;  her  larboard  guns  playing  upon  the  Bu- 
.centaure     and    the    hugh     Santissima    Trinidad. 

It  had  been  part  of  Nelson's  prayer,  that  the 
British  fleet  might  be  distinguished  by  humanity 
in  the  victory  which  he  expected.  Setting  an  ex- 
ample himself,  he  twice  gave  orders  to  cease  firing 
upon  the  Redoubtable,  supposing  that  she  had 
struck,  because  her  great  guns  were  silent ;  for, 
as  she  carried  no  flag,  there  was  no  means  of  in- 
stantly ascertaining  the  fact.  From  this  ship, 
which  he  had  thus  twice  spared,  he  received  his 
death.  A  ball  fired  from  her  mizen-top,  which, 
in  the  then  situation  of  the  two  vessels,  was  not 
more  than  fifteen  yards  from  that  part  of  the  deck 
where  he  was  standing,  struck  the  epaulette  on 
his  left  shoulder,  about  a  quarter  after  one,  just 
in  the  heat  of  the  action.  He  fell  upon  his  face, 
on  the  spot  which  was  covered  with  his  poor  sec- 
retary's blood.  Hardy,  who  was  a  few  steps  from 
him,  turning  round,  saw  three  men  raising  him 
up.  "  They  have  done  for  me  at  last,  Hardy," 
said  he.  "  I  hope  not !  "  cried  Hardy.  "Yes," 
he  replied  ;  "  my  back  bone  is  shot  through," 
Vet  even  now,  not  for  a  moment  losing  his  pres- 
ence of  mind,  he  observed,  as  they  were  carrying 
him  down  the  ladder,  that  the  tiller  ropes,  which 
had  been  shot  away,  were  not  yet  replaced,  and 
ordered  that  new  ones  should  be  rove  immediately  : 
— then,  that  he  might  not  be  seen  by  the  crew, 
he  took  out  his  handkerchief,  and  covered  his 
face  and  his  stars.     Had  he  but  concealed  these 


badges  of  honor  from  the  enemy,  England,  per- 
haps, would  not  have  had  cause  to  receive  with 
sorrow  the  news  of  the  battle  of  Trafalgar. 

The  cockpit  was  crowded  with  wounded  and 
dying  men  ;  over  whose  bodies  he  was  with  some 
difficulty  conveyed,  and  laid  upon  a  pallet  in  the 
midshipmen's  berth.  It  was  soon  perceived,  upon 
examination,  that  the  wound  was  mortal.  This, 
however,  was  concealed  from  all,  except  Captain 
Hardy,  the  chaplain,  and  the  medical  attendants. 
He  himself  being  certain,  from  the  sensation  in 
his  back,  and  the  gush  of  blood  which  he  felt 
momently  within  his  breast,  that  no  human  care 
could  avail  him,  insisted  that  the  surgeon  should 
leave  him,  and  attend  to  those  to  whom  he  might 
be  useful :  "  For,"  said  he,  "  you  can  do  nothing 
for  me. ' '  All  that  could  be  done  was  to  fan  him  with 
paper,  and  frequently  to  give  him  lemonade,  to 
alleviate  his  intense  thirst.  He  was  in  great  pain, 
and  expressed  much  anxiety  for  the  event  of  the 
action,  which  now  began  to  declare  itself.  As 
often  as  a  ship  struck  the  crew  of  the  Victory  hur- 
raed ;  and  at  every  hurra  a  visible  expression  of 
joy  gleamed  in  the  eyes  and  marked  the  counte- 
nance of  the  dying  hero.  But  he  became  impa- 
tient to  see  Captain  Hardy ;  and  as  that  officer, 
though  often  sent  for,  could  not  leave  the  deck, 
Nelson  feared  that  some  fatal  cause  prevented 
him,  and  repeatedly  cried:  "Will  no  one  bring 
Hardy  to  me?  He  must  be  killed  !  He  is  surely 
dead!" — An  hour  and  ten  minutes  elapsed,  from 
the  time  when  Nelson  received  his  wound,  before 
Hardy  could  come  to  him.  They  shook  hands 
in  silence  ;  Hard}-  in  vain  struggling  to  suppress 
the  feelings  of  that  most  painful,  and  yet  sub- 
limest  moment.  "Well,  Hardy,"  said  Nelson, 
"how  goes  the  day  with  us?" — Very  well,"  re- 
plied Hardy  :  "  ten  ships  have  struck,  but  five  of 
their  van  have  tacked,  and  show  an  intention  of 
bearing  down  upon  the  J'ictory.  I  have  called 
two  or  three  of  our  fresh  ships  round,  and  have 
no  doubt  of  giving  them  a  drubbing. "  — "  I 
hope,"  said  Nelson,  "none  of  our  ships  have 
struck?"  Hardy  answered,  "Theiewas  no  fear 
of  that."  Then,  and  not  till  then,  Nelson  spoke 
of  himself.  ' '  I  am  a  dead  man,  Hardy, ' '  said 
he  :  "I  am  going  fast : — it  will  be  all  over  with 
me  soon.  Come  nearer  to  me.  L,et  my  dear 
Lady  Hamilton  have  my  hair,  and  all  other 
things  belonging  to  me."  Hardy  observed,  that 
he  hoped   Mr.   Peatty  could  yet  hold  out  some 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


301 


prospect  of  life.  "Oh,  no!"  he  replied;  "it  is 
impossible.  My  back  is  shot  through.  Beatty 
will  tell  you  so."  Captain  Hardy  then,  once 
more,  shook  hands  with  him ;  and,  with  a  heart 
almost  bursting,  hastened  upon  deck. 

By  this  time  all  feeling  below  the  breast  was 
gone  ;  and  Nelson,  having  made  the  surgeon  as- 
certain this,  said  to  him  :  "  You  knoT  I  am  gone. 
I  know  it.  I  feel  something  rising  in  my  breast ' ' 
— putting  his  hand  on  his  left  side— "  which  tells 
me  so."  And  upon  Beatty's  inquiring  whether 
his  pain  was  very  great?  he  replied,  "So  great, 
that  he  wished  he  was  dead.  Yet,"  said  he,  in  a 
lower  voice,  ' '  one  would  like  to  live  a  little  longer 
too!"  And  after  a  few  minutes,  in  the  same 
under  tone,  he  added  :  ' '  What  would  become  of 
poor  Fady  Hamilton  if  she  knew  my  situation?" 
Next  to  his  country  she  occupied  his  thoughts. 
Captain  Hardy,  some  fifty  minutes  after  he  had 
left  the  cockpit  returned  ;  and  again  taking  the 
hand  of  his  dying  friend  and  commander,  con- 
gratulated him  on  having  gained  a  complete 
victory.  How  many  of  the  enemy  were  taken  he 
did  not  know,  as  it  was  impossible  to  perceive 
them  distinctly — but  fourteen  or  fifteen  at  least. 
"  That's  well,"  cried  Nelson  ;  "but,  I  bargained 
for  twenty. ' '  And  then,  in  a  stronger  voice,  he  said, 
'  Anchor,  Hardy  ;  anchor. ' '  Hardy,  upon  this, 
hinted  that  Admiral  Collingwood  would  take  upon 
himself  the  direction  of  affairs.  ' '  Not  while  I 
live,  Hardy  !"  said  the  dying  Nelson,  ineffectually 
endeavoring  to  raise  himself  from  the  bed  :  "do 
you  anchor."  His  previous  order  for  preparing 
to  anchor  had  shown  how  clearly  he  foresaw  the 
necessity  of  this.  Presently,  calling  Hardy  back, 
he  said  to  him,  in  a  low  voice,  "Don't  throw  me 
overboard  :"  and  he  desired  that  he  might  be 
buried  by  his  parents,  unless  it  should  please  the 
king  to  order  otherwise.  Then,  reverting  to  pri- 
vate feelings  ;  ' '  Take  care  of  my  dear  Lady 
Hamilton. — Kiss  me,  Hardy,"  said  he.  Hardy 
knelt  down,  and  kissed  his  cheek  :  and  Nelson 
said,  "  Now  I  am  satisfied.  Thank  God,  I  have 
done  my  duty."  Hardy  stood  over  him  in  silence 
for  a  moment  or  two  ;  then  knelt  again,  and  kissed 
his  forehead.  "  Who  is  that?"  said  Nelson  ;  and 
being  informed,  he  replied,  "God  bless  you, 
Hardy."     And  Hardy  then  left  him — for  ever. 

Nelson  now  desired  to  be  turned  upon  his  right 
side,  and  said  :  "I  wish  I  had  not  left  the  deck  ; 
for  I  shall  soon  be  gone."     Death  was,  indeed, 


rapidly  approaching.  He  said  to  the  chaplain  : 
"Doctor,  I  have  not  been  a  great  sinner:"  and, 
after  a  short  pause,  ' '  Remember  that  I  leave  Lady 
Hamilton,  and  my  daughter  Horatia,  as  a  legacy 
to  my  country."  His  articulation  now  became 
difficult ;  but  he  was  distinctly  heard  to  say, 
"Thank  God,  I  have  done  my  duty!"  These 
words  he  had  repeatedly  pronounced  ;  and  they 
were  the  last  words  which  he  uttered.  He  expired 
at  thirty  minutes  after  four, — three  hours  and  a 
quarter  after  he  had  received  his  wound. 

Within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  Nelson  was> 
wounded,  about  fifty  of  the  Victory's  men  fell- 
by  the  enemy's  musketry.  They,  however,  on 
their  part,  were  not  idle ;  and  it  was  not  long 
before  there  were  only  two  Frenchmen  left  alive 
in  the  mizentop  of  the  Redoubtable.  One  of 
them  was  the  man  who  had  given  the  fatal  wound  : 
he  did  not  live  to  boast  of  what  he  had^done.  An 
old  quartermaster  had  seen  him  fire  ;  and  easily 
recognized  him,  because  he  wore  a  glazed  cocked 
hat  and  a  white  frock.  This  quartermaster,  and 
two  midshipmen,  Mr.  Collingwood  and  Mr.  Pol- 
lard, were  the  only  persons  left  on  the  Victory  s 
poop ; — the  two  midshipmen  kept  firing  at  the 
top,  and  he  supplied  them  with  cartridges.  One 
of  the  Frenchmen,  attempting  to  make  his  escape 
down  the  rigging,  was  shot  by  Mr.  Pollard,  and 
fell  on  the  poop.  But  the  old  quartermaster,  as 
he  cried  out,  "  That's  he,  that's  he,  "  and  pointed 
at  the  other,  who  was  coming  forward  to  fire  again, 
received  a  shot  in  his  mouth,  and  fell  dead.  Botli 
the  midshipmen  then  fired  at  the  same  time,  and 
the  fellow  dropped  in  the  top.  When  they  took 
possession  of  the  prize,  they  went  into  the  mizen- 
top, and  found  him  dead  ;  with  one  ball  through 
his  head,  and  another  through  his  breast. 

The  Redoubtable  struck  within  twenty  min- 
utes after  the  fatal  shot  had  been  fired  from  her. 
During  that  time  she  had  been  twice  on  fire, — in 
her  fore-chains  and  in  her  forecastle.  The  French, 
as  they  had  done  in  other  batties,  made  use  in 
this  of  fireballs  and  other  combustibles.  Once 
they  succeeded  in  setting  fire,  from  the  Redoubt- 
able, to  some  ropes  and  canvass  on  the  Vic- 
tory s  booms.  The  cry  ran  through  the  ship, 
and  reached  the  cockpit :  but  even  this  dreadful 
cry  produced  no  confusion  :  the  men  displayed 
that  perfect  self-possession  in  danger  by  which 
English  seamen  are  characterized ;  they  extin- 
guished the  flames  on  board  their  own  ship,  and 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


"then  hastened  to  extinguish  them  in  the  enemy, 
by  throwing  buckets  of  water  from  the  gangway. 
When  the  Redoubtable  had  struck,  it  was  not 
practicable  to  board  her  from  the  Victory ;  for, 
though  the  two  ships  touched,  the  upper  works 
of  both  fell  in  so  much  that  there  was  a  great 
space  between  their  gangways  ;  and  she  could  not 
be  boarded  from  the  lower  or  middle  decks,  because 
her  ports  were  down. 

Once,  amidst  his  sufferings,  Nelson  had  ex- 
pressed a  wish  that  he  wTere  dead ;  but  immedi- 
ately the  spirit  subdued  the  pains  of  death,  and 
he  wished  to  live  a  little  longer  ;  doubtless  that 
he  might  hear  the  completion  of  the  victory  which 
he  had  seen  so  gloriously  begun.  That  consola- 
tion— that  joy — that  triumph,  was  afforded  him. 
He  lived  to  know  that  the  victory  was  decisive  ; 
and  the  last  guns  which  were  fired  at  the  flying  en- 
emy were  heard  a  minute  or  two  before  he  expired. 

The  total  British  loss  in  the  battle  of  Trafalgar 
amounted  to  1587.  Twenty  of  the  enemy  struck  ; 
— unhappily  the  fleet  did  not  anchor,  as  Nelson, 
almost  with  his  dying  breath,  had  enjoined  ; — a 
gale  came  on  from  the  south-west ;  some  of  the 
prizes  went  down,  some  went  on  shore ;  one 
effected  its  escape  into  Cadiz  ;  others  were  de- 
stroyed ;  four  only  were  saved,  and  those  by  the 
greatest  exertions. 

It  is  almost  superfluous  to  add,  that  all  the 
honors  which  a  grateful  country  could  bestow, 
were  heaped  upon  the  memory  of  Nelson.  His 
brother  was  made  an  earl,  with  a  grant  of  £6000 
per  year ;  .£10,000  were  voted  to  each  of  his 
sisters  ;  and  ,£100,000  for  the  purchase  of  an 
estate.  A  public  funeral  was  decreed,  and  a  pub- 
lic monument.  Statues  and  monuments  also  were 
voted  by  most  of  our  principal  cities.  The  leaden 
coffin,  in  which  he  was  brought  home,  was  cut  in 
pieces,  which  were  distributed  as  relics  of  Saint 
Nelson, — so  the  gunner  of  the  Victory  called 
them  : — and  when,  at  his  interment,  his  flag  was 
about  to  be  lowered  into  the  grave,  the  sailors, 
who  assisted  at  the  ceremony,  with  one  accord 
rent  it  in  pieces,  that  each  might  preserve  a  frag- 
ment while  he  lived. 


REMARKABLE    FACTS    REGARDING    THE    IN- 
FLUENCE OF  MILITARY  EVENTS  UPON 
THE  HUMAN  BODY. 

THE  singular  and  remarkable  facts  recorded  in 
this  article  are  selected    from  the  writings 
•of  Dr.  Benjamin  Rush,  the  celebrated  physician 


and  philanthropist  of  Colonial  times,  and  intimate 
friend  of  Franklin  : 

In  the  beginning  of  a  battle,  I  have  observed 
thirst  to  be  a  very  common  sensation  among  both 
officers  and  soldiers.  It  occurred  where  no  exer- 
cise, or  action  of  the  body,  could  have  excited  it. 

Many  officers  have  informed  me,  that  after  the 
first  onset  in  a  battle  they  felt  a  glow  of  heat,  so 
universal  as  to  be  perceptible  in  both  their  ears. 
This  was  the  case,  in  a  particular  manner,  in  the 
battle  of  Princeton,  on  the  third  of  January,  in 
the  year  1777,  on  which  day  the  weather  was  re- 
markably cold. 

A  veteran  colonel  of  a  New  England  regiment, 
whom  I  visited  at  Princeton,  and  who  was 
wounded  in  the  hand  at  the  battle  of  Monmouth, 
on  the  28th  of  June,  1778  (a  day  in  which  the 
mercury  stood  at  900  of  Fahrenheit's  thermome- 
ter), after  describing  his  situation  at  the  time  he 
received  his  wound,  concluded  his  story  by  re- 
marking, "  that  fighting  was  hot  work,  on  a  cold 
day,  but  much  more  so  on  a  warm  day."  The 
many  instances  which  appeared  after  that  memor- 
able battle,  of  soldiers  who  were  found  among  the 
slain  without  any  marks  of  wounds  or  violence 
upon  their  bodies,  were  probably  occasioned  by 
the  heat  excited  in  the  body,  by  the  emotions  of 
the  mind,  being  added  to  that  of  the  atmosphere. 

Soldiers  bore  operations  of  every  kind,  immedi- 
ately after  a  battle,  with  much  more  fortitude 
than  they  did  at  any  time  afterwards. 

The  effects  of  the  military  life  upon  the  human 
body  come  next  to  be  considered  under  this 
head. 

In  another  place  I  have  mentioned  three  cases 
of  pulmonary  consumption  being  perfectly  cured 
by  the  diet  and  hardships  of  a  camp  life. 

Doctor  Blane,  in  his  valuable  observations  on 
the  diseases  incident  to  seamen,  ascribes  the  ex- 
traordinary healthiness  of  the  British  fleet  in  the 
month  of  April,  1782,  to  the  effects  produced  on 
the  spirit  of  the  soldiers  and  seamen,  by  the  vic- 
tory obtained  over  the  French  fleet  on  the  12th 
of  that  month ;  and  relates,  upon  the  authority 
of  Mr.  Ives,  an  instance,  in  the  war  between 
Great  Britain  and  the  combined  powers  of  France 
and  Spain,  in  1744,  in  which  the  scurvy,  as  well 
as  other  diseases,  were  checked  by  the  prospect 
of  a  naval  engagement. 

The  American  army  furnished  an  instance  of 
the  effects  of    victory  upon  the    human    mind, 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S    HISTORY. 


303 


which  may  serve  to  establish  the  inferences  from 
the  facts  related  by  Doctor  Blane.  The  Philadel- 
phia militia  who  joined  the  remains  of  General 
Washington's  army,  in  December,  1776,  and 
shared  with  them  a  few  clays  afterwards  in  the 
capture  of  a  large  body  of  Hessians  at  Trenton, 
consisted  of  1500  men,  most  of  whom  had  been 
accustomed  to  the  habits  of  a  city  life.  These 
men  slept  in  tents  and  barns,  and  sometimes  in 
the  open  air, 
during  the 
usual  colds  of 
December  and 
January ;  and 
yet  there  were 
but  two  in- 
stances of 
sickness,  and 
only  one  of 
death,  in  that 
body  of  men 
in  the  course 
of  nearly  six 
weeks,  in 
those  winter 
months.  This 
extraordinary 
healthiness  of 
so  great  a 
number  of 
men,  under 
such  trying 
circumstances 
can  only  be 
ascribed  to  the 
vigour  infused 
into  the  hu- 
man body  by 
the  victory  of 
Trenton  hav- 
ing produced 
insensi  b  i  1  i  t  y 

to  all  the  usual  remote  causes  of  diseases.  Militia 
officers  and  soldiers,  who  enjoyed  good  health 
during  a  campaign,  were  often  affected  by  fevers 
and  other  diseases  as  soon  as  they  returned  to 
their  respective  homes.  I  know  one  instance 
of  a  militia  captain  who  was  seized  with  convul- 
sions the  first  night  he  lay  on  a  feather  bed,  after 
sleeping  several  months  on  a  mattress  or  upon  the 
ground.     These  affections  of  the  body  appeared 


to  be  produced  only  by  the  sudden  abstraction  of 
that  tone  in  the  system,  which  was  excited  by  a 
sense  of  danger,  and  the  other  invigorating  ob- 
jects of  a  military  life. 

The  nostalgia  of  Doctor  Cullen,  or  the  home- 
sickness, was  a  frequent  disease  in  the  American 
army,  more  especially  among  the  soldiers  of  the 
New  England  States.  But  this  disease  was  sus- 
pended by  the  superior  action  of  the  mind,  under 


&>dm$MeM~>* 


MS^r^SS^  •  '  .ij'-'ri.   ■  &*<»?*' 


CHARGE    OF   THE    AMERICAN    CAVALRY    AT   THE    BATTLE   OF   PRINCETON. 

the  influence  of  the  principles  which  governed 
common  soldiers  in  the  American  army.  Of  this 
General  Gates  furnished  me  with  a  remarkable 
instance  in  1776,  soon  after  his  return  from  the 
command  of  a  large  bod}'  of  regular  troops  and 
militia  at  Ticonderoga.  From  the  effects  of  the 
nostalgia,  and  the  feebleness  of  the  discipline 
which  was  exercised  over  the  militia,  desertions 
were  very  frequent  and  numerous  in  his  army,  in 


304 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND  THE 


the  latter  part  of  the  campaign  ;  and  yet  during 
the  three  weeks  in  which  the  general  expected 
every  hour  an  attack  to  be  made  upon  him  b}' 
General  Burgoyne,  there  was  not  a  single  deser- 
tion from  his  army,  which  consisted  at  that  time 
of  10,000  men. 

The  patience,  firmness,  and  magnanimity  with 
which  the  officers  and  soldiers  of  the  American 
army  endured  the  complicated  evils  of  hunger, 
coid,  and  nakedness,  can  only  be  ascribed  to  an 
insensibility  of  body  produced  by  an  uncommon 
tone  of  mind,  excited  by  the  love  of  liberty  and 
their  country. 

Before  I  proceed  to  the  second  general  division 
of  this  subject,  I  shall  take  notice  that  more  in- 
stances of  apoplexies  occurred  in  the  city  of 
Philadelphia,  in  the  winter  of  1774-5,  than  had 
been  known  in  former  years.  I  should  have  hesi- 
tated in  recording  this  fact  had  I  not  found  the 
observation  supported  by  a  fact  of  the  same  kind, 
and  produced  by  a  nearly  similar  cause,  in  the 
appendix  to  the  practical  works  of  Doctor  Baglivi, 
professor  of  physic  and  anatomy  at  Rome.  After 
a  very  wet  season  in  the  winter  of  1694-5,  ^le  in" 
forms  us  that  "  apoplexies  displayed  their  rage  ; 
and  perhaps  (adds  our  author)  some  part  of  this 
epidemic  illness  was  owing  to  the  universal  grief 
and  domestic  care  occasioned  by  all  Europe  being 
engaged  in  a  war.  All  commerce  was  disturbed, 
and  all  the  avenues  of  peace  blocked  up,  so  that 
the  strongest  heart  could  scarcely  bear  the 
thoughts  of  it."  The  winter  of  1774-5  was  a 
period  of  uncommon  anxiety  among  the  citizens 
of  America.  Every  countenance  wore  the  marks 
of  painful  solicitude  for  the  event  of  a  petition  to 
the  throne  of  Britain,  which  was  to  determine 
whether  reconciliation,  or  a  civil  war,  with  all  its 
terrible  and  distressing  consequences,  were  to  take 
place.  The  apoplectic  fit,  which  deprived  the 
world  of  the  talents  and  virtues  of  Peyton  Ran- 
dolph, while  he  filled  the  chair  of  Congress,  in 
1775,  appeared  to  be  occasioned  in  part  by  the 
pressure  of  the  uncertainty  of  those  great  events 
upon  his  mind.  To  the  name  of  this  illustrious 
patriot,  several  others  might  be  added,  who  were 
affected  by  the  apoplexy  in  the  same  memorable 
year.  At  this  time  a  difference  of  opinion  upon 
the  subject  of  the  contest  with  Great  Britain  had 
scarcely  taken  place  among  the  citizens  of 
America. 

The  political  events  of  the  revolution  produced 


different  effects  upon  the  human  body,  through 
the  medium  of  the  mind,  according  as  they  acted 
upon  the  friends  or  enemies  of  the  revolution. 

I  shall  first  describe  its  effects  upon  the  former 
class  of  citizens  of  the  United  States. 

Many  persons  of  infirm  and  delicate  habits  were 
restored  to  perfect  health  by  the  change  of  place, 
or  occupation,  to  which  the  war  exposed  them. 
This  was  the  case  in  a  more  especial  manner  with 
hysterical  women,  who  were  much  interested  in 
the  successful  issue  of  the  contest.  The  same 
effects  of  a  civil  war  upon  the  hysteria  were  ob- 
served by  Doctor  Cullen  in  Scotland,  in  the  3-ears 
1745  and  1746.  It  may  perhaps  help  to  extend 
our  ideas  of  the  influence  of  the  passions  upon 
diseases,  to  add,  that  when  either  love,  jealous}', 
giief,  or  even  devotion,  wholly  engross  the  female 
mind,  they  seldom  fail  in  like  manner  to  cure  or 
to  suspend  hysterical  complaints. 

An  uncommon  cheerfulness  prevailed  every- 
where, among  the  friends  of  the  revolution.  De- 
feats, and  even  the  loss  of  relations  and  property, 
were  soon  forgotten  in  the  great  objects  of  the 
war. 

The  population  in  the  United  States  w7as  more 
rapid  from  births  during  the  war  than  it  had  ever 
been  in  the  same  number  of  years  since  the  settle- 
ment of  the  country. 

I  am  disposed  to  ascribe  this  increase  of  births 
chiefly  to  the  quantity  and  extensive  circulation 
of  money,  and  to  the  facility  of  procuring  the 
means  of  subsistence  during  the  war,  which 
favoured  marriages  among  the  labouring  part  of 
the  people.*  But  I  have  sufficient  documents  to 
prove  that  marriages  were  more  fruitful  than  in 
former  years,  and  that  a  considerable  number  of 
unfruitful  marriages  became  fruitful  during  the 
war.  In  1783,  the  year  of  the  peace,  there  were 
several  children  born  of  parents  who  had  lived 
many  years  together  without  issue. 

Mr.  Hume  informs  us,  in  his  History  of  Eng- 
land, that  some  old  people,  upon  hearing  the  news 
of  the  restoration  of  Charles  II.,  died  suddenly 
of  joy.  There  was  a  time  when  I  doubted  the 
truth  of  this  assertion  ;  but  I  am  now  disposed  to 

*  Wheat,  which  was  sold  before  the  war  for  seven  shil- 
lings and  sixpence,  was  sold  for  several  years  during  the 
war  for  four,  and  in  some  places  for  two  and  sixpence, 
Pennsylvania  currency,  per  bushel.  Beggars  of  every 
description  disappeared  in  the  year  1776,  and  were  seldom 
seen  till  near  the  close  of  the  war. 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


305 


believe  it,  from  having  heard  of  a  similar  effect 
from  an  agreeable  political  event,  in  the  course  of 
the  American  revolution.  The  door-keeper  of 
Congress,  an  aged  man,  died  suddenly,  imme- 
diately after  hearing  of  the  capture  of  Lord 
Cornwallis's  army.  His  death  was  universally 
ascribed  to  a  violent  emotion  of  political  joy. 
This  species  of  joy  appears  to  be  one  of  the 
strongest  emotions  that  can  agitate  the  human 
mind. 

Perhaps  the  influence  of  that  ardour  in  trade 
and  speculation  which  seized  many  of  the  friends 
of  the  revolution,  and  which  was  excited  by  the 
fallacious  nominal  amount  of  the  paper  money, 
should  rather  be  considered  as  a  disease  than  as  a 
passion.  It  unhinged  the  judgment,  deposed  the 
moral  faculty,  and  filled  the  imagination,  in  many 
people,  with  airy  and  imx-iracticable  schemes  of 
wealth  and  grandeur.  Desultory  manners,  and  a 
peculiar  species  of  extempore  conduct,  were  among 
its  characteristic  symptoms.  It  produced  insen- 
sibility to  cold,  hunger,  and  danger.  The  trading 
towns,  and  in  some  instances  the  extremities  of  the 
United  States,  were  frequently  visited  in  a  few 
hours  or  days  by  persons  affected  by  this  disease ; 
and  hence,  "  to  travel  with  the  speed  of  a  specu- 
lator ' '  became  a  common  saying  in  many  parts 
of  the  country.  This  species  of  insanity  (if  I 
may  be  allowed  to  call  it  by  that  name)  did  not 
require  the  confinement  of  a  Bedlam  to  cure  it, 
like  the  South-Sea  madness  described  by  Doctor 
Mead.  Its  remedies  were  the  depreciation  of  the 
paper  money,  and  the  events  of  the  peace. 

The  political  events  of  the  revolution  produced 
upon  its  enemies  very  different  effects  from  those 
which  have  been  mentioned. 

It  was  observed  in  South  Carolina  that  several 
gentlemen,  who  had  protected  their  estates  by 
swearing  allegiance  to  the  British  government, 
died  soon  after  the  evacuation  of  Charlestown  by 
the  British  army.  Their  deaths  were  ascribed  to 
the  neglect  with  which  they  were  treated  by  their 
ancient  friends,  who  had  adhered  to  the  govern- 
ment of  the  United  States.  The  disease  was 
called,  by  the  common  people,  the  "protection 
fever. ' ' 

From  the  causes  which  produced  this  hypo- 
chondriasis, I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  distin- 
guishing it  by  the  name  of  revolutiana. 

In  some  cases  this  disease  was  rendered  fatal  by 
exile  and  confinement ;  and  in  others,  by  those 
20 


persons  who  were  afflicted  with   it  seeking  relief    '? 
from  spirituous  liquors. 


CONQUEST    OF    JERUSALEM     BY     THE     CRU- 
SADERS. 
BY   EDWARD    GIBBON. 

JERUSALEM    has   derived    some    reputation 
from   the    number   and    importance   of   her 
memorable  sieges.    It  was  not  till  after  a  long  and 
obstinate  contest  that  Babylon  and  Rome  could 
prevail  against  the  obstinacy  of  the  people,  the 
craggy  ground  that  might  supersede  the  necessity 
of  fortifications,  and  the  walls  and  towers  that 
would  have  fortified  the  most   accessible  plain. 
These  obstacles  were  diminished  in  the  age  of 
the  crusades.     The  bulwarks  had  been  complete- 
ly destroyed  and  imperfectly  restored  :  the  Jews,, 
their  nation  and  worship,  were  forever  banished  ; 
but  nature  is  less  changeable  than  man,   and  the 
site  of  Jerusalem,  though  somewhat  softened  and 
somewhat  removed,  was  still  strong  against  the 
assaults  of   an  enemy.     By  the  experience  of  a 
recent  siege,   and  a  three  years'   possession,   the 
Saracens  of  Egypt  had  been  taught  to  discern, 
and  in  some  degree  to  remedy,   the  defects  of  a 
place   which  religion  as  well  as  honour  forbade 
them  to  resign.     Aladin  or  Iftikhar,   the  caliph's 
lieutenant,  was  intrusted  with   the    defence  ;    his 
policy  strove  to  restrain  the  native  Christians  by 
the  dread  of  their  own  ruin  and  that  of  the  holy 
sepulchre ;  to  animate  the  Moslems  by  the  assur- 
ance of  temporal  and  eternal  rewards.     His  gar- 
rison is  said  to  have  consisted  of  forty  thousand 
Turks   and   Arabians ;    and  if  he  could  muster 
twenty  thousand  of  the  inhabitants,   it  must  be 
confessed  that  the  besieged  were  more  numerous 
than  the  besieging  arm}-.     Had   the   diminished 
strength  and  numbers  of  the  Latins  allowed  them 
to  grasp  the  whole  circumference  of  four  thousand 
yards  (about  two  English  miles  and  a  half),   to 
what  useful  purpose  should   the}-  have  descended 
into  the  valley  of  Ben  Himmon   and  torrent  of 
Cedron,  or  approached  the  precipices  of  the  south 
and  east,  from  whence  they  had  nothing  either  to 
hope  or  fear?     This  siege  was  more  reasonably 
directed  against  the  northern  and  western  sides  of 
the  city.     Godfrey  of  Bouillon  erected  his  stand- 
ard on  the  first  swell  of  Mount  Calvary  ;    to  the 
left  as  far  as  St.   Stephen's  gate,  the  line  of   at- 
tack   was   continued    by   Tancred    and    the   two 
Roberts ;    and  Count  Raymond  established    his 


306 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,    AND   THE 


quarters  from  the  citadel  to  the  foot  of  Mount  supply  of  cisterns  and  aqueducts.  The  circumjacent 

S    :i.  which  was  no  longer  included  within  the  country  is  equally  destitute  of  trees  for  the  uses 

precincts  of  the  city.     On  the  fifth  day,   the  cru-  of  shade  and  building,  but  some  large  beams  were 

saders  made  a  general  assault,  in  the  fanatic  hope  discovered  in  a  cave  by  the  crusaders :  a  wood 


SOUTH    WALL   OF  JERUSALEM, 

SCALED      BY      THE      CRUSA-  .5 

DERS.  ~ 

of  battering  down  the  walls 
without   engines,    and    of  "*  $ 

scaling  them  without  lad- 
ders. By  the  dint  of  brutal  force,  they 
burst  the  first  barrier,  but  they  were 
driven  back  with  shame  and  slaughter 
to  the  camp  :  the  influence  of  vision 
and  prophecy  was  deadened  by  the 
too  frequent  abuse  of  those  pious  strata- 
gems, and  time  and  labour  were  found  to  be 
the  only  means  of  victory.  The  time  of  the 
siege  was  indeed  fulfilled  in  forty  days,  but  they 
were  forty  daj-s  of  calamity  and  anguish.  A 
repetition  of  the  old  complaint  of  famine  may  be 
imputed  in  some  degree  to  the  voracious  or  dis- 
orderly appetite  of  the  Franks,  but  the  stony  soil 
of  Jerusalem  is  almost  destitute  of  water  :  the 
scanty  springs  and  hasty  torrents  were  dry  in  the 
summer  season  ;  nor  was  the  thirst  of  the  be- 
siegers relieved,    as  in  the  city,  by  the  artificial 


near  Sichem,  the  enchanted  grove  of  Tasso,  was 
cut  down  :  the  necessary  timber  was  transported 
to  the  camp  by  the  vigour  and  dexterity  of  Tan- 
cred ;    and   the   engines   were    framed    by   some 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


307 


Genoese  artists,  who  had  fortunately  landed  in 
the  harbour  of  Jaffa.  Two  movable  turrets  were 
constructed  at  the  expense  and  in  the  stations  of 
the  Duke  of  Lorraine  and  the  Count  of  Tholouse, 
and  rolled  forwards  with  devout  labour,  not  to 
the  most  accessible  but  to  the  most  neglected  parts 
of  the  fortification.  Raymond' s  tower  was  reduced 
to  ashes  by  the  fire  of  the  besieged,  but  his  col- 
league was  more 
vigilant  and  suc- 
cessful ;  the  enemies 
were  driven  by  his 
archers  from  the 
rampart ;  the  draw- 
bridge was  let  down ; 
and  on  a  Friday,  at 
three  in  the  after- 
noon, the  day  and 
hour  of  the  Passion, 
Godfrey  of  the  Bou- 
illon stood  victorious 
on  the  walls  of  Je- 
rusalem. His  ex- 
ample was  followed 
on  every  side  by  the 
emulation  of  valour  ; 
and  about  four  hun- 
dred and  sixty  years 
after  the  conquest  of 
Omar  ;  the  holy  city 
was  rescued  from 
the  Mohammedan 
yoke.  In  the  pillage 
of  public  and  pri- 
vate wealth,  the  ad- 
venturers had  agreed 
to  respect  the  exclu- 
sive property  of  the 
first  occupant ;  and 
the  spoils  of  the 
great  mosque — sev- 
enty lamps  and 
mass}'  vases  of  gold 

and  silver — rewarded  the  diligence  and  displayed 
the  generosity  of  Tancred.  A  bloody  sacrifice 
was  offered  by  his  mistaken  votaries  to  the 
God  of  the  Christians :  resistance  might  pro- 
voke, but  neither  age  nor  sex  could  mollify  their 
implacable  rage  ;  they  indulged  themselves  three 
days  in  a  promiscuous  masscre,  and  the  infection 
of  the  dead  bodies  produced  an  epidemical  dis- 


ease. After  seventy  thousand  Moslems  had  been 
put  to  the  sword,  and  the  harmless  Jews  had  been 
burnt  in  their  synagogue,  they  could  still  reserve 
a  multitude  of  captives  whom  interest  or  lassitude 
persuaded  them  to  spare.  Of  these  savage  heroes 
of  the  cross,  Tancred  alone  betrayed  some  senti- 
ments of  compassion  ;  yet  we  may  praise  the 
more  selfish  lenity  of  Raymond,   who  granted  a 


GODFREY,    OF  BOOmoN,    LEADING   THE  ASSAULT   UPON  JERUSALEM. 

capitulation  and  safe  conduct  to  the  garrison  of 
the  citadel.  The  holy  sepulchre  was  now  free  ; 
and  the  bloody  victors  prepared  to  accomplish 
their  vow.  Bareheaded  and  barefoot,  with  con- 
trite hearts,  and  in  a  humble  posture,  they  ascended 
the  hill  of  Calvary  amidst  the  loud  anthems  of 
the  clergy  ;  kissed  the  stone  which  had  covered 
the  Saviour  of  the  world,  and  bedewed  with  tears 


308 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


of  joy  aud   penitence  the  monument  of  their  re- 
demption. 


SCENES  AT  THE  DEATH  OF  QUEEN  ELIZA- 
BETH. 
QOME  incidents  happened  which  revived  her 
vP  tenderness  for  Essex,  and  filled  her  with  the 
deepest  sorrow  for  the  consent  which  she  had  un- 
warily given  to  his  execution. 


her  service  recmired  him  often  to  be  absent  from 
her  person,  and  exposed  him  to  all  those  ill  offices 
which  his  enemies,  more  assiduous  in  their  attend- 
ance, could  employ  against,  him.  She  was  moved 
with  this  tender  jealousy  ;  and  making  him  the 
present  of  a  ring,  desired  him  to  keep  that  pledge 
of  her  affection,  and  assured  him  that  into  what- 
ever disgrace  he  should  fall,  whatever  prejudices 
she  mitrht  be  induced  to  entertain  against  him. 


MASSACRE   OF  THE   INFIDELS. 

The  Earl  of  Essex,  after  his  return  from  the  yet  if  he  sent  her  that  ring,  she  would  immedi- 
fortunate  expedition  against  Cadiz,  observing  the  ately,  upon  sight  of  it,  recall  her  former  tender- 
increase  of  the  queen's  fond  attachment  towards  ness,  would  afford  him  a  patient  hearing,  and 
him,  took  occasion  to  regret  that  the  necessity  of  would  lend  a  favorable  ear  to  his  apology.    Essex, 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S    HISTORY. 


309 


notwithstanding  all  his  misfortunes,  reserved  this 
precious  gift  to  the  last  extremity ;  but  after  his 
trial  and  condemnation,  he  resolved  to  try  the  ex- 
periment, "and  he  committed  the  ring  to  the  Coun- 
tess of  Nottingham,  whom  he  desired  to  deliver 
it  to  the  queen.     The  countess  was  prevailed  on 
by  her  husband,  the  mortal  enemy  of  Essex,  not 
to  execute  the  commission  ;  and  Elizabeth,  who 
still  expected  that  her  favourite  would  make  this 
last    appeal  to  her  tenderness,  and  who 
ascribed  the  neglect  of  it  to  his  invincible 
obstinacy,    was,    after   much    delay    and 
man}-   internal    combats,   pushed   by  re- 
sentment and  policy  to  sign  the  warrant 
for  his  execution.      The  Countess  of  Not- 
tingham,   falling   into    sickness,    and  af- 
fected with  the  near  approach  of  death, 
was  seized  with  remorse  for  her  conduct ; 
and    having    obtained    a   visit   from  the 
queen,   she  craved  her  pardon,    and   re- 
vealed to  her  the  fatal  secret.    The  queen, 
astonished  with  this  incident,  burst  into  a 
furious    passion  :    she    shook   the   dying 
countess  in  her  bed  ;  and  crying  to  her 
that  God  might  pardon  her,  but  she  never 
could,  she  broke  from  her,   and  thence- 
forth res:gned  herself  over  to  the  deepest 
and  most  incurable  melancholy.     She  re- 
jected all  consolation  :  she  even  refused 
food  and-sustenance  ;  and,  throwing  her- 
self  on    the    floor,    she   remained   sullen 
and  immovable,  feeding  her  thoughts  on 
her  afflictions,  and  declaring  life  and  ex- 
istence an  insufferable  burden  to  her.    Few 
words  she  uttered  ;  and  they  were  all  ex- 
pressive of  some  inward  grief  which  she 
cared    not    to    reveal :     but    sighs    and 
groans  were    the  chief  vent  which    she 
gave    to    her   despondency,    and    which, 
though    thej-    discovered    her    sorrows, 
were  never  able  to  ease  or  assuage  them. 
Ten  days    and  nights  she  la}-  upon  the 
carpet,    leaning   on    cushions   which    her   maids 
brought  her ;  and  her  physicians  could  not  per- 
suade her   to    allow   herself   to    be    put  to  bed, 
much  less  to  make  trial  of  any  remedies  which 
they    prescribed    to    her.       Her    anxious    mind 
at  last  had   so  long  preyed  on    her    frail  body, 
that    her    end    was    visibly    approaching ;    and 
the   council  being  assembled,    sent    the    keeper, 


admiral,  and  secretary,  to  know  her  will  with  re- 
gard to  her  successor.  She  answered  with  a  faint 
voice  that  as  she  had  held  a  regal  sceptre,  she  de- 
sired no  other  than  a  royal  successor.  Cecil,  re- 
questing her  to  explain  herself  more  particularly, 
she  subjoined  that  she  would  have  a  king  to  suc- 
ceed her  ;  and  who  should  that  be  but  her  nearest 
kinsman,  the  king  of  Scots?  Being  then  advised 
by    the    archbishop    of    Canterbury    to    fix    her 


DEATH   OF  OUEEX   ELIZABETH. 

thoughts  upon  God,  she  replied  that  she  did  so, 
nor  did  her  mind  in  the  least  wander  from  him. 
Her  voice  soon  after  left  her ;  her  senses  failed  ; 
she  fell  into  a  lethargic  slumber,  which  continued 
some  hours,  and  she  expired  gently,  without  far- 
ther struggle  or  convulsion  (March  24),  in  the 
seventieth  year  of  her  age  and  forty-fifth  of  her 
reisrn. — David  Hume. 


Slo 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


CHARACTER  OF   MARY   QUEEN    OF    SCOTS. 
BY    WILLIAM     ROBERTSON,    HISTORIAN 

TO  all  the  charms  of  beauty  and  the  utmost 
elegance  of  external  form,  she  added  those 
accomplishments  which  render  their  impression 
irresistible.  Polite,  affable,  insinuating,  spright- 
ly, and  capable  of  speaking  and  writing  with 
equal  ease  and  dignity.  Sudden,  however,  and 
violent  in  all  her  attachments,  because  her  heart 
was  warm  and  unsuspicious.  Impatient  of  con- 
tradiction, because  she  had  been  accustomed  from 
her  infancy  to  be  treated  as  a  queen.  Xo  stranger, 
on  some  occasions,  to  dissimulation,  which,  in  that 
perfidious  court  where  she  received  her  education, 


MARY,    QUEEN    OF   SCOTS. 

was  reckoned  among  the  necessary  arts  of  govern- 
ment. Xot  insensible  to  flatter}-,  or  unconscious 
of  that  pleasure  with  which  almost  even-  woman 
beholds  the  influence  of  her  own  beauty.  Formed 
with  the  qualities  which  we  love,  not  with  the 
talents  that  we  admire,  she  was  an  agreeable 
woman  rather  than  an  illustrious  queen.  The  vi- 
vacity of  her  spirit,  not  sufficiently  tempered  with 
sound  judgment,  and  the  warmth  of  her  heart, 
which  was  not  at  all  times  under  the  restraint  of 
discretion,  betrayed  her  both  into  errors  and  into 
crimes.     To  sav  that  she  was  alwavs  unfortunate 


will  not  account  for  that  long  and  almost  uninter- 
rupted succession  of  calamities  which  befell  her  ; 
we  must  likewise  add  that  she  was  often  impru- 
dent. Her  passion  for  Darnley  was  rash,  youth- 
ful, and  excessive.  And  though  the  sudden  tran- 
sition to  the  opposite  extreme  was  the  natural 
effect  of  her  ill-requited  love,  and  of  his  ingrati- 
tude, insolence  and  brutality,  yet  neither  these  nor 
Both  well's  artful  address  and  important  sendees 
can  justify  her  attachment  to  that  nobleman. 
Even  the  manners  of  the  age,  licentious  as  they 
were,  are  no  apology  for  this  unhappy  passion ; 
nor  can  they  induce  us  to  look  on  that  tragical 
and  infamous  scene  which  followed  upon  it  with 
less  abhorrence.  Humanity  will  draw  a  veil  over 
this  part  of  her  character  which  it  cannot  approve, 
and  ma}-,  perhaps,  prompt  some  to  impute  her 
actions  to  her  situation  more  than  to  her  disposi- 
tion, and  to  lament  the  unhappiness  of  the  former 
rather  than  accuse  the  perverseness  of  the  latter. 
Mary's  sufferings  exceed,  both  in  degree  and  in 
duration,  those  tragical  distresses  which  fancy  has 
feigned  to  excite  sorrow  and  commiseration  ;  and 
while  we  survey  them,  we  are  apt  altogether  to 
forget  her  frailties  ;  we  think  of  her  faults  with 
less  indignation,  and  approve  of  our  tears  as  il 
they  were  shed  for  a  person  who  had  attained  much 
nearer  to  pure  virtue. 

With  regard  to  the  queen's  person,  a  circum- 
stance not  to  be  omitted  in  writing  the  history  of 
a  female  reign,  all  contemporary  authors  agree  in 
ascribing  to  Man-  the  utmost  beauty  of  counte- 
nance and  elegance  of  shape  of  which  the  human 
form  is  capable.  Her  hair  was  black,  though, 
according  to  the  fashion  of  that  age,  she  fre- 
quently wore  borrowed  locks,  and  of  different 
colors.  Her  eyes  were  a  dark  gray,  her  com- 
plexion was  exquisitely  fine,  and  her  hands  and 
arms  remarkably  delicate,  both  as  to  shape  and 
color.  Her  statue  was  a  height  that  rose  to  the 
majestic.  She  danced,  she  walked  and  rode  with 
equal  grace.  Her  taste  for  music  was  just,  and 
she  both  sung  and  played  upon  the  lute  with  un- 
common skill.  Towards  the  end  of  her  life  she 
began  to  grow  fat,  and  her  long  confinement  and 
the  coldness  of  the  houses  in  which  she  had  been 
imprisoned,  brought  on  a  rheumatism,  which  de- 
prived her  of  the  use  of  her  limbs.  "  Xo  man," 
says  Brautome,  "ever  beheld  her  person  without 
admiration  and  love,  or  will  read  her  history  with- 
out sorrow." 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


311 


Man-  Stuart,  the  daughter  of  James  V.,  of 
Scotland,  and  Man-  of  Lorraine,  daughter  of 
Claude,  Duke  of  Guise,  was  born  in  the  castle  of 
Linlithgow,  Scotland,  in  December,  1542,  and  be- 
headed at  Fotheringay  Castle,  Northamptonshire, 
England,  February  8,  15S7.  Her  father  died  a 
few  days  after  her  birth,  and  she  was  crowned 
queen  of  Scotland  when  not  quite  one  year  old. 
In  her  sixth  year 'she  was  betrothed  by  her  mother 
and  the  regent  Arran  to  the  Dauphin  of  France, 
and  immediately  sailed  for  that  country, 
landing  at  Brest  on  the  14th  of  August, 
1548.  She  was  received  in  Paris  most 
affectionately  by  King  Henry  II.,  who 
treated  her  as  a  daughter.  The  French 
court  was  brilliant  and  gay,  and  Mary 
grew  to  young  womanhood  under  its  influ- 
ences, which,  no  doubt,  accounts  for  much 
of  the  frivolous  conduct  of  her  subse- 
quent life.  In  her  sixteenth  j-ear  she  was 
married  to  the  Dauphin,  and  on  the  death 
of  Queen  Mary,  of  England,  called 
"Bloody  Mary,"  which  occurred  the 
same  year,  the  king  of  France  caused  his 
son  to  quarter  the  arms  of  Scotland  with 
those  of  England,  claiming  that  Mary 
Stuart  was  the  rightful  heir  to  the  crowns 
of  both  England  and  Scotland.  This 
claim  was  based  on  the  ground  of  her  de- 
scent from  Margaret  Tudor,  eldest  daugh- 
ter of  Henry  VII.,  of  England,  Elizabeth, 
daughter  of  Henry  VIII.  and  Anne  Bo- 
leyn,  having  been  declared  illegitimate. 
This  act,  aided  by  her  own  imprudent 
disposition,  was  the  cause  of  all  the 
troubles  that  befell  the  unhappy  Queen 
of  Scots  in  after  life. 

Henry  II. ,  of  France,  died  July  10,  1559, 
and  the  Dauphin  succeeding  his  father,  as 
Francis  II. ,  Mary  became  Queen  of  France, 
as  well  as  Scotland,  and  retained  that  po-  ~ 
sition  until  the  death  of  her  husband,  on 
the  5th  of  December,  1560.  During  this  short  reign 
she  was  practically  the  head  of  the  government, 
through  her  influence  over  her  pliable  husband, 
and  being  intensely  Catholic  herself,  that  party  pre- 
dominated in  all  the  affairs  of  the  kingdom.  But 
after  the  death  of  her  husband  the  influence  of 
Catharine  de  Medici,  her  personal  enemy,  pre- 
dominated, and  the  situation  became  so  unpleas- 
ant for    Man-  Stuart   that    she   decided   to    lose 


no  time  in  returning  to  her  native  country. 
It  is  not  necessary  to  repeat  the  story  of  her 
unhappy  life  in  Scotland,  for  that  is  familiar  to 
all  readers  of  history.  Her  death  was  peculiarly 
tragical.  After  her  trial  and  conviction,  parlia- 
ment urged  immediate  execution,  but  Elizabetn 
seemed  reluctant  to  proceed  to  extremities,  and 
for  six  weeks  the  warrant  remained  unsigned  ;  in 
fact,  there  are  the  best  of  reasons  for  believing 
that  she  never  did  sign  it,  and  that  the  one  pur- 


MARV    STUART   IN    PRISON. 

porting  to  bear  her  signature  was  a  forger)-.  An 
attempt  to  induce  her  jailor  to  poison  the  unhappy 
queen  having  failed,  on  the  7th  of  February,  15S7, 
the  earls  of  Kent  and  Shrewsbury  proceeded  to 
Fotheringay  Castle,  and  informed  Mary  that  she 
must  prepare  to  die  the  next  morning  at  eight 
o'clock.  She  was  taken  by  surprise,  as  Eliza- 
beth's delay  in  signing  the  warrant  had  led  her 
to  hope  that  she  would  escape  the  axe  ;    but  she 


312 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


bore  herself  with  firmness  and  dignity.  She  made 
all  her  preparations  for  death  with  deliberation, 
and  at  the  appointed  time  proceeded  calmly  to  the 
scaffold,  which,  with  cruel  irony,  had  been  erected 
in  the  banqueting  hall.  She  was  denied  spiritual 
consolation  by  a  priest  of  her  own  faith,  and  was 
rudely  importuned  by  the  dean  of  Peterborough 
and  the  earl  of  Kent  to  change  her  belief :  but 
she  firmly  repulsed  their  efforts.  Her  heroic  for- 
titude did  not  fail  her  even  at  the  last  moment, 
for  when  the  executioner  struck  her  on  the  skull, 


Bedford.  Twenty-five  years  later,  her  son,  James 
I.,  caused  them  to  be  removed  to  the  chapel  of 
Henry  VII.,  in  Westminster  Abbey,  where  they 
now  rest. 


THE  CAPTAIN   AND   HIS   FATHER. 

THE    following  affecting  historical  incident  is 
recorded    by  Smollet,  the  novelist,  in    one 
of  his  inimitable  stories  : 

We  set  out  from  Glasgow,  by  the  way  of  Lan- 
ark, the  county  town  of  Clydesdale,  in  the  neigh- 

mm 


A   PIOUS    SCOTTISH    FAMILY    OF   THE    EIGHTEENTH    CENTURY. 


inflicting  a  frightful  wound,  she  did  not  shrink  or 
groan.  Two  more  blows  were  required  to  dis- 
patch her. 

After  six  months  of  contemptuous  .neglect,  her 
remains  were  buried  in  Peterborough  Cathedral, 
Elizabeth  acting  as  chief  mourner  through  Lady 


borhood  of  which  the  whole  river  Clyde,  rushing 
down  a  steep  rock,  forms  a  very  noble  and  stu- 
pendous cascade.  Xext  day  we  were  obliged  to 
halt  in  a  small  borough  until  the  carriage,  which 
had  received  some  damage,  should  be  repaired  ; 
and  here  we  met  with  an  incident  which  warmly 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


313 


interested  the  benevolent  spirit  of  Mr.  Bramble. 
As  we  stood  at  the  window  of  an  inn  that  fronted 
the  public  prison,  a  person  arrived  on  horseback, 
genteelly  though  plainly  dressed  in  a  blue  frock, 
with  his  own  hair  cut  short,  and  a  gold-laced  hat 
upon  his  head.  Alighting,  and  giving  his  horse 
to  the  landlord,  he  advanced  to  an  old  man  who 
was  at  work  in  paving  the  street,  and  accosted 
him  in  these  words — ■"  This  is  hard  work  for  such 
an  old  man  as  you."  So  saying,  he  took  the  instru- 
ment out  of  his  hand, 
and  began  to  thump 
the  pavement.  After 
a  few  strokes,  ' '  Have 
you  never  a  son,"  said 
he, "  to  ease  you  of  this 
labor?"  "Yes,  an' 
please  your  honor," 
replied  the  senior,  "  I 
have  three  hopeful 
lads,  but  at  present 
they  are  out  of  the 
way."  "Honor  not 
me,"  cried  the 
stranger  ;  "  it  more  be- 
comes me  to  honor 
your  gray  hairs. 
Where  are  those  sons 
you  talk  of?"  The 
ancient  pavier  said 
his  eldest  son  was  a 
captain  in  the  East 
Indies,  and  the  young- 
est had  lately  enlisted 
as  a  soldier,  in  hopes 
of  prospering  like  his 
brother.  The  gentle- 
men desiring  to  know 
what  was  become    of 

the  second,  he  wiped  his  eyes,  and  owned  he  had 
taken  upon  him  his  old  father's  debts,  for  which 
he  was  now  in  the  prison  hard  by. 

The  traveller  made  three  quick  steps  towards 
the  jail ;  then  turning  short,  "  Tell  me,"  said  he, 
' '  has  that  unnatural  captain  sent  you  nothing  to  re- 
lieve your  distresses  ?"  "  Call  him  not  unnatural, ' ' 
replied  the  other,  "  God's  blessings  be  upon  him  ! 
he  sent  me  a  great  deal  of  monej',  but  I  made  bad 
use  of  it  ;  I  lost  it  by  being  security  for  a  gentle- 
man that  was  my  landlord,  and  was  stripped  of 
all  I  had  in  the  world  besides."    At  that  instant  a 


young  man  thrusting  out  his  head  and  neck  be- 
tween two  bars  in  the  prison-window,  exclaimed, 
' '  Father  !  father  !  if  my  brother  William  is  in  life, 
that's  he."  "I  am!  I  am  !"  cried  the  stranger, 
clasping  the  old  man  in  his  arms,  and  shedding  a 
flood  of  tears,  "  I  am  your  son  Willy,  sure 
enough  ! ' '  Before  the  father,  who  was  quite  con- 
founded, could  make  any  return  to  this  tender- 
ness, a  decent  old  women,  bolting  out  from  the 
door  of  a  poor  habitation,  cried,  "Where  is  my 


A    RUI5AI,   WEDDING   IN  SCOTLAND    IN   THE    EIGHTEENTH    CENTURY. 

bairn?  where  is  my  dear  Willy?"  The  Captain 
no  sooner  beheld  her  than  he  quitted  his  father, 
and  ran  to  her  embrace. 

I  can  assure  you,  my  uncle  who  saw  and  heard 
everything  that  passed,  was  as  much  moved  as 
any  one  of  the  parties  concerned  in  this  pathetic 
recognition.  He  sobbed,  and  wept,  and  clapped 
his  hands,  and  hollowed,  and  finally  ran  down 
into  the  street.  By  this  time  the  captain  had  re- 
tired with  his  parents,  and  all  the  inhabitants  of 
the  place  were  assembled  at  the  door,  Mr. 
Bramble,  nevertheless,  pressed  through  the  crowd, 


314 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


and  entering  the  house,  "Captain,"  said  he,  "I 
beg  the  favour  of  your  acquaintance.  I  would 
have  travelled  a  hundred  miles  to  see  this  affect- 
ing scene  ;  and  I  shall  think  myself  happy  if  you 
and  your  parents  will  dine  with  ine  at  the  public 
house. ' '  The  captain  thanked  him  for  his  kind 
invitation,  which  he  said  he  would  accept  with 
pleasure  ;  but  in  the  mean  time  he  could  not  think 
of  eating  or  drinking  while  his  poor  brother  was 
in  trouble.  He  forthwith  deposited  a  sum  equal 
to  the  debt  in  the  hands  of  the  magistrate,  wTho 
ventured  to  set  his  brother  at  liberty  without  fur- 
ther process  ;  and  then  the  whole  family  repaired 
to  the  inn  with  my  uncle,  attended  by  the  crowd, 
the  individuals  of  which  shook  their  townsman 
by  the  hand,  while  he  returned  their  caresses 
without  the  least  sign  of  pride  or  affectation. 

The  honest  favourite  of  fortune,  whose  name 
was  Brown,  told  my  uncle  that  he  had  been  bred 
a  weaver,  and  about  eighteen  years  ago  had,  from 
a  spirit  of  idleness  and  dissipation,  enlisted  as  a 
soldier  in  the  service  of  the  East  India  Company  ; 
that  in  the  course  of  duty  he  had  the  good  fortune 
to  attract  the  notice  and  approbation  of  Lord 
Clive,  who  preferred  him  from  one  step  to  an- 
•  other  till  he  had  attained  the  rank  of  captain  and 
pavmaster  to  the  regiment,  in  which  capacities 
he  had  honestly  amassed  above  twelve  thousand 
pounds,  and  at  the  peace  resigned  his  commis- 
sion. He  had  sent  several  remittances  to  his 
father,  who  received  the  first  only,  consisting  of 
one  hundred  pounds  ;  the  second  had  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  a  bankrupt ;  and  the  third  had  been 
consigned  to  a  gentlemen  in  Scotland,  who  died 
before  it  arrived,  so  it  still  remained  to  be  ac- 
counted for  by  his  executors.  He  now  presented 
the  old  man  with  fifty  pounds  for  his  present  oc- 
casions, over  and  above  bank  notes  for  one  hun- 
dred, which  he  had  deposited  for  his  brother's 
release.  He  brought  along  with  him  a  deed, 
readj'  executed,  by  which  he  settled  a  perpetuity 
of  fourscore  pounds  upon  his  parents,  to  be  in- 
herited by  the  other  two  soiu  after  their  decease. 
He  promised  to  purchase  a  commission  for  his 
youngest  brother  ;  to  take  the  other  as  his  own 
partner  in  a  manufacture  which  he  intends  to  set 
up  to  give  employment  and  bread  to  the  industri- 
ous ;  and  to  give  five  hundred  pounds,  by  way  of 
dower,  to  his  sister,  who  had  married  a  farmer  in 
poor  circumstances.   Finally,  he  gave  fifty  pounds 


to  the  poor  of  the  town  where  he  was  born,  and 
feasted  all  the  inhabitants  without  exception. 


A  FRENCH  PEASANT'S  SUPPER. 
BY   LAWRENCE  STERNE. 

A  SHOE  coming  loose  from  the  fore-foot  of 
the  thill-horse,  at  the  beginning  of  the  as- 
cent of  Mount  Taurira,  the  postilion  dismounted, 
twisted  the  shoe  off,  and  put  it  in  his  pocket.  As 
the  ascent  was  of  five  or  six  miles,  and  that  horse 
our  main  dependence,  I  made  a  point  of  having 
the  shoe  fastened  on  again  as  well  as  we  could ; 
but  the  postilion  had  thrown  away  the  nails,  and 
the  hammer  in  the  chaise-box  being  of  no  great 
use  without  them,  I  submitted  to  go  on.  He  had 
not  mounted  half  a  mile  higher,  when,  coming  to 
a  flint}-  piece  of  road,  the  poor  devil  lost  a  second 
shoe,  and  from  off  his  other  fore-foot.  I  then  got 
out  of  the  chaise  in  good  earnest ;  and  seeing  a 
house  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  the  left  hand, 
with  a  great  deal  to  do  I  prevailed  upon  the  pos- 
tilion to  turn  up  to  it.  The  look  of  the  house, 
and  of  everything  about  it,  as  we  drew  nearer, 
soon  reconciled  me  to  the  disaster.  It  was  a  little 
farm-house,  surrounded  with  about  twenty  acres 
of  vineyard,  about  as  much  corn  ;  and  close  to 
the  house  on  one  side  was  a  potagerie  of  an  acre 
and  a-half,  full  of  everything  which  could  make 
plenty  in  a  French  peasant's  house  ;  and  on  the 
other  side  was  a  little  wood,  which  furnished 
wherewithal  to  dress  it.  It  was  about  eight  in  the 
evening  when  I  got  to  the  house  ;  so  I  left  the 
postilion  to  manage  his  point  as  he  could,  and  for 
mine,  I  walked  directly  into  the  house. 

The  family  consisted  of  an  old  grayheaded  man 
and  his  wife,  with  five  or  six  sons  and  sons-in-law 
and  their  several  wives,  and  a  joyous  genealogy 
out  of  them.  They  were  all  sitting  down  together 
to  their  lentil-soup  ;  a  large  wheaten  loaf  was  in 
the  middle  of  the  table  ;  and  a  flagon  of  wine  at 
each  end  of  it  promised  joy  through  the  stages 
of  the  repast ;  'twas  a  feast  of  love.  The  old  man 
rose  up  to  meet  me,  and  with  a  respectful  cordial- 
ity would  have  me  sit  down  at  the  table  ;  ray 
heart  was  set  down  the  moment  I  entered  the 
room,  so  I  sat  down  at  once  like  a  son  of  the 
family  ;  and  to  invest  myself  in  the  character  as 
speedily  as  I  could,  I  instantly  borrowed  the  old 
man's  knife,  and  taking  up  the  loaf,  cut  myself  a 
hearty  luncheon  ;  and  as  I  did  it,   I  saw  a  testi- 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S    HISTORY. 


mony  in  every  eye,  not  only  of  an  honest  wel- 
come, but  of  a  welcome  mixed  with  thanks  that 
I  had  not  seemed  to  doubt  it.  Was  it  this,  or  tell 
me,  Nature,  what  else  it  was,  that  made  this  morsel 


hour  ?     If  the  supper  was  to  my  taste,   the  grace 
which  followed  it  was  much  more  so. 

When  supper  was  over,   the  old  man  gave  a 
knock  upon  the  table  with  the  haft  of  his  knife, 


A.   FRENCH    PEASANT   FAMILY   OF  THE    EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY. 

so  sweet :  and  to  what  magic  I  owe  it,  that  the      to  bid  them  prepare  for  the  dance.     The  moment 


draught  I  took  of   their  flagon  was  so  delicious 
with  it,  that  they  remain  upon  my  palate  to  this 


the  signal  was  given,  the  women  and  girls  ran  all 
together  into   a  back  apartment  to  tie    up  their 


$16    THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


hair,  and  the  young  men  to  the  door  to  wash  their 
faces  and  change  their  sabots  ;  and  in  three  min- 
utes every  soul  was  ready,  upon  a  little  esplanade 
before  the  house,  to  begin.  The  old  man  and  his 
wife  came  out  last,  and  placing  me  betwixt  them, 
sat  down  upon  a  sofa  of  turf  by  the  door.  The 
old  man  had  some  fifty  years  ago  been  no  mean 
performer  upon  the  vielle  ;  and  at  the  age  he  was 
then  of,  touched  it  well  enough  for  the  purpose. 
His  wife  sung  now  and  then  a  little  to  the  tune, 
then  intermitted,  and  joined  her  old  man  again  as 
their  children  and  grandchildren  danced  before 
them. 

It  was  not  till  the  middle  of  the  second  dance, 
when,  for  some  pauses  in  the  movement,  wherein 
they  all  seemed  to  look  up,  I  fancied  I  could  dis- 
tinguish an  elevation  of  spirit  different  from  that 
which  is  the  cause  or  the  effect  of  simple  jollity. 
In  a  word,  I  thought  I  beheld  Religion  mixing 
in  the  dance  ;  but  as  I  had  never  seen  her  so  en- 
gaged, I  should  have  looked  upon  it  now  as  one 
of  the  illusions  of  an  imagination  which  is  eter- 
nally misleading  me,  had  not  the  old  man,  as  soon 
as  the  dance  ended,  said  that  this  was  their  con- 
stant way  ;  and  that  all  his  life  long  he  had  made 
it  a  rule,  after  supper  was  over,  to  call  out  his 
family  to  dance  and  rejoice  ;  believing,  he  said, 
that  a  cheerful  and  contented  mind  was  the  best 
sort  of  thanks  to  Heaven  that  an  illiterate  peasant 
could  pay.     Or  a  learned  prelate  either,  said  I. 


CHARACTER  OF  JULIUS  CffiSAR. 
/T.KSAR  was  endowed  with  every  great  and 
\f>  noble  quality  that  could  exalt  human  nature, 
and  give  a  man  the  ascendant  in  society  :  formed  to 
excel  in  peace,  as  well  as  in  war  ;  provident  in  coun- 
sel :  fearless  in  action  ;  and  executing  what  he  had 
resolved  with  amazing  celerity  ;  generous  beyond 
measure  to  his  friends  ;  placable  to  his  enemies  ; 
and  for  parts,  learning,  eloquence,  scarce  inferior 
to  any  man.  His  orations  were  admired  for  two 
qualities  which  are  seldom  found  together — 
strength  and  elegance.  Cicero  ranks  him  among 
the  greatest  orators  that  Rome  ever  bred  ;  and 
Ouintilian  says,  that  he  spoke  with  the  same  force 
with  which  he  fought  ;  and  if  he  had  devoted 
himself  to  the  bar,  would  have  been  the  only 
man  capable  of  rivalling  Cicero.  Xor  was  he  a 
master  only  of  the  politer  arts  ;  but  conversant 
also  with  the  most  abstruse  and  critical  parts  of 
learning  ;  and,  among  other  works  which  he  pub- 


lished, addressed  two  books  to  Cicero  on  the 
analogy  of  language,  or  the  art  of  speaking  and 
writing  correctly.  He  was  a  most  liberal  patron 
of  wit  and  learning  wheresoever  they  were  found; 
and  out  of  his  love  of  those  talents,  would  readily 
pardon  those  who  had  employed  them  against 
himself;  rightly  judging  that  by  making  such 
men  his  friends,  he  should  draw  praises  from  the 
same  fountain  from  which  he  had  been  aspersed. 
His  capital  passions  were  ambition  and  love  of 
pleasure,  which  he  indulged  in  their  turns  to  the 
greatest  excess  ;  j-et  the  first  was  always  predomi- 
nant, to  which  he  could  easily  sacrifice  all  the 
charms  of  the  second,  and  draw  pleasure  even 
from  toils  and  dangers  when  they  ministered  to  his 
glory.  For  he  thought  Tyranny,  as  Cicero  says, 
the  greatest  of  goddesses  ;  and  he  had  frequently 
in  his  mouth  a  verse  of  Euripides,  which  expressed 
the  image  of  his  soul,  that,  if  right  and  justice 
were  ever  to  be  violated,  the}-  were  to  be  violated 
for  the  sake  of  reigning.  This  was  the  chief  end 
and  purpose  of  his  life  ;  the  scheme  that  he  had 
formed  from  his  early  youth  ;  so  that,  as  Cato 
truly  declared  of  him,  he  came  with  sobriety  and 
meditation  to  the  subversion  of  the  republic.  He 
used  to  say  that  there  were  two  things  necessary 
to  acquire  and  support  power — soldiers  and  money; 
which  yet  depended  mutually  upon  each  other. 
With  money,  therefore,  he  provided  soldiers,  and 
with  soldiers  extorted  money  ;  and  was  of  all 
men  the  most  rapacious  in  plundering  both  friends 
and  foes,  sparing  neither  prince,  nor  state,  nor 
temple,  nor  even  private  persons  who  were  known 
to  possess  any  share  of  treasure.  His  great 
abilities  would  necessarily  have  made  him  one  of 
the  first  citizens  of  Rome  ;  but  disdaining  the 
condition  of  a  subject,  he  could  never  rest  till  he 
made  himself  a  monarch.  In  acting  this  last  part, 
his  usual  prudence  seemed  to  fail  him,  as  if  the 
height  to  which  he  was  mounted  had  turned  his 
head  and  made  him  giddy  ;  for,  by  a  vain  osten- 
tation of  his  power,  he  destroyed  the  stability  of 
it  ;  and  as  men  shorten  life  by  living  too  fast,  so, 
by  an  intemperance  of  reigning,  he  brought  his 
reiam  to  a  violent  end. 


MAGNIFICENCE  OF    THE  ANCIENT    CALIPHS. 

ALMAXSOR,  the  brother  and  successor  of 
Saffah,  laid  the  foundations  of  Bagdad  ('a.  d. 
762"),  the  imperial  seat  of  his  posterity  during  a 
reign  of  five  hundred  years.     The  chosen  spot  is 


ALMANSOR    AND    HIS  COURT. 


(317) 


318    THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


on  the  eastern  bank  of  the  Tigris,  about  fifteen 
miles  above  the  ruins  of  Modain  ;  the  double  wall 
was  of  a  circular  form  ;  and  such  was  the  rapid 
increase  of  a  capital  now  dwindled  to  a  provincial 
town,  that  the  funeral  of  a  popular  saint  might  be 
attended  by  eight  hundred  thousand  men  and 
sixty  thousand  women  of  Bagdad  and  the  adja- 
cent villages.  In  this  city  of  peace,  amidst  the 
riches  of  the  east,  the  Abbassides  soon  disdained 
the  abstinence  and  frugality  of  the  first  caliphs, 
and  aspired  to  emulate  the  magnificence  of  the 
Persian  kings.  After  his  wars  and  buildings, 
Almausor  left  behind  him  in  gold  and  silver  about 
thirty  millions  sterling  ;  and  this  treasure  was 
•exhausted  in  a  few  years  by  the  vices  or  virtues 
of  his  children.  His  sou  Mahadi,  in  a  single  pil- 
grimage to  Mecca,  expended  six  millions  of  dinars 
of  gold.  A  pious  and  charitable  motive  may 
sanctify  the  foundation  of  cisterns  and  caravan- 
saries, which  he  distributed  along  a  measured  road 
of  seven  hundred  miles  ;  but  his  train  of  camels, 
laden  with  snow,  could  serve  only  to  astonish  the 
natives  of  Arabia,  and  to  refresh  the  fruits  and 
liquors  of  the  royal  banquet.  The  courtiers 
would  surely  praise  the  liberality  of  his  grandson 
Almamon,  who  gave  away  four-fifths  of  the  income 
of  a  province — a  sum  of  two  millions  four  hun- 
dred thousand  gold  dinars — before  he  drew  his 
foot  from  the  stirrup.  At  the  nuptials  of  the  same 
prince,  a  thousand  pearls  of  the  largest  size  were 
showered  on  the  head  of  the  bride,  and  a  lottery 
of  lands  and  houses  displayed  the  capricious 
bounty  of  fortune.  The  glories  of  the  court  were 
brightened  rather  than  impaired  in  the  decline  of 
the  empire,  and  a  Greek  ambassador  might  ad- 
mire or  pity  the  magnificence  of  the  feeble  Moc- 
tader.  "  The  caliph's  whole  army,"  says  the  his- 
torian Abulfeda,  "  both  horse  and  foot,  was  under 
arms,  which  together  made  a  body  of  one  hun- 
dred and  sixty  thousand  men.  His  state-officers, 
the  favorite  slaves,  stood  near  him  in  splendid 
apparel,  their  belts  glittering  with  gold  and  gems. 
Near  them  were  seven  thousand  eunuchs,  four 
thousand  of  them  white,  the  remainder  black. 
The  porters  or  doorkeepers  were  in  number  seven 
hundred.  Barges  and  boats,  with  the  most  superb 
decorations,  were  seen  swimming  upon  the  Tigris. 
Nor  was  the  place  itself  less  splendid,  in  which 
were  hung  up  thirty-eight  thousand  pieces  of 
tapestry,  twelve  thousand  five  hundred  of  which 
were  of  silk  embroidered  with  gold.     The  carpets 


on  "the  floor  were  twenty-two  thousand.  A  hun- 
dred lions  were  brought  out,  with  a  keeper  to 
each  lion.  Among  the  other  spectacles  of  rare 
and  stupendous  luxury,  was  a  tree  of  gold  and 
silver  spreading  into  eighteen  large  branches,  on 
which,  and  on  the  lesser  boughs,  sat  a  variety  of 
birds  made  of  the  same  precious  metals,  as  well 
as  the  leaves  of  the  tree.  While  the  machinery 
affected  spontaneous  motions,  the  several  birds 
warbled  their  natural  harmony.  Through  this 
scene  of  magnificence,  the  Greek  ambassador  was 
led  by  the  vizier  to  the  foot  of  the  caliph's  throne. ' ' 
In  the  west,  the  Ommiades  of  Spain  supported, 
with  equal  pomp,  the  title  of  commander  of  the 
faithful.  Three  miles  from  Cordova,  in  honor 
of  his  favourite  sultana,  the  third  and  greatest  of 
the  Abdalrahmans  constructed  the  city,  palace, 
and  gardens  of  Zehra.  Twenty-five  years,  and 
above  three  millions  sterling,  were  employed  by 
the  founder  :  his  liberal  taste  invited  the  artists 
of  Constantinople,  the  most  skilful  sculptors  and 
architects  of  the  age  ;  and  the  buildings  were  sus- 
tained or  adorned  by  twelve  hundred  columns  of 
Spanish  and  African,  of  Greek  and  Italian  marble. 
The  hall  of  audience  was  incrusted  with  gold  and 
pearls,  and  a  great  bason  in  the  centre  was  sur- 
rounded with  the  curious  and  costly  figures  of 
birds  and  quadrupeds.  In  a  lofty  pavilion  of  the 
gardens,  one  of  these  basins  and  fountains,  so 
delightful  in  a  sultry  climate,  was  replenished  not 
with  water  but  with  the  purest  quicksilver.  The 
seraglio  of  Abdalrahman,  his  wives,  concubines, 
and  black  eunuchs,  amounted  to  six  thousand 
three  hundred  persons  ;  and  he  was  attended  to 
the  field  by  a  guard  of  twelve  thousand  horse, 
whose  belts  and  scimitars  were  studded  with  gold. 
In  a  private  condition,  our  desires  are  perpe- 
tually repressed  by  poverty  and  subordination  ;  but 
the  lives  and  labors  of  millions  are  devoted  to 
the  service  of  a  despotic  prince,  whose  laws  are 
blindly  obeyed,  and  whose  wishes  are  instantly 
gratified.  Our  imagination  is  dazzled  by  the 
splendid  picture  ;  and  whatever  may  be  the  cool 
dictates  of  reason,  there  are  few  among  us  who 
would  obstinately  refuse  a  trial  of  the  comforts 
and  the  cares  of  royalty.  It  ma}-  therefore  be  of 
some  use  to  borrow  the  experience  of  the  same 
Abdalrahman,  whose  magnificence  has  perhaps 
excited  our  admiration  and  envy,  and  to  tran- 
scribe an  authentic  memorial  which  was  found  in 
the  closet  of  the  deceased  caliph  :     "I  have  now 


FAVORITE  SULTANA   OF   ABDALRAHMAN. 


(319) 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


reigned  above  fifty  years  in  victory  or  peace  ;  be- 
loved by  my  subjects,  dreaded  by  my  enemies, 
and  respected  by  my  allies.  Ricbes  and  honors, 
power  and  pleasure',  have  waited  on  niy  call,  nor 
does  an}-  earthly  blessing  appear  to  have  been 
wanting  to  my  felicity.  In  this  situation  I  have 
diligently  numbered  the  days  of  pure  and  genu- 
ine happiness  which  have  fallen  to  my  lot  ;  they 
amount  to  fourteen.  O  man  !  place  not  thy  con- 
fidence in  this  present  world." 


WHITEFIELD   AND  WESLEY. 

/70XXECTED  with  the  English  establishment, 
\^  yet  ultimately  separating  from  it,  were  those 
two  remarkable  men,  Whitefield  and  Wesley. 
Both  were  highly  useful  in  their  day  and  genera- 
tion, and  the}-  enjoyed  a  popularity  rarely  at- 
tained by  divines.  George  Whitefield  was  born 
in  Gloucester  in  17 14.  He  took  orders,  and 
preached  in  London  with  astonishing  success. 
He  made  several  voyages  to  America,  where  he 
was  equally  popular.  Whitefield  adopted  the 
Calvinistic  doctrines,  and  preached  them  with  in- 
cessant activity,  and  an  eloquence  unparalleled 
in  its  effects.  As  a  popular  orator  he  was  passion- 
ate and  vehement,  wielding  his  audiences  almost 
at  will,  and  so  fascinating  in  his  style  and  manner, 
that  Hume  the  historian  said  he  was  worth  travel- 
ling twenty  miles  to  hear.  He  died  in  Newbury, 
Xew  England,  in  1770.  His  writings  are  tame 
and  commonplace,  and  his  admirers  regretted  that 
he  should  have  injured  his  fame  by  resorting  to 
publication. 

John  Wesley  was  more  learned,  and  in  all  re- 
spects better  fitted  to  become  the  leader  and 
founder  of  a  sect.  His  father  was  rector  of  Ep- 
worth,  in  Lincolnshire,  where  John  was  born  in 
1703.  He  was  educated  at  Oxford,  where  he  and 
his  brother  Charles,  and  a  few  other  students, 
lived  in  a  regular  system  of  pious  study  and  dis- 
cipline, whence  they  were  denominated  Method- 
ists. After  officiating  a  short  time  as  curate  to 
his  father,  the  young  enthusiast  set  off  as  a  mis- 
sionary to  Georgia,  where  he  remained  about  two 
years.  Shortly  after  his  return  in  173S,  he  com- 
menced field-preaching,  occasionally  travelling 
through  every  part  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland, 
where  he  established  congregations  of  Methodists. 
Thousands  flocked  to  his  standard.  The  doc- 
trine of  Wesley  was  universal  redemption,  as 
contradistinguished  from  the  Calvinistic  doctrine 


of  particular  redemption,  and  his  proselytes  were, 
by  the  act  of  conversion,  made  regenerate  men. 
The  Methodists  also  received  lay  converts  as 
preachers,  who,  by  their  itinerant  ministrations 
and  unquenchable  enthusiasm,  contributed  ma- 
terially to  the  extension  of  their  societies.  Wes- 
ley continued  writing,  preaching,  and  travelling, 
till  he  was  eighty-eight  years  of  age  ;  his  apostolic 
earnestness  and  venerable  appearance  procured 
for  him  everywhere  profound  respect.  He  had 
preached  about  forty  thousand  sermons,  and  tra- 
velled three  hundred  thousand  miles.  His  highly 
useful  and  laborious  career  was  terminated  on  the 
2d  of  March,  1791.  His  body  lay  in  a  kind  of 
state  in  his  chapel  at  Loudon  the  day  previous  to 
his  interment,  dressed  in  his  clerical  habit,  with 
gown,  cassock,  and  band  ;  the  old  clerical  cap  on 
his  head,  a  Bible  in  one  hand,  and  a  white  hand- 
kerchief in  the  other.  The  funeral  service  was 
read  by  one  of  his  old  preachers.  When  he  came 
to  that  part  of  the  service,  "  Forasmuch  as  it  hath 
pleased  God  to  take  unto  himself  the  soul  of  our 
dear  brother"  his  voice  changed,  and  he  substi- 
tuted the  word  father ;  and  the  feeling  with  which 
he  did  this  was  such,  that  the  congregation,  who 
were  shedding  silent  tears,  burst  at  once  into  loud 
weeping. 


A    LADY'S    CHAMBER    IN    THE    THIRTEENTH 
CENTURY. 

A  SILVER  lamp,  richly  fretted,  suspended 
from  the  raftered  roof,  gleamed  faintly  on 
the  splendid  bed.  The  curtains  were  of  silk,  and 
the  coverlet  of  velvet,  faced  with  miniver  ;  gilded 
coronals  and  tufts  of  plumage  shed  alternate 
gleam  and  shadow  over  ever}-  angle  of  the 
canopy  ;  and  tapestry  of  silk  and  silver  covered 
even-  compartment  of  the  walls,  save  where  the 
uncouthly-eonstructed  doors  and  windows  broke 
them  into  angles,  irreconcilable  alike  to  every 
rule  of  symmetry  or  purpose  of  accommodation. 
Xear  the  ample  hearth,  stored  with  blazing  wood, 
were  placed  a  sculptured  desk,  furnished  with  a 
missal  and  breviary  gorgeously  illuminated,  and 
a  black  marble  tripod  supporting  a  vase  of  holy 
water  :  certain  amulets,  too,  lay  on  the  hearth, 
placed  there  by  the  care  of  Dame  Marguerite, 
some  in  the  shape  of  relics,  and  others  in  less 
consecrated  forms,  on  which  the  lady  was  often 
observed  by  her  attendants  to  look  somewhat  dis- 
resrardfullv.     The  srreat  door  of  the  chamber  was 


BEAUTIFUL   IN    THE    WORLD'S   HISTORY, 


closed  by  the  departing  damsels  carefully  ;  and 
the  rich  sheet  of  tapestry  dropt  over  it,  whose 
hushful  sweeping  on  the  floor  seemed  like  the 
wish  for  a  deep  repose  breathed  from  a  thing  in- 
animate. The  castle  was  still,  the  silver  lamp 
twinkled  silently  and  dimly  ;  the  perfumes,  burn- 
ing in  small  silver  vases  round  the  chamber,  began 
to  abate  their 
gleams  and 
odours;  the 
scented  waters, 
scattered  on  the 
rushes  with 
which  the  floor 
was  strewn, 
flagged  and 
failed  in  their 
delicious  tribute 
to  the  sense  ;  the 
bright  moon, 
pouring  its 
glories  through 
the  uncurtained 
but  richly  tinted 
casement,  shed 
its  borrowed 
hues  of  crim- 
son, amber,  and 
purple  on  cur- 
tain and  canopy, 
as  in  defiance  of 
the  artificial 
light  that 
gleamed  so 
feebly  within 
the  chamber. 


tory  of   his   reign,   has   collected    from  a  variety 
ol  authorities : 

"  it  was  his  general  custom  to  rise  at  five  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  and  sometimes  earlier.  He  com- 
monly dressed  his  hair  himseli.  and  seldom  em- 
ployed more  than  two  minutes  for  that  purpose. 
After  he  was  dressed,  the  adjutant  oi  the  first  bat- 


PRIVATE  LIFE 
OF  FREDERIC 
THE  GREAT. 

THE  life  of 
Frederic 
the  Great  of 
Prussia  was  one 
of  the  utmost 
regularity    and 

activity.  A  more  complete  notion  will  be  ob- 
tained of  the  management  by  which  he  contrived 
to  make  so  much  use  of  his  time  from  the  fol- 
lowing interesting  account  of  his  daily  occupa- 
tions, which  Dr.  Towers,  who  has  written  a  his- 

21 


A    WDV    OF   RANK   DURING   THK   THIRTEENTH    CfiNTURY. 

talion  of  his  guards  brought  him  a  list  of  all  the 
persons  that  were  arrived  at  Potsdam,  or  departed 
from  thence,  and  an  account  of  whatever  had  oc- 
curred in  the  garrison.  When  he  had  delivered 
his  orders  to  this  officer,  he  retired  into  an  innei 


M 


e 

H 

<: 
w 
S 
o 

w 

s 

2 

K 
Q 
W 
« 


(322) 


THE  BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


323 


cabinet,  where  he  employed  himself  in  private  till 
seven  o'clock.  He  then  went  into  another  apart- 
ment, where  he  drank  coffee  or  chocolate  ;  and 
here  he  found  upon  the  table  all  the  letters,  ad- 
dressed to  him  from  Potsdam,  Berlin,  or  any  other 
parts  of  his  dominions.  Foreign  letters  were 
placed  upon  a  separate  table.  After  reading  all 
these  letters  he  wrote  hints  or  notes  in  the  margin 
of  those  which  his  secretaries  were  to  answer ;  and 
then,  returning  into  the  inner  cabinet,  carried  with 
him  such  as  he  meant  to  write  or  dictate  an  an- 
swer to  himself.  Here  he  employed  himself  till 
nine  o'clock  with  one  of  his  private  secretaries. 
He  then  returned  back  again  into  his  former  apart- 
ment, where  he  was  attended  by  three  secretaries, 
each  of  whom  gave  him  an  account  of  what  he 
had  done  ;  after  which  the  king  delivered  his 
orders  to  them,  with  the  letters  they  were  to  an- 
swer. None  of  these  answers,  however,  were  sent 
off  till  they  had  been  read,  and  many  of  them 
signed  by  the  king.  At  ten  o'clock  the  generals 
•"'ho  were  about  his  person,  whom  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  send  for  in  their  turn,  attended  him  to  his 
closet,  where  he  conversed  with  them  on  the  news 
of  the  day,  politics,  tactics,  and  other  subjects ; 
and  at  this  time  he  also  gave  audience  to  such  per- 
sons as  had  received  previous  notice  to  attend. 
At  eleven  o'clock  he  mounted  his  horse  and  rode 
to  the  parade,  where  he  reviewed  and  exercised 
his  regiment  of  guards.  He  afterwards  wTalked 
for  some  time  in  the  garden,  with  his  generals  and 
the  rest  of  the  company  whom  he  had  invited  to 
dine  with  him.  At  one  o'clock  he  sat  down  to 
dinner,  and  his  company  generally  consisted  of 
the  princes  his  brothers,  some  of  his  general  offi- 
cers, some  of  the  officers  of  his  regiment  of  guards, 
and  one  or  two  of  his  chamberlains.  He  had  no 
carver,  but  did  the  honors  of  the  table  himself, 
like  a  private  gentleman.  After  dinner  he  gener- 
ally conversed  with  some  of  his  guests  for  about  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  walking  about  the  room.  He 
then  retired  into  his  private  apartment,  making 
low  bows  to  his  company.  He  remained  in  pri- 
vate till  five  o'clock,  when  his  reader  waited  on  him. 
His  reading  lasted  about  two  hours  ;  and  this  was 
succeeded  bjr  a  concert,  in  which  he  himself  was  a 
performer  on  the  flute,  and  which  lasted  till  nine. 
When  the  concert  was  over,  he  was  attended  by 
such  wits  or  favorites  as  he  had  invited.  With  these 
he  supped  at  half  an  hour  after  nine,  and  his 
company   seldom  consisted  of  more  than   eight 


persons,  the  king  himself  included.    At  twelve  he 
went  to  bed." 

The  literary  works  of  Frederic  will  be  at  least 
allowed  to  show  great  industry,  when  it  is  stated 
that  they  extend,  in  the  most  complete  edition,  to 
no  fewer  than  twenty-five  octavo  volumes — quite 
a  wonderful  amount  of  authorship,  certainly,  for 
one  who  led  so  busy  a  life,  and  strikingly  illustra- 
tive of  what  may  be  done  by  the  economical  em 
ployment  even  of  the  merest  odds  and  ends  of 
time  ;  for,  compared  to  the  leisure  which  many  a 
student  enjoys,  such  must  be  considered  the  very 
few  hours  every  day  which  were  the  utmost  that 
Frederic  could,  by  possibility,  have  given  to 
study. 


VOLTAIRE  AND  THE  MISCHIEVOUS  PAGE. 

VOLTAIRE,  being  once  on  a  visit  to  Frederick 
the  Great,  was  attended  at  dinner  by  a 
page,  to  whom  he  called  for  something  which  the 
page  either  could  not,  or  probably  would  not, 
immediately  execute ;  for  his  illiberality  and  am- 
biguous character  made  him  disliked  by  every 
one  in  court.  Offended  at  the  tardiness  of  the 
page,  Voltaire  immediately  flew  into  a  violent 
passion,  as  usual,  to  which  he  gave  vent  by  load- 
ing him  with  a  volley  of  opprobrious  names,  par- 
ticularly with  that  of  Pomeranian  clown. 

The  page,  who  dared  not,  in  the  presence  of 
the  king,  express  his  resentment  at  the  unman- 
nerly insult  of  the  Frenchman,  in  the  mean  time 
was  determined  to  watch  an  opportunity  of  mak- 
ing him  feel  his  just  vengeance.  The  following 
day  the  king  undertook  a  journey,  on  which  he 
was  accompanied  by  Voltaire  and  another  gentle- 
man of  the  bed-chamber.  The  page,  having 
received  orders  to  attend,  rode  with  some  others 
of  the  household,  in  order  to  prepare  accommo- 
dations on  the  road.  In  the  first  carriage  sat 
the  king  with  one  of  his  officers  ef  state,  and, 
in  the  second,  Voltaire  on  the  right  hand,  and 
the  other  gentleman  of  the  bed-chamber  on  the 
left.  Previously  to  their  arrival  at  a  village, 
where  they  intended  to  take  a  breakfast,  and 
where  the  carriages  had  to  stop  before  the  house, 
the  page  had  informed  a  number  of  peasants 
assembled  there  that  in  the  first  carriage  was  the 
king ;  but  that  in  the  second  was  the  king's 
favorite  monkey,  dressed  like  a  gentleman,  seated 
aside  of  his  attendant ;  that  the  monkey  had  the 
vicious  habit  of  teasing  persons  whenever  he  was 


wm%rwi. 


1  j   -     ;     mk 

iSHIil 

SSfiii 


s 

< 
a 
to 

H 
O 
f- 

< 


J    3 


z 
o 
u 


(324) 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


suffered  to  leave  the  coach,  when  he  would  often 
fly  at  their  faces  and  belabor  them  most  unmer- 
cifully. In  order  to  avoid  this,  he  desired  that 
some  of  them  might  attend  at  the  coach  door, 
and,  on  the  gentleman  to  the  left  getting  out, 
immediately  shut  it  again,  and  that,  should  he 
cut  capers,  and  endeavor  to  get  out,  they  need 
only  give  him  a  few  raps  on  his  meagre  knuckles. 
This  the  peasants  promised  to  execute  with  atten- 
tion. The  coaches  arriving  soon  after,  the  king 
alighted,  and  was  followed  by  the  gentleman  in 
the  second,  and  the  door  immediately  closed 
again.  Voltaire  endeavored  to  express  the  resent- 
ment he  felt  at  this  insult  offered  to  so  illustrious 
a  personage,  by  shaking  his  head,  and  using 
every  gesture  in  his  power  ;  but  all  was  in  vain. 
The  peasants,  who  had,  by  this  time,  collected  in 
■considerable  numbers,  and  who  all  believed  him 
to  be  a  monkey,  began  to  laugh  heartily  at  the 
trick,  and  threatened  him  with  their  sticks.  He 
began  to  rail  at  them  in  French,  which  none  of 
them  understanding,  they  only  deemed  it  a 
monkey  trick,  and  continued  to  laugh  still  more 
at  him.  The  noise  and  collection  of  so  many 
people  at  last  attracted  the  attention  of  the  king, 
so  that  he  went  to  the  window,  and  surprised  at 
the  concourse  of  people  around  the  coach  door, 
inquired  what  was  the  matter.  Being  informed 
that  it  was  Voltaire,  still  sitting  in  the  carriage 
surrounded  by  the  country  people,  he  immediately 
sent  some  of  his  attendants  for  an  explanation 
why  he  remained  in  the  carriage,  and  if  he  did 
not  intend  to  take  his  breakfast. 

With  some  difficulty  and  force  they  succeeded 
in  extricating  him  from  the  hands  of  the  peasants, 
who,  finding  that  they  no  longer  could  prevent 
the  escape  of  this  vicious  or  enraged  animal,  and 
dreading  lest  he  should  make  them  feel  his  resent- 
ment the  more  furiously,  immediately  separated 
and  fled  in  all  directions  with  the  utmost  speed, 
and  as  far  as  possible,  each  being  apprehensive 
that  the  detested  creature  might  fasten  on  his 
neck  or  bod}-,  and  ply  him  with  his  teeth  and 
claws. 

At  last  Voltaire  joined  the  company  upstairs, 
and  complained  to  his  majesty  of  the  brutality  of 
these  savage  boors.  Exasperated  on  hearing  the 
details  of  the  treatment,  the  king  immediately 
gave  orders  for  an  inquiry  into  the  motives  which 
had  induced  the  peasants  to  commit  such  an  out- 
rage. 


Some  of  the  fugitives  being  speedily  overtaken, 
the  examination  commenced,  when  the  sad  mis- 
take of  the  innocent  peasants  was  explained ; 
they  added,  that  a  gentleman  belonging  to  his 
majesty's  suite  had  occasioned  this  excess ;  and 
by  pointing  him  out  at  last,  they  proved  their 
harmless  intention.  The  king  immediately  de- 
manded to  know  why  he  had  undertaken  such  a 
trick,  and  was  frankly  informed  by  the  latter 
that  it  was  intended  as  a  retaliation  for  the  insult 
offered  to  his  countrymen  by  the  supercilious 
Frenchman,  and  to  prove  to  the  scoffer  that  the 
Germans  were  not  altogether  so  stupid  as  Voltaire 
imagined.  This  honest  confession  at  once  dis- 
armed the  king's  anger  ;  but,  to  appease  the  fury 
of  Voltaire,  he  ordered  the  page  to  be  put  under 
arrest  for  a  few  hours,  and  often  indulged  in  a 
smile  on  recollecting  this  ludicrous  adventure. 

Subsequently  this  same  page,  on  account  of 
some  mischievous  trick,  was  dismissed  from  the 
household  service  of  the  king,  and  having  nothing 
else  to  do,  he  enlisted  in  the  guard  ;  but  the  easy  life 
that  he  had  been  accustomed  to  in  the  palace  un- 
fitted him  for  the  rigors  of  military  duty.  He  was 
stationed,  one  day,  as  a  sentinel  in  the  royal 
gardens,  where  the  king  soon  afterward  found 
him  sitting  on  a  bench  sound  asleep.  Frederick, 
with  a  resounding  rap  of  his  cane  upon  the  bench, 
awoke  the  terrified  young  soldier,  and  demanded 
why  he  was  asleep  on  his  post.  ' '  Do  you  not 
know,"  thundered  Frederick,  ''that  if  you  should 
sleep  on  your  post  in  the  presence  of  an  enemy, 
the  penalty  would  be  death?"  "Ah,  sire,"  re- 
plied the  youth,  rubbing  his  eyes,  and  coming  to 
an  awkward  ' '  present  arms ' '  in  front  of  the  king, 
' '  but  how  is  it  when  we  sleep  in  the  presence  of  a 
friend?"  The  wit  of  the  young  rascal,  in  re- 
ferring to  the  king  as  his  friend,  disarmed  Frede- 
rick's resentment,  and  he  soon  afterward  reinstated 
him  in  the  household  service. 


ANECDOTE  OF  GENERAL  MOREAU. 

7TYHEX  General  Moreau,  who  forsook  the 
VXJ  colors  of  Napoleon,  and  was  afterwards 
killed  fighting  against  his  former  commander,  in 
Germany,  was  in  the  city  of  Boston,  he  was  much 
courted  and  sought  after  as  a  lion  of  the  firs! 
quality.  On  one  occasion  he  was  invited  to  Cam- 
bridge to  attend  the  commencement  exercises.  In 
the  course  of  the  day  a  musical  society  of  under- 
graduates   sang    a    then  very-    popular  ode,  th« 


32b- 


THE  WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND  THE 


chorus  of  which  was,    ' '  To-morrow,  to-morrow, 
to-rnorrow."      Moreau,  who  was  imperfectly  ac- 


SHAKESPEARE  AND  QUEEN  ELIZABETH. 

TEEN  ELIZABETH    condescended    some- 


Qu: 
times  to  a  little  flirtation.  Shakespeare  was 
complimenting  him,  and  at  every  recurrence  of  performing  the  part  of  a  king ;  Queen  Elizabeth's 
the  burden,  which  he  interpreted,   "To  Moreau,      box  was  contiguous  to  the  stage;  she  purposely 


FREDERIC   THE   GREAT   AND  THE   SLEEPING    SENTINEL. 

to  Moreau,    to  Moreau,"     he    rose    and    bowed  dropped   her  handkerchief  upon  the    boards,  at 

gracefully  to  the  singers'   gallery,    pressing    his  the  feet  of  Shakespeare,   having  a  mind   to  try 

laced  chapeau  to  his  heart.  We  can  easily  imagine  whether  her  poet  would  stoop  from  his  assumed 

the  amusement  of  the  spectators  who  were  in  the  majesty.       She  was  mistaken.     "Take    up    our 

secret,   and   the  mortification  of  the  Frenchman  sister's  handkerchief,"  was  his  prompt  and  digni- 

xvh"T  he  discovered  his  mistake.  fied  order  to  one  of  the  actors  in  his  train. 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


'327 


CHRISTIAN  NAMES  OF  THE  PURITANS. 

THE  Puritans,  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  among 
other  objects  of  reformation  which  they  laid 
down  in  their  discipline,  as  it  was  called,  had  this 
article  :  ' '  L,et  persuasions  be  used  that  such 
names  as  do  savor  either  of  paganism  or  popery 
be  not  given  to  children,  but  principally  those 
whereof  there  are  examples  in  the  Scriptures." 
They  were  not  content  with  the  plain  scriptural 
names  of  Abraham,  Obadiah,  Zechariah,  Ruth, 
and  Rebecca  ;  they  adopted  phrases,  and  some- 
times sentences,  for  their  children,  such  as  "The 
Eord  is  near,"  "More  tryall,"  "Reformation," 
"Discipline,"  "Joy  again,"  "Sufficient,"  "From 
above,"  "Heavenly  mind,"  "Free  gifts,"  "More 
fruit, "  "  Dust, ' '  &c.  ;  and  one  of  the  Puritanical 
ministers  was  so  bigoted  in  this  respect,  that  he 
refused  to  christen  a  man's  child  because  he  in- 
sisted on  having  him  called  Richard. 

This  ridiculous  superstition  continued  to  pre- 
vail till  the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  as  may  be  seen 
by  examining  the  accounts  of  many  persons  of 
eminence,  who  were  born  about  the  period  of  the 
great  rebellion,  as,  for  instance,  Accepted  Frewen, 
Archbishop  of  York,  Offspring  Blackhall,  Bishop 
of  Exeter. 

Praise  God  Bareboiies,  a  respectable  leather- 
seller  in  Holborn,  was  one  of  the  most  active 
members  of  the  Parliament  assembled  by  Crom- 
well, and  which  took  its  denomination  from  his 
surname.  It  is  said  there  were  three  brothers  of 
this  family,  each  of  whom  had  a  sentence  to  his 
name,  viz.:  "Praise  God  Barebone,"  "Christ 
came  into  the  world  to  save,  Barebone,"  and  "  II 

Christ  had  not    died,   thou  hadst  been    d d, 

Barebone."     But  this  last  name  was  so  long,  that 
many  persons  took  the  liberty  of  abridging  it,  and 

called  the  owner  only  ' '  D d  Barebone. ' ' 

Mr.  Brome,  in  his  Travels  over  England,  gives 
the  following  list  of  a  jury  impanelled  in  Sussex 
about  the  same  time  : — 

Accepted  Trevor,  of  Horsham  ;  Redeemed 
Compton,  of  Battle  ;  Faint-not  Hewet,  of  Heath- 
field  ;  Make  Peace  Heaton,  of  Hare  ;  God-reward 
Smart,  of  Fivehurst ;  Staud-fast-on-high  Stringer, 
of  Crowhurst ;  Earth  Adams,  of  Warbleton ; 
Called  Dower,  of  the  same  ;  Fight-the-good-fight- 
of-faith  White,  of  Emer  ;  More  Fruit  Fowler,  of 
East  Hadley  ;  Hope  for  Bending,  of  the  same  ; 
Graceful  Harding,  of  Dewes  ;  Weep-not  Billing, 
of  the  same  :   Meek  Brewer,  of  Okeham. 


THE  GRAY  CHAMPION.       '        > 
BY    NATHANIEL    HAWTHORNE.' 

^■HERE  was  once  a  time  when  New  England 
W'  groaned  under  the  actual  pressure  of  heavier 
wrongs  than  those  threatened  ones  which  brought 
on  the  Revolution.  James  II.,  the  bigoted  suc- 
cessor of  Charles  the  Voluptuous,  had  annulled 
the  charters  of  all  the  colonies,  and  sent  a  harsh 
and  unprincipled  soldier  to  take  away  our  liber- 
ties and  endanger  our  religion.  The  administra- 
tion of  Sir  Edmund  Andros  lacked  scarcely  a 
single  characteristic  of  tyranny  :  a  Governor  and 
Council,  holding  office  from  the  King,  and  wholly 
independent  of  the  country  ;  laws  made  and  taxes 
levied  without  concurrence  of  the  people,  immedi- 
ate or  by  their  representatives  ;  the  rights  of 
private  citizens  violated,  and  the  titles  of  all 
landed  property  declared  void  ;  the  voice  of  com- 
plaint stifled  by  restrictions  on  the  press  ;  and 
finally,  disaffection  overawed  by  the  first  band  of 
mercenary  troops  that  ever  marched  on  our  free 
soil.  For  two  years  our  ancestors  were  kept  in 
sullen  submission,  by  that  filial  love  which  had 
invariably  secured  their  allegiance  to  the  mother 
country,  whether  its  head  chanced  to  be  Parlia- 
ment, Protector,  or  popish  Monarch.  Till  these 
evil  times,  however,  such  allegiance  had  been 
merely  nominal,  and  the  colonists  had  ruled 
themselves,  enjoying  far  more  freedom  than  is 
even  yet  the  privilege  of  the  native  subjects  of 
Great  Britain. 

At  length,  a  rumor  reached  our  shores,  that  the 
Prince  of  Orange  had  ventured  on  an  enterprise, 
the  success  of  which  would  be  the  triumph  of  civil 
and  religious  rights  and  the  salvation  of  New 
England.  It  was  but  a  doubtful  whisper  ;  it 
might  be  false,  or  the  attempt  might  fail  ;  and  in 
either  case,  the  man  that  stirred  against  King 
James  would  lose  his  head.  Still  the  intelligence 
produced  a  marked  effect.  The  people  smiled 
mysteriously  in  the  streets,  and  threw  bold 
glances  at  their  oppressors  ;  while  far  and  wide 
there  was  a  subdued  and  silent  agitation,  as  if  the 
slightest  signal  would  rouse  the  whole  land  from 
its  sluggish  despondency.  Aware  of  their  dan- 
ger, the  rulers  resolved  to  avert  it  by  an  imposing 
display  of  strength,  and  perhaps  to  confirm  their 
despotism  by  yet  harsher  measures.  One  after- 
noon in  April,  1689,  Sir  Edmund  Andros  and  his 
favorite  councillors,  being  warm  with  wine,  as- 
sembled the  red-coats  of  the  Governor's  Guard,  and 


323 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


made  their  appearance  in  the  streets  of  Boston.  tial  music  of  the  soldiers,  than  as  the  muster-call 
The  sun  was  near  setting  when  the  march  com-  to  the  inhabitants  themselves.  A  multitude,  by 
menced.  various  avenues,  assembled  in  King  street,  which 


^=r^j** 


i!*^ 


RED   COATS   OF  THE   GOVERNOR  S  GUARD. 


The   roll   of  the  drum,  at  that  unquiet  crisis,      was  destined  to  be  the  scene,  nearly  a  century  af- 
seetned   to  po  through  the  streets  less  as  the  mar-      terwards,  of  another  encounter  between  the  troops 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


S29 


of  Britain  and  a  people  struggling  against  lier 
tyranny.  Though  more  than  sixty  years  had 
elapsed  since  the  Pilgrims  came,  this  crowd  of 
their  descendants  still  showed  the  strong  and  som- 
bre features  of  their  character,  perhaps  more  strik- 
ingly in  such  a  stern  emergency  than  on  happier 
occasions.  There  was  the  sober  garb,  the  gen- 
eral severity  of  mien,  the  gloomy  but  undismayed 
expression,  the  scriptural  forms  of  speech,  and  the 
confidence  in  Heaven's  blessing  on  a  righteous 
cause,  which  would  have  marked  a  band  of  the 
original  Puritans,  when  threatened  by  some  peril 
of  the  wilderness.  Indeed,  it  was  not  yet  time  for 
the  old  spirit  to  be  extinct ;  since  there  were  men  in 
the  street,  that  day,  who  had  worshipped  there 
beneath  the  trees,  before  a  house  was  reared  to 
the  God  for  whom  they  had  become  exiles.  Old 
soldiers  of  the  Parliament  were  here  too,  smiling 
grimly  at  the  thought  that  their  aged  arms  might 
strike  another  blow  against  the  house  of  Stuart. 
Here,  also,  were  the  veterans  of  King  Philip's 
war,  who  had  burned  villages  and  slaughtered 
young  and  old  with  pious  fierceness,  while  the 
godly  souls  throughout  the  land  were  helping 
them  with  prayer.  Several  ministers  were  scat- 
tered among  the  crowd,  which,  unlike  all  other 
mobs,  regarded  them  with  such  reverence,  as  if 
there  were  sanctity  in  their  garments.  These 
holy  men  exerted  their  influence  to  quiet  the 
people,  but  not  to  disperse  them.  Meantime, 
the  purpose  of  the  Governor  in  disturbing  the 
peace  of  the  town,  at  a  period  when  the  slightest 
commotion  might  throw  the  country  into  a  fer- 
ment, was  the  almost  universal  subject  of  inquiry, 
and  variously  explained. 

"  Satan  will  strike  his  master-stroke  presently," 
cried  some,  "  because  he  knoweth  that  his  time  is 
short.  All  our  godly  pastors  are  to  be  dragged 
to  prison.  We  shall  see  them  at  a  Smithfield  fire 
in  King  street." 

Hereupon,  the  people  of  each  parish  gathered 
closer  round  their  ministers,  who  looked  calmly 
upwards  and  assumed  a  more  apostolic  dignity, 
as  well  befitted  a  candidate  for  the  highest  honor 
of  his  profession,  the  crown  of  martyrdom.  It 
was  actually  fancied,  at  that  period,  that  New 
England  might  have  a  John  Rogers  of  her  own, 
to  take  the  place  of  that  worthy  in  the  Primer. 

' '  The  Pope  of  Rome  has  given  orders  for  a 
new  St.  Bartholomew  ! ' '  cried  others.  ' '  We  are 
to  be  massacred,  man  and  male  child  !  " 


Neither  was  this  rumor  wholly  discredited,  al- 
though the  wiser  class  believed  the  Governor's 
object  somewhat  less  atrocious.  His  predecessor 
under  the  old  charter,  Bradstreet,  a  venerable 
companion  of  the  first  settlers,  was  known  to  be 
in  town.  There  were  grounds  for  conjecturing, 
that  Sir  Edmund  Andros  intended  at  once  to 
strike  terror  by  a  parade  of  military  force,  and  to 
confound  the  opposite  faction  by  possessing  him- 
self of  their  chief. 

' '  Stand  firm  for  the  old  charter,  Governor  ! ' ' 
shouted  the  crowd,  seizing  upon  the  idea.  "The 
good  old  Governor  Bradstreet  ! ' ' 

While  this  cry  was  at  the  loudest,  the  people 
were  surprised  by  the  well-known  figure  of  Gov- 
ernor Bradstreet  himself,  a  patriarch  of  nearly 
ninety,  who  appeared  on  the  elevated  steps  of  a 
door,  and,  with  characteristic  mildness,  besought 
them  to  submit  to  the  constituted  authorities. 

"My  children,"  concluded  this  venerable  per- 
son, "do  nothing  rashly.  Cry  not  aloud,  but 
pray  for  the  welfare  of  New  England,  and  expect 
patieirti}-  what  the  Lord  will  do  in  this  matter  ! ' ' 

The  event  was  soon  to  be  decided.  All  this 
time  the  roll  of  the  drum  had  been  approaching 
through  Cornhill,  louder  and  deeper,  till,  with 
reverberations  from  house  to  house,  and  the  regu- 
lar tramp  of  martial  footsteps,  it  burst  into  the 
street.  A  double  rank  of  soldiers  made  their 
appearance,  occupying  the  whole  breadth  of  the 
passage,  with  shouldered  matchlocks,  and  matches 
burning,  so  as  to  present  a  row  of  fires  in  the 
dusk.  Their  steady  march  was  like  the  progress 
of  a  machine,  that  would  roll  irresistibly  over 
everything  in  its  way.  Next,  moving  slowly, 
with  a  confused  clatter  of  hoofs  on  the  pavement, 
rode  a  party  of  mounted  gentlemen,  the  central 
figure  being  Sir  Edmund  Andros,  elderly,  but 
erect  and  soldier-like.  Those  around  him  were 
his  favorite  councillors,  and  the  bitterest  foes  of 
New  England.  At  his  right  hand  rode  Edward 
Randolph,  our  arch  enemy,  that  "blasted  wretch," 
as  Cotton  Mather  calls  him,  who  achieved  the 
downfall  of  our  ancient  government,  and  was 
followed  with  a  sensible  curse  through  life  and  to 
his  grave.  On  the  other  side  was  Bullivant, 
scattering  jests  and  mockery  as  he  rode  along. 
Dudley  came  behind,  with  a  downcast  look,  dread- 
ing, as  well  he  might,  to  meet  the  indignant  gaze 
of  the  people,  who  beheld  him,  their  only  coun- 
try-man by  birth,  among  the  oppressors  of  his  na- 


L330 


SIR    EDMUXD    AXDKUS   AND    HIS    (JFFIC1 


XS!  I.TATION. 


THE   BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


331 


tive  land.  The  captain  of  a  frigate  in  the  harbor, 
and  two  or  three  civil  officers  under  the  Crown, 
were  also  there.  But  the  figure  which  most  at- 
tracted the  public  eye,  and  stirred  up  the  deepest 
feeling,  was  the  Episcopal  clergyman  of  King's 
Chapel,  riding  haughtily  among 
the  magistrates  in  his  priestly  vest- 
ments, the  fitting  representative  of 
prelacy  and  persecution,  the  union 
of  church  and  state,  and  all  those 
abominations  which  had  driven  the 
Puritans  to  the  wilderness.  Another 
guard  of  soldiers,  in  doable  rank, 
brought  up  the  rear. 

The  whole  scene  was  a  picture  ox 
the  condition  of  New  England,  and 
its  morale,  the  deformity  of  any  gov- 
ernment that  does  not  grow  out  of 
the  nature  of  things  and  the  charac- 
ter of  the  people.  On  one  side  the 
religious  multitude,  with  their  sad 
visages  and  dark  attire,  and  on  the 
other,  the  group  of  despotic  rulers, 
with  the  high  churchmen  in  the 
midst,  and  here  and  there  a  crucifix 
at  their  bosoms,  all  magnificently 
clad,  flushed  with  wine,  proud  of 
unjust  authority,  and  scoffing  at  the 
universal  groan.  And  the  mer- 
cenary soldiers,  waiting  but  the 
word  to  deluge  the  street  with  blood, 
showed  the  only  means  by  which 
obedience  could  be  secured. 

' '  Oh  !  Lord  of  Hosts  ! ' '  cried  a 
voice  among  the  crowd,  "provide 
a  Champion  for  thy  people." 

This  ejaculation  was  loudly  ut- 
tered, and  served  as  a  herald's  cry  to 
introduce  a  remarkable  personage. 
The  crowd  had  rolled  back,  and 
were  now  huddled  together  nearly 
at  the  extremity  of  the  street,  while 
the  soldiers  had  advanced  no  more 
than  a  third  of  its  length.  The  in- 
tervening space  was  empty — a  paved 
solitude,  between  lofty  edifices,  which 
threw  almost  a  twilight  shadow  over  it.  Sud- 
denly, there  was  seen  the  figure  of  an  ancient 
man,  who  seemed  to  have  emerged  from  among 
the  people,  and  was  walking  by  himself  along 
the  centre  of  the  street,  to  confront  the  armed 


baud.  He  wore  the  old  Puritan  dress,  a  dark 
cloak  and  a  steeple-crowned  hat,  in  the  fashion 
of  at  least  fifty  years  before,  with  a  heavy  sword 
upon  his  thigh,  but  a  staff  in  his  hand,  to  assist 
the  tremulous  gait  of  age. 


SIR    EDMUND   ANDROS. 

When  at  some  distance  from  the  multitude,  the 
old  man  turned  slowly  round,  displaying  a  face 
of  antique  majesty,  rendered  doubly  venerable 
by  the  hoary  beard  that  descended  on  his  breast. 
He  made  a  gesture   at  once   of   encouragement 


>o  o 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


and  warning,  then  turned  again  and  resumed  his 
"way. 

' '  Who  is  this  gray  patriarch  !  ' '  asked  the  young 
men  of  their  sires. 

' '  Who  is  this  venerable  brother  ! ' '  asked  the 
old  men  among  themselves. 

But  none  could  make  reply.  The  fathers  of 
the  people,  those  of  fourscore  years  and  upwards, 
were  disturbed,  deeming  it  strange  they  should 
forget  one  of  such  evident  authority,  whom  they 
must  have  known  in  their  early  days,  the  associ- 
ate of  Winthrop  and  all  the  old  Councillors, 
giving  laws,  and  making  pra3-ers,  and  leading 
them  against  the  savage.  The  elderly  men  ought 
to  have  remembered  him,  too,  with  locks  as  gray 
in  their  youth,  as  their  own  were  now.  And  the 
young  !  How  could  he  have  passed  so  utterly 
from  their  memories — that  hoary  sire,  the  relic  of 
long  departed  times,  whose  awful  benediction 
had  surely  been  bestowed  on  their  uncovered  heads 
in  childhood. 

' '  Whence  did  he  come  ?  What  is  his  purpose  ? 
Who  can  this  old  man  be  ?  "  whispered  the  wonder- 
ing crowd. 

Meanwhile,  the  venerable  stranger,  staff  in 
hand,  was  pursuing  his  solitary  walk  along  the 
centre  of  the  street.  As  he  drew  near  the  ad- 
vancing soldiers,  and  as  the  roll  of  their  drum 
came  full  upon  his  ear,  the  old  man  raised  him- 
self to  a  loftier  mien,  while  the  decrepitude  of  age 
seemed  to  fall  from  his  shoulders,  leaving  him  in 
gray  but  unbroken  dignity.  Now,  he  marched 
onward  with  a  warrior's  step,  keeping  time  to 
the  military  music.  Thus  the  aged  form  advanced 
on  one  side,  and  the  whole  parade  of  soldiers  and 
magistrates  on  the  other,  till,  when  scarcely 
twenty  yards  remained  between,  the  old  man 
grasped  his  staff  by  the  middle,  and  held  it  before 
him  like  a  leader's  truncheon. 

"  Stand  !  "  cried  he. 

The  eye,  the  face,  and  attitude  of  command  ; 
the  solemn  yet  warlike  peal  of  that  voice,  fit 
either  to  rule  a  host  in  the  battle-field  or  be  raised 
to  God  in  prayer,  were  irresistible.  At  the  old 
man's  word  and  outstretched  arm,  the  roll  of  the 
drum  was  hushed  at  once,  and  the  advancing  line 
stood  still.  A  tremulous  enthusiasm  seized  upon 
the  multitude.  That  stately  form,  combining  the 
leader  and  the  saint,  so  gray,  so  dimly  seen,  in 
such  an  ancient  garb,  could  only  belong  to  some 
old  champion  of  the  righteous  cause,   whom  the 


oppressor's  drum  had  summoned  from  his  grave. 
They  raised  a  shout  of  awe  and  exultation,  and 
looked  for  the  deliverance  of  New  England. 

The  Governor,  and  the  gentlemen  of  his  party, 
perceiving  themselves  brought  to  an  unexpected 
stand,  rode  hastily  forward,  as  if  they  would  have 
pressed  their  snorting  and  affrighted  horses  right 
against  the  hoary  apparition.  He,  however, 
blenched  not  a  step,  but  glancing  his  severe  eye 
round  the  group  which  half  encompassed  him, 
at  last  bent  it  sternly  on  Sir  Edmund  Andros. 
One  would  have  thought  that  the  dark  old  man 
was  chief  ruler  there,  and  that  the  Governor  and 
Council,  with  soldiers  at  their  back,  representing 
the  whole  power  and  authority  of  the  Crown,  had 
no  alternative  but  obedience. 

"What  does  this  old  fellow  here?"  cried 
Edward  Randolph,  fiercely.  "  On,  Sir  Edmund  ! 
Bid  the  soldiers  forward,  and  give  the  dotard  the 
same  choice  that  you  give  all  his  countrymen — 
to  stand  aside  or  be  trampled  on  !  " 

"Nay,  nay,  let  us  show  respect  to  the  good 
grandsire,"  said  Bullivant,  laughing.  "  See  you 
not  he  is  some  old  round-headed  dignitary,  who 
hath  lain  asleep  these  thirty  years,  and  knows 
nothing  of  the  change  of  times?  Doubtless,  he 
thinks  to  put  us  down  with  a  proclamation  in  Old 
Noll's  name  !  " 

"Are  you  mad,  old  man?"  demanded  Sir 
Edmund  Andros,  in  loud  and  harsh  tones.  "  How 
dare  you  stay  the  march  of  King  James's  Gover- 
nor?" 

"  I  have  staid  the  march  of  a  King  himself,  ere 
now,"  replied  the  gray  figure,  with  stern  compo- 
sure. "  I  am  here,  Sir  Governor,  because  the  cry 
of  an  oppressed  people  hath  disturbed  me  in  my 
secret  place  ;  and  beseeching  this  favor  earnestly 
of  the  Lord,  it  was  vouchsafed  me  to  appear  once 
again  on  earth  in  the  good  old  cause  of  his  saints. 
And  what  speak  ye  of  James  ?  There  is  no  longer 
a  popish  tyrant  on  the  throne  of  England,  and  by 
to-morrow  noon  his  name  shall  be  a  by-word  in 
this  very  street,  where  ye  would  make  it  a  word 
of  terror.  Back,  thou  chat  wast  a  Governor,  back  ' 
With  this  night  thy  power  is  ended — to-morrow, 
the  prison  ! — back,  lest  I  foretell  the  scaffold  !  " 

The  people  had  been  drawing  nearer  and  nearer, 
and  drinking  in  the  words  of  their  champion,  who 
spoke  in  accents  long  disused,  like  one  unaccus- 
tomed to  converse,  except  with  the  dead  of  many 
years   ago.     But   this   voice  stirred   their  souls. 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


They  confronted  the  soldiers,  not  wholly  without 
arms,  and  ready  to  convert  the  stones  of  the  street 
into  deadly  weapons.  Sir  Edmund  Andros  looked 
at  the  old  man  ;  then  he  cast  his  hard  and  cruel 
eye  over  the  multitude,  and  beheld  them  burn- 
ing with  that  lurid  wrath,  so  difficult  to  kindle  or 
to  quench  ;  and  again  he  fixed  his  gaze  on  the 
aged  form,  which  stood  obscurely  in  an  open  space, 
where  neither  friend  nor  foe  had  thrust  himself. 
What  were  his  thoughts,  he  uttered  no  word  which 
might  discover.  But  whether  the  oppressor  was 
overawed  by  the  Gray  Champion's  look,  or  per- 
ceived his  peril  in  the  threatening  attitude  of  the 
people,  it  is  certain  that  he  gave  back,  and  ordered 
his  soldiers  to  commence  a  slow  and  guarded 
retreat.  Before  another  sunset,  the  Governor,  and 
all  that  rode  so  proudly  with  him,  were  prisoners, 
and  long  ere  it  was  known  that  James  had  abdi- 
cated King  William  was  proclaimed  throughout 
New  England. 

But  where  was  the  Gray  Champion?  Some 
reported  that  when  the  troops  had  gone  from  King 
street,  and  the  people  were  thronging  tumultously 
in  their  rear,  Bradstreet,  the  aged  Governor,  was 
^>een  to  embrace  a  form  more  aged  than  his  own. 
Others  soberly  affirmed,  that  while  they  marvelled 
at  the  venerable  grandeur  of  his  aspect,  the  old 
man  had  faded  from  their  eyes,  melting  slowly 
into  the  hues  of  twilight,  till  where  he  stood  there 
was  an  empty  space.  But  all  agreed  that  the 
hoary  shape  was  gone.  The  men  of  that  genera- 
tion watched  for  his  re-appearance,  in  sunshine  and 
in  twilight,  but  never  saw  him  more,  nor  knew 
when  his  funeral  passed,  nor  where  his  gravestone 
was. 

And  who  was  the  Gray  Champion  ?  Perhaps 
his  name  might  be  found  in  the  records  of  that 
stern  Court  of  Justice  which  passed  a  sentence  too 
mighty  for  the  age,  but  glorious  in  all  after  times 
for  its  humbling  lesson  to  the  monarch  and  its 
high  example  to  the  subject.  I  have  heard,  that 
whenever  the  descendants  of  the  Puritans  are  to 
show  the  spirit  of  their  sires  the  old  man  appears 
again.  When  eighty  years  had  passed  he  walked 
once  more  in  King  street.  Five  years  later,  in  the 
twilight  of  an  April  morning,  he  stood  on  the 
green,  beside  the  meeting-house,  at  Lexington, 
where  now  the  obelisk  of  granite,  with  a  slab  of 
slate  inlaid,  commemorates  the  first  fallen  of  the 
Revolution.  And  when  our  fathers  were  toiling 
at  the  breastwork  on  Bunker's  Hill,  all  through 


that  night  the  old  warrior  walked  his  rounds. 
Long,  long  may  it  be  ere  it  comes  again  !  His 
hour  is  one  of  darkness,  and  adversity,  and  peril. 
But  should  domestic  tyranny  oppress  us,  or  the 
invader's  step  pollute  our  soil,  still  may  the  Gray 
Champion  come  ;  for  he  is  the  type  of  New  Eng- 
land's hereditary  spirit ;  and  his  shadowy  march 
on  the  eve  of  danger  must  ever  be  the  pledge  that 
New  England's  sons  will  vindicate  their  ancestry. 


THE  BASTINADO  AT  CAIRO. 
T^AVING  finished  my  purchases  in  the  bazaars, 
L/  I  returned  to  my  hotel,  ready  to  set  out,  and 
found  the  dromedaries,  camels,  and  guides,  and 
expected  to  find  the  letter  for  the  governor  of 
Akaba,  which,  at  the  suggestion  of  Mr.  Linant, 
I  had  requested  Mr.  Gliddon  to  procure  for  me. 
I  now  learned,  however,  from  that  gentleman, 
that  to  avoid  delay  it  would  be  better  to  go  my- 
self, first  sending  my  caravan  outside  the  gate, 
and  representing  to  the  minister  that  I  was 
actually  waiting  for  the  letter,  in  which  case  he 
would  probably  give  it  to  me  immediately.  I 
accordingly  sent  Paul  with  my  little  caravan  to 
wait  for  me  at  the  tombs  of  the  califs,  and,  at- 
tended by  the  consul's  janizary,  rode  up  to  the 
citadel,  and  stopped  at  the  door  of  the  governor's 
palace.  The  reader  may  remember  that  on  my 
first  visit  to  his  excellency  I  saw  a  man  whipped 
— this  time  I  saw  one  bastinadoed.  I  had  heard 
much  of  this,  a  punishment  existing,  I  believe, 
only  in  the  East,  but  I  had  never  seen  it  inflicted 
before,  and  hope  I  never  shall  see  it  again.  As 
on  the  former  occasion,  I  found  the  little  governor 
standing  at  one  end  of  the  large  hall  of  entrance, 
munching,  and  trying  causes.  A  crowd  was 
gathered  around,  and  before  him  was  a  poor  Arab, 
pleading  and  beseeching  most  piteously,  while 
the  big  tears  were  rolling  down  his  cheeks  ;  near 
him  was  a  man  whose  resolute  and  somewhat 
angry  expression  marked  him  as  the  accuser, 
seeking  vengeance  rather  than  justice.  Suddenly 
the  governor  made  a  gentle  movement  with  his 
hand  ;  all  noise  ceased  ;  all  stretched  their  necks 
and  turned  their  eager  e3'es  towards  him ;  the 
accused  cut  short  his  crying,  and  stood  with  his 
mouth  wide  open,  and  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
governor.  The  latter  spoke  a  few  words  in  a  very 
low  voice,  to  me  of  course  unintelligible,  and,  in- 
deed, scarcely  audible,  but  they  seemed  to  fall 
upon  the  quick  ears  of  the  culprit  like  bolts  of 


334 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


thunder  ;  the  agony  of  suspense  was  over,  and, 
without  a  word  or  a  look,  he  laid  himself  down 
on  his  face  at  the  feet  of  the  governor.  A  space 
was  immediately  cleared  around  ;  a  man  on  each 
side  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  stretching  out  his 
arms,  kneeled  upon  and  held  them  down,  while 
another  seated  himself  across  his  neck  and 
shoulders.  Thus  nailed  to  the  ground,  the  poor 
fellow,  knowing  that  there  was  no  chance  of 
escape,  threw  up  his  feet  from  the  knee-joint,  so 
as  to  present  the  soles  in  a  horizontal  position. 
Two  men  came  forward  with  a  pair  of  long  stout 
bars  of  wood,  attached  together  by  a  cord,  be- 
tween which  the)-  placed  the  feet,  drawing  them 
together  with  the  cord  so  as  to  fix  them  in  their 
horizontal  position,  and  leave  the  whole  flat  sur- 
face exposed  to  the  full  force  of  the  blow.  In  the 
mean  time  two  strong  Turks  were  standing  read}-, 
one  at  each  side,  armed  with  long  whips  much 
resembling  our  common  cow-skin,  but  longer  and 
thicker,  and  made  of  the  tough  hide  of  the  hip- 
popotamus. While  the  occupation  of  the  judge 
was  suspended  by  these  preparations,  the  janizary 
had  presented  the  consul's  letter.  My  sensibili- 
ties are  not  particularly  acute,  but  they  yielded  in 
this  instance.  I  had  watched  all  the  preliminary 
arrangements,  nerving  myself  for  what  was  to 
come,  but  when  I  heard  the  scourge  whizzing 
through  the  air,  and,  when  the  first  blow  fell 
upon  the  naked  feet,  saw  the  convulsive  move- 
ments of  the  bod}-,  and  heard  the  first  loud, 
piercing  shriek, I  could  stand  it  no  longer ;  I  broke 
through  the  crowd,  forgetting  the  governor  and 
-everything  else,  except  the  agonizing  sounds  from 
which  I  was  escaping  ;  but  the  janizary  followed 
close  at  my  heels,  and,  laying  his  hand  upon  my 
arm,  hauled  me  back  to  the  governor.  If  I  had 
consulted  merely  the  impulse  of  feeling,  I  should 
have  consigned  him,  and  the  governor,  and  the 
whole  nation  of  Turks,  to  the  lower  regions  ;  but 
it  was  all  important  not  to  offend  this  summary 
dispenser  of  justice,  and  I  never  made  a  greater 
sacrifice  of  feeling  to  expediency  than  when  I  re- 
entered his  presence.  The  shrieks  of  the  un- 
happy criminal  were  ringing  through  the  chamber, 
but  the  governor  received  me  with  as  calm  a  smile 
as  if  he  had  been  sitting  on  his  own  divan,  listen- 
ing only  to  the  strains  of  some  pleasant  music, 
while  I  stood  with  my  teeth  clenched,  and  felt  the 
hot  breath  of  the  victim,  and  heard  the  whizzing 
of  the  accursed  whip,  as  it  fell  again  and  again 


upon  his  bleeding  feet.  I  have  heard  men  cry 
out  in  agony  when  the  sea  was  raging,  and  the 
drowning  man,  rising  for  the  last  time  upon  the 
mountain  waves,  turned  his  imploring  arms  to- 
wards us,  and  with  his  dying  breath  called  in  vain 
for  help ;  but  I  never  heard  such  heart-rending 
sounds  as  those  from  the  poor  bastinadoed  wretch 
before  me.  I  thought  the  governor  would  never 
make  an  end  of  reading  the  letter,  when  the 
scribe  handed  it  to  him  for  his  signature,  although 
it  contained  but  half  a  dozen  lines  ;  he  fumbled  in 
his  pocket  for  his  seal,  and  dipped  it  in  the  ink  ; 
the  impression  did  not  suit  him,  and  he  made 
another,  and  after  a  delay  that  seemed  to  me 
eternal,  employed  in  folding  it,  handed  it  to  me 
with  a  most  gracious  smile.  I  am  sure  I  grinned 
horribly  in  return,  and  almost  snatching  the  letter, 
just  as  the  last  blow  fell,  I  turned  to  hasten  from 
the  scene.  The  poor  scourged  wretch  was  silent ; 
he  had  found  relief  in  happy  insensibility  ;  I  east 
one  look  upon  the  senseless  body,  and  saw  the 
feet  laid  open  in  gashes,  and  the  blood  streaming 
down  the  legs.  At  that  moment  the  bars  were 
taken  away,  and  the  mangled  feet  fell  like  lead 
upon  the  floor.  I  had  to  work  my  way  through 
the  crowd,  and  before  I  could  escape  I  saw  the 
poor  fellow  revive,  and  by  the  first  natural  im- 
pulse rise  upon  his  feet,  but  fall  again  as  if  he  had 
stepped  upon  red-hot  irons.  He  crawled  upon  his 
hands  and  knees  to  the  door  of  the  hall,  and  here 
I  rejoiced  to  see  that,  miserable,  and  poor,  and 
degraded  as  he  was,  he  had  yet  friends  whose 
hearts  yearned  towards  him  ;  they  took  him  in 
their  arms  and  carried  him  away. 


THE  ROMANTIC  HISTORY  OF  QUEEN 
ISABELLA,  OF  ENGLAND. 

IT  is  a  trite  saying,  that  truth  is  stranger  than 
fiction  ;  and  we  find  it  so  when  we  examine 
the  pages  of  history. 

Philip,  king  of  France,  surnamed  "the  Fair," 
had  three  sons,  besides  his  beautiful  daughter 
Isabella,  married  to  Edward,  king  of  England. 
These  three  sons  were  very  hendsome.  The 
eldest,  Lewis,  king  of  Navarre,  during  the  life- 
time of  his  father,  was  called  Lewis  Hulin  ;  the 
second  was  named  Philip  the  Great,  or  the  Long, 
because  he  was  tall ;  and  the  third,  Charles.  All 
of  these  princes  reigned  on  the  throne  of  France, 
one  after  the  other,  in  legitimate  succession,  after 
their  father,  Charles  being  the  last. 


BLAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


335 


When  Charles  ascend  jd  the  throne  of  France, 
the  English  were  fighting  with  the  Scots,  and  suf- 
fered a  defeat  at  Sterling,  which  the  nobles  and 
barons,  and  King  Edward's  council,  attributed  to 
Sir  Hugh  Spencer,  a  powerful  baron,  on  account 
of  his  partiality  to  the  king  of  Scotland.  The 
discontent  became  so  great  that  Sir  Hugh  realized 
his  life  was  in  danger,  and  being  a  great  favorite 
with  King  Edward,  he 
determined  to  take 
measures  to  check  the 
conspiracy  against 
himself. 

On  the  first  opportu- 
nity, therefore,  he  told 
the  king  that  certain 
lords,  including  the 
Earl  of  Lancaster,  the 
king's  uncle,  had  en- 
tered into  an  alliance 
against  him,  and  if  he 
did  not  take  proper 
measures,  they  would 
drive  him  out  of  his 
kingdom.  The  king 
was  so  alarmed  and  in- 
censed at  this  informa- 
tion, which  Sir  Hugh 
had  maliciously  im- 
parted to  him,  that  he 
caused  all  the  lords 
who  were  supposed  to 
be  in  the  conspiracy,  to 
the  number  of  twenty- 
two,  to  be  arrested  one 
da}-  when  they  were  in 
a  room  together,  and 
had  all  their  heads  im- 
mediately cut  off,  with- 
out assigning  any  cause 
whatever.  His  uncle, 
the  earl  of  Lancaster, 

suffered  first.  He  was  a  discreet  and  pious  man, 
and  was  so  highly  regarded  by  the  people  that 
after  he  was  beheaded  they  imagined  miracles 
were  performed  at  his  tomb. 

The  hatred  against  Sir  Hugh  Spencer  was 
greatly  increased  by  this  dastardly  deed,  and  the 
queen,  taking  part  against  him,  so  incensed  King 
Edward  that  he  refused  to  see  her,  or  to  come  to 
any  place  where  she  was.     The  quarrel  lasted  for 


some  time,  when  the  queen  was  informed  that  if 
she  did  not  speedily  quit  the  court  she  would  re- 
pent of  it,  as  Sir  Hugh  was  determined  to  wreak 
his  vengeance  upon  her.  She  at  once  made 
preparations  for  departing  secret!}'  to  France,  and 
giving  out  that  she  was  going  on  a  pilgrimage  to 
St.  Thomas,  of  Canterbury,  she  proceeded  instead 


to  the  sea  co; 


ist,  accompanied  by    her  young 


'.on 


FHrui'  the  hair,  of  France,  and  his  COURT. — (  Copy  of  ail  ancient  engravi 

the  eighteenth  century.) 

Edward,  the  earl  of  Kent,  Sir  Roger  Mortimer, 
and  a  small  retinue  of  servants,  and  embarking 
on  a  vessel  they  landed  the  next  morning  at 
Boulogne. 

Her  brother,  King  Charles,  learning  of  her 
coming,  sent  a  number  of  his  great  lords  to  meet 
her,  who  received  and  conducted  her  to  Paris  in 
great  honor.  On  their  arrival,  the  king  greeted 
his  sister  and  her  son  with  great  affection,  and  in- 


336 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


quired  after  her  affairs.  She  immediately  related 
to  him  all  the  injuries  that  had  been  done  to  her 
by  Sir  Hugh  Spencer,  and  asked  his  advice  and 
assistance.  The  king  was  greatly  moved,  and  de- 
clared, "Fair sister,  be  appeased  ;  for  by  the  faith 
I  owe  to  God  and  St.  Denis,  I  will  provide  a 
remedy."  He  then  conducted  her  to  another 
apartment,  which  was  richly  furnished  for  her  and 
her  young  son  Edward,  and  with  a  show  of  great 
affection  bade  them  good  night,  having  first  di- 
rected   that  even-thing    should   be  provided  for 


ARRIVAL   OF   OUF.KN   ISABELLA    AT    PARIS. — (Copy  of 

their   comfort    in    accordance  with    their    royal 
state. 

A  short  time  afterward  the  king  assembled  a 
council  of  his  lords  and  barons,  for  the  purpose 
of  considering  what  was  best  to  be  done  with  ref- 
erence to  his  sister's  affairs.  At  this  great  council 
it  was  advised  that  she  should  be  permitted  to 
raise  an  army  and  purchase  supplies  in  France, 
for  the  purpose  of  making  war  against  her  hus- 
band, the  king  of  England,  and  Sir  Hugh  Spen- 
cer, but  that  the  king  of  France  should  pretend 
to  be  ignorant  of  what  was  going  on,  lest  he 
should  bring  on  a  war  between  his  country  and 
England.  King  Charles  acceded  to  this  advice, 
and  his  sister  was  immediately  authorized  to  pro- 


ceed with  the  enlistment  and  equipping  of  her 
arm  j'. 

Meanwhile  matters  in  England  were  growing 
worse  every  day.  Sir  Hugh  Spencer,  using  the 
power  that  he  possessed  over  King  Edward, 
caused  many  noblemen  and  others  to  be  put  to 
death  without  law  or  justice,  merely  because  he 
suspected  them  of  being  ill-inclined  toward  him- 
self. His  pride  had  also  become  so  intolerable 
that  the  other  barons  could  not  endure  it,  and 
the)-  sent  secretly  to  inform  Queen  Isabella  that 
if  she  would  collect  about 
a  thousand  men-at-arms,  and 
come  at  the  head  of  them 
herself,  with  her  son,  into 
England,  they  would  unite 
their  forces  to  hers,  and  obey 
her  as  their  lawful  sover- 
eign. 

The  queen  showed  these 
letters  to  her  brother,  who 
was  greatly  pleased,  and 
said,  "God  be  your  help, 
and  your  affairs  will  prosper 
so  much  the  better.  Tak 
of  my  subjects  as  many  as 
your  friends  desire.  I  freely 
give  my  consent,  and  I  will 
order  the  necessary  sums  of 
money  to  be  distributed 
among  them." 

The  queen  accordingly 
pushed  her  preparations  as 
rapidly  and  secretly  as  pos- 
sible, but  she  could  not  pre- 
vent her  intentions  from  be- 
coming known  to  Sir  Hugh  Spencer,  who  thought 
the  most  prudent  plan  would  be  to  win  the  king  of 
France  over  to  his  interests,  by  means  of  presents, 
promises  of  alliances,  etc.  For  this  purpose  he  sent 
over  trusted  secret  messengers,  loaded  with  gold, 
silver,  and  rich  jewels;  and  these  were  distribu- 
ted among  the  king  and  his  ministers  with  such 
effect  that  in  a  short  time  they  were  as  cold  to- 
ward the  cause  of  Isabella  as  they  had  before  been 
warm.  The  king  forbade  any  person,  under  pain 
of  banishment,  to  aid  his  sister  in  her  intended 
expedition  against  England. 

Sir  Hugh  also  endeavored  to  get  the  queen  into 
his  and  the  king's  power,  and  to  this  effect  caused 
King  Edward  to  write  an  affectionate  letter  to  the 


ancient  engraving.) 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


337 


Pope,  entreating  him  to  order  the  king  of  France 
to  send  back  his  wife,  as  he  was  anxious  to  acquit 
himself  toward  her  before  God  and  the  world  ; 
since  it  was  not  his  fault  that  she  had  left  him,  for 
he  was  all  love  and  good  faith  toward  her.  In 
addition  to  this,  Sir  Hugh  sent  large  sums  of 
money  and  rich  presents  to  the  cardinals  and  pre- 
lates, the  nearest  relations  to  the  Pope,  and  those 
most  in  his  counsels,  who  managed  him  in  such  a 
manner  that  he  wrote  to  the  king  of  France  to 
send  back  Isabella  to  her  husband,  under  pain  of 
excommunication. 

On  receipt  of  the  Pope's  letter,  the  king  caused 
his  sister  to  be  brought  before  him,  and  com- 
manded her,  in  the  grossest  and  most  unkind 
manner,  to  leave  his  kingdom  immediately,  or  he 
Would  make  her  leave  it  with  shame. 

The  queen  was  greatly  astonished  and  grieved 
at  this  command,  and  knew  not  what  to  do.  She 
had  no  resource  or  adviser  left  except  in  her 
cousin,  Robert  of  Artois  ;  and  he  could  only  coun- 
sel and  assist  her  in  secret,  for  he  had  heard  the 
king  say  and  swear  that  whoever  should  speak  to 
him  in  his  sister's  behalf  should  forfeit  his  lands 
and  be  banished  from  the  kingdom.  He  was  also 
informed  that  the  king  was  not  averse  to  the 
seizure  of  the  persons  of  the  queen,  her  son,  and 
their  supporters,  and  causing  them  to  be  delivered 
into  the  hands  of  the  king  of  England  and  Sir 
Hugh  Spencer.  He  therefore  came  in  the  middle 
of  the  night  to  inform  Queen  Isabella  of  the  peril 
she  was  in.  She  was  thunderstruck  at  this  in- 
formation and  the  perfidy  of  her  brother.  Sir 
Robert  advised  her  to  set  out  at  once  for  Ger- 
man}-, where  there  were  man}'  noble  lords  who 
would  assist  her,  particularly  William,  Earl  of 
Hainault,  and  his  brother,  who  were  wise  and 
true  men,  and  much  dreaded  by  their  enemies. 

The  queen,  acting  upon  this  good  advice, 
ordered  her  baggage  to  be  made  ready,  and  hav- 
ing paid  for  everything,  she  quitted  Paris,  accom- 
panied by  her  son,  the  earl  of  Kent,  and  her  com- 
pany. They  took  the  road  toward  the  country 
of  the  Earl  of  Hainault,  as  the  queen  had  been 
advised  by  her  cousin,  Robert  of  Artois,  and  after 
some  days  the}-  came  into  the  borders  of  the  Ger- 
man Empire,  when  she  felt  more  at  ease,  as  she 
was  now  in  the  midst  of  friends.  They  lodged 
one  night  at  the  house  of  a  poor  knight  named 
Eustace  d'Ambreticourt,  who  received  the  queen 
with  great  pleasure,  and  entertained  her  the  best 
22 


he  could,  for  which  she  was  very  grateful ;  and 
afterward  when  she  had  become  queen  of  Eng- 
land, she  invited  him  and  his  family  to  pay  her  a 
visit  at  her  capital,  where  she  advanced  their  for- 
tunes in  many  ways.  The  son  of  this  poor  knight 
was  created  one  of  the  first  Knights  of  the  Garter, 
and  the  queen  lost  no  opportunity  to  show  her 
gratitude  for  their  kindness  to  her  when  she  was 
in  want  and  peril. 

The  queen's  arrival  was  soon  known  in  the 
house  of  the  Earl  of  Hainault,  who  was  then  at 
Valenciennes,  but  his  brother,  Sir  John,  a  young 
and  handsome  man,  and  panting  for  glory  like  a 
knight  -errant,  mounted  his  horse,  and,  accom- 
panied by  a  few  retainers,  set  off  in  hot  haste  to 
pay  his  respects  to  the  beautiful  queen.  She  re- 
ceived him  in  the  midst  of  her  maids  and  the  other 
company,  and  he  was  greatly  charmed  with  her 
graceful  manners  and  queenly  bearing. 

When  their  first  greetings  were  over,  and 
mutual  compliments  had  been  exchanged,  Sir 
John  begged  the  queen  to  inform  him  of  all  her 
troubles ;  and  feeling  that  he  was  a  true  friend, 
she  told  him  all,  which  so  affected  him  that  he 
mingled  his  own  tears  with  hers,  and  said, ' '  L,ady. 
I  am  your  knight,  who  will  not  fail  to  die  for  you, 
though  every  one  else  should  desert  you  ;  there- 
fore will  I  do  everything  in  my  power  to  conduct 
you  and  your  son,  and  to  restore  you  to  your 
rank  in  England,  by  the  grace  of  God  and  the 
assistance  of  friends  in  your  own  country  ;  and  I. 
and  all  those  whom  I  can  influence,  will  risk  our 
lives  in  this  adventure,  for  your  dear  sake,  and 
we  will  have  a  sufficient  armed  force,  if  it  please 
God,  without  fearing  any  danger  from  the  king 
of  France." 

The  queen,  who  was  seated  during  this  address, 
with  Sir  John  standing  before  her,  arose,  and 
would  have  cast  herself  at  his  feet,  out  of  grati- 
tude for  the  great  favor  he  had  just  offered  her  ; 
but  the  gallant  knight,  raising  her  quickly,  took 
her  in  his  arms,  and  said,  "  God  forbid  that  the 
queen  of  England  should  kneel  to  me  !  Be  of 
good  comfort  to  yourself  and  company,  for  I  will 
keep  my  promise — and  you  shall  come  and  see 
my  brother,  and  the  countess,  his  wife,  and  all 
their  fine  children,  who  will  be  rejoiced  to  meet 
you." 

To  this  gallant  and  affecting  speech  the  queen 
replied,  weeping:  "Sir,  I  find  in  you  more  kind- 
ness and  comfort  than  in  all  the  world  besides, 


538    THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


and  I  give  you  five  hundred  thousand  thanks  for 
what  you  have  said  and  offered  me.  If  you  will 
keep  what  you  have  promised  me  with  so  much 


SIR  JOHN    BEFORE   OUKEN*    ISABELLA. 


land   under   your  management,   as  in   justice    it 

ought  to  be." 
After  this  conversation,  S>r  John  took  leave  of 

the  queen  and  the 
knight  whose 
guest  she  was, 
and  went  to  Douay , 
where  he  slept,  for 
the  knight  was  so 
poor  that  he  had 
no  place  to  offer 
him,  except  that 
which  was  already 
occupied  b  y  the 
queen  and  her 
women. 

The  next  day 
he  returned  to  the 
queen,  who  re- 
ceived him  with 
great  joy.  She 
had  just  finished 
her  dinner,  and 
was  going  to 
mount  her  horse 
for  the  purpose  of 
setting  out  on  her 
journey  to  Valen- 
ciennes, when  Sir 
John  arrived.  In 
taking  leave  of  the 
knight  and  his 
lady,  who  had  so 
courteously  enter- 
tained her  and  her 
company,  she 
thanked  them  for 
their  good  cheer, 
adding  that  she 
trusted  a  time 
would  come  when 
she  and  her  son 
woidd  not  fail  to 
remember  their 
courtesy,  and  her 
promise  was  faith- 
fully kept.  Sir 
John  H  a  i  n  a  u  1 1 , 
with  great  joy  and 


courtesy,   I    and  my  son  shall  be  forever  bound      respect,   conducted    the    queen  to  Valenciennes, 
unto  you,  and  we  will  put  the  kingdom  of  Eng-      where  the   citizens  came  out    to  meet  her  with 


o 

M 
O 


(350) 


340 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


many  tokens  of  respect  and  good-will.  Here  she 
was  introduced  to  William,  Earl  of  Hainault, 
and  his  Countess,  by  whom  she  was  very  gra- 
ciously received.  Many  great  fetes  were  given 
on  this  happy  occasion,  and  no  one  knew  better 
than  the  countess  how  to  do  the  duties  of  her 
house. 

The  Earl  had  at  that  time  four  daughters,  Mar- 
garet, Philippa,  Joan  and  Isabella.     Philippa  was 


Queen  Isabella  remained  at  Valenciennes  eight 
days,  preparing  for  her  journey  to  her  own  coun- 
try, and  meanwhile  Sir  John  Hainault  wrote 
a  number  of  letters  to  certain  knights  and  com- 
panions in  whom  he  had  great  confidence,  be- 
seeching them  to  accompany  him  on  his  expedi- 
tion to  England. 

There  were  great  numbers  in  those  countries, 
who  were  willing  to  go  with  him  for   the  love 


THE    QUEEN'S   SHI 

the  most  beautiful  woman  in  all  Valenciennes, 
and  the  young  Prince  Edward  was  captivated  by 
her  bright  eyes  and  gentle  manners.  She  was 
also  brilliant  and  witty  in  conversation,  and  it 
was  soon  noticed  that  the  young  people  were 
nearly  always  together,  and  that  the3T  preferred 
one  another's  society  to  that  of  all  other  persons. 
It  was  in  fact  a  case  of  true  love,  and  afterwards 
when  Edward  ascended  the  throne  of  England,  he 
offered  his  hand  and  heart  to  the  beautiful  maiden, 
and  she  became  his  queen. 


PS   IN   THE   STORM. 

they  bore  him,  for  he  was  very  popular  ;  but 
others  objected  on  account  of  the  great  hazards, 
and  because  their  countries  were  not  at  war  with 
England  ;  but  Sir  John  told  them  that  all  true 
knights  were  bound  to  aid,  to  the  utmost  of  their 
power,  all  ladies  and  damsels  driven  from  their 
kingdoms  comfortless  and  forlorn  ;  and  that,  for 
himself,  he  would  not  change  his  purpose,  for  he 
could  only  die  but  once. 

His  brother,  the  Earl  of  Hainault,  was  ?mong 
those  who  had  opposed  the  expedition,  believing 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


341 


it  was  wrong  to  take  part  in  any  hostile  move- 
ment against  a  friendly  nation.  But  Sir  John  said 
to  him  on  taking  his  departure  :  "  My  dear  lord 
and  brother,  I  am  young,  and  feeling  that  God 
has  inspired  me  with  a  desire  for  this  enterprise,  for 
our  advancement ;  if  it  is  for  the  honor  and  glory 
of  God  to  comfort  the  afflicted  and  oppressed,  how 
much  more  so  is  it  to  help  and  succor  one  of  such 
high  birth  as  this  beautiful  queen  and  her  son. 
I  would  rather  renounce  every  expectation  I  have 
here,  and  serve 
God  beyond  the 
seas,  rather  than 
this  good  lady 
should  be  left 
without  aid  and 
comfort. 

When  the  Earl 
perceived  that 
his  brother  was 
in  such  deep  earn- 
est, and  consid- 
ered that  per- 
haps the  enter- 
prise might  result 
in  great  honor 
and  profit  to  him- 
self and  his  de- 
scendants, he 
said  to  him,  "God 
forbid  that  there 
should  be  any 
hindrance  to  your 
■wish  —  therefore 
I  give  you  leave 
in  the  name  of 
God."  He  then 
kissed  him  and 
pressed  his  hand 
in  token  of  great 
affection,  for  to  him  he  seemed  more  like  a  son 
than  a  brother. 

That  night  Sir  John  and  the  queen  and  her  corn- 
pan}*  set  out,  and  proceeded  toward  the  sea  coast, 
where  it  had  been  appointed  for  their  friends  to 
meet  them.  Here  they  collected  a  force  of  about 
three  thousand  men  and  many  knights,  all  eager 
to  serve  in  this  expedition.  A  fleet  had  been 
prepared  to  convey  them  to  England,  and  the 
weather  being  clear  and  temperate  they  set  sail 
in     good     order,     making    a     fine     appearance, 


considering  the  smallness  of  their  numbers. 
It  seemed  indeed  a  hazardous  undertaking, 
but  the  queen  knew  that  she  had  many  friends  of 
great  power  and  influence  in  her  own  country, 
and  she  confidently  depended  upon  these  for  such 
an  increase  to  her  forces  as  she  might  need. 

It  was  their  intention  to  follow  the  coast  of 
Zealand,  and  land  at  a  port  in  England  which 
they  had  descried  ;  but  they  were  prevented  by  a 
violent  tempest,   which  drove   them    far   to   the 


queen  Isabella's  army  BESIEGING  BRISTOL. — (Copy  of  an  engraving  of  the  fifteenth  century. 


north,  so  that  for  two  days  they  knew  not  where 
they-  were.  But  this  was  a  fortunate  circumstance 
for  them,  for  if  they  had  landed  at  the  port  they 
intended,  they  would  have  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  their  enemies,  who,  apprised  of  their  coming, 
were  prepared  with  a  large  force  to  meet  them. 
At  the  end  of  the  second  day  the  storm  abated, 
and  the  sailors,  perceiving  land,  made  for  it  joy- 
fully, and  drove  the  ships  upon  the  sand,  having 
neither  port  nor  harbor.  They  were  then  upon 
the  coasts  of  Suffolk,  but  having:  lost  their  reckon- 


342 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


iug,  they  were  ignorant  as  to  what  part  of  Eng- 
land they  were  in,  or  whether  the  inhabitants 
were  friendly  to  their  cause  or  not. 

The}'  were  occupied  three  days  in  landing  their 
horses  and  baggage,  and  on  the  fourth  they  began 
their  inarch,  putting  themselves  under  the  protec- 
tion of  God  and  St.  George. 

The  news  of  their  arrival  soon  spread  abroad, 
and  the  barons  by  whose  advice  the  queen  had 
returned  hastened  to  join  her  forces.  The  first 
who  came  was  Henry,  Earl  of  Lancaster,  brother 
of  Earl  Thomas  who  had  been  beheaded  by  order 
of  King  Edward.  He  was  attended  by  a  great 
number  of  men-at-arms.  Other  nobles,  barons, 
knights,  and  esquires,  with  their  retainers,  flocked 
to  the  queen's  standard  from  different  parts  of  the 
country,  so  that  in  a  short  time  her  forces  were  so 
large  that  they  felt  they  had  nothing  more  to  fear. 
It  was  decided  in  a  council  of  the  leaders  that 
they  would  march  directly  to  Bristol,  where  the 
king  and  Sir  Hugh  Spencer  and  his  father  were. 
Bristol  at  that  time  was  a  very  large  town,  well 
inclosed  by  walls,  and  situated  on  a  good  port. 
Its  castle  was  very  strong,  and  surrounded  by  the 
sea.  Here  the  king  and  Sir  Hugh  Spencer,  the 
elder,  who  was  about  ninety  years  of  age,  and  his 
sou.  Sir  Hugh,  the  chief  governor  of  the  king, 
and  adviser  of  all  his  evil  deeds,  shut  them- 
selves up. 

The  queen  and  her  army  took  the  shortest  road 
for  that  place.  In  even'  town  through  which  they 
passed  they  were  entertained  with  marks  of  dis- 
tinction. Her  forces  augmented  daily,  until  their 
arrival  at  Bristol,  which  they  immediately  be- 
sieged. The  king  and  the  younger  Spencer  retired 
to  the  castle,  while  the  old  earl  remained  in  the 
town.  When  the  citizens  saw  the  queen's  force, 
and  'the  affections  of  almost  all  England  on  her 
side,  they  were  alarmed  at  their  own  perilous 
situation,  and  determined  to  surrender  the  town, 
on  condition  that  their  lives  and  property  should 
be  spared.  They  sent  to  treat  with  the  queen  on 
this  subject  ;  but  neither  she  nor  her  council 
would  consent  to  it  unless  Sir  Hugh  Spencer  and 
the  Earl  of  Arundel  were  delivered  up  to  her  dis- 
cretion, for  she  had  come  purposely  to  destroy 
them.  The  citizens,  seeing  they  had  no  other 
means  of  saving  the  town,  their  lives,  and  their 
fortunes,  acceded  to  the  queen's  terms,  and  opened 
the  gates  to  her.  She  entered  the  town,  accom- 
panied by  Sir  John  Hainault,  with  all  her  barons, 


knights,  and  esquires,  who  took  their  lodging 
therein,  while  the  others,  for  want  of  accommo- 
dation, remained  without.  Sir  Hugh  Spencer 
and  the  Earl  of  Arundel  were  delivered  to  the 
queen  to  do  with  them  as  should  please  her.  Her 
son  John  and  her  two  daughters  were  also  found 
there  in  Sir  Hugh's  keeping,  and  they  were 
brought  safely  to  her.  As  she  had  not  seen  them 
for  a  long  time,  this  meeting  gave  her  great  joy. 
The  king  and  the  younger  Spencer  remained 
shut  up  in  the  castle,  but  were  much  grieved  to 
see  the  whole  country  turned  over  to  the  queen's 
party,  and  to  young  Edward,  her  eldest  son. 

After  a  few  days'  rest,  the  queen  and  her  barons 
began  to  make  their  approaches  to  the  castle  as 
near    as    they    could,    whereupon    she    ordered 
Sir  Hugh  Spencer,  the  elder,  and  the  Earl  of  Arun- 
del to  be  brought  before  Prince  Edward  and  her 
barons,  and  said  to  them   that  she  and  her  son 
would  see  that  law  and  justice  should  be  done 
them  according  to  their  deeds.    Sir  Hugh  replied, 
"Ah!   madam,  God  grant  us  an   upright  judge 
and  a  just  sentence  ;  and  that  if  we  cannot  have 
it  in   this  world,    we  may   find    it  in    another." 
Then  rose  up  Sir  Thomas  Wager,  a  good  knight, 
wise  and  courteous,  and  marshal  of  the  army  :  he 
read,  from  a  paper  in  his  hand,  the  charges  against 
them,  and  then  addressed  himself  to  an  old  knight, 
seated  on  his  right  hand,  to  decide  the  punish- 
ment due  to  persons  guilt}'  of  such  crimes.     This 
knight    consulted  with    the    other    barons    and 
knights,  and  reported  it  as  their  opinion  that  they 
deserved  death  for  the  man}'  horrible  crimes  with 
which    they    had     been    charged,    and    which 
they    believed  to  be  clearly  proved.      They  de- 
cided that  from  the  diversity  of  their  crimes,  they 
should  suffer    in    three  different  manners :    first, 
to  be  drawn  on   a  hurdle  to  the  place  of  execu- 
tion, there  beheaded,   and  afterwards  hanged  on 
a  gibbet.     Agreeably  to  this  sentence,  they  were 
executed  before  the  castle  of  Bristol,  in  the  sight 
of  the  king,    Sir  Hugh  Spencer,    and   all    those 
within  it.     This  execution  took  place  in  October, 
on  St.  Denis's  Day,  1326. 

The  king  and  Sir  Hugh  Spencer,  from  their 
places  in  the  castle,  witnessed  the  execution  with 
terror,  and  seeing  themselves  so  closely  pressed, 
embarked  secretly  one  morning,  with  a  few  fol- 
lowers, in  a  small  boat  behind  the  castle,  intend- 
ing if  possible,  to  reach  the  coast  of  Wales.  They 
were  driven  for  eleven  or  twelve  days  in  this  small 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


34: 


boat,  and  notwithstanding  their  efforts  to  get  for- 
ward, the  winds  blew  so  contrary  that  they  were 
frequently  driven  back  near  the  castle,  from 
whence  they  had  set  out.  At  length  an  officer  in 
the  queen's  army,  Sir  Henry  Beaumont,  seeing 
the  vessel,  embarked  with  some  of  his  companions 
in  a  barge  and  rowed  so  vig- 
orously that  the  king's 
boatmen,  unable  to  escape, 
were  overtaken.  The  king 
and  Sir  Hugh  Spencer  were 
brought  back  to  Bristol 
and  delivered  to  the  queen 
and  her  son,  as  prisoners. 

Thus  ended  this  bold  and 
gallant  enterprise  in  which 
Sir  John  of  Hainault  and 
his  companions  had  so  chiv- 
alrously assisted  Queen  Isa- 
bella in  recovering  her  king- 
dom. The  whole  nation, 
with  the  exception  of  a 
few  who  were  attached  to 
the  Spencers,  greatly  re- 
joiced at  the  result. 

The  queen  and  her  army 
soon  set  out  for  London, 
and  on  the  march  Sir 
Thomas  Wager  caused  Sir 
Hugh  Spencer  to  be  fast- 
ened to  the  poorest  and 
smallest  horse  that  he  could 
find,  clothed  with  a  tabart, 
such  as  he  was  accustomed 
to  wear.  He  led  him  thus 
in  derision  in  the  suite  of 
the  queen,  through  all  the 
towns  they  passed,  where 
he  was  announced  by  trum- 
pets and  cymbals,  by  way 
of  greater  mockery,  until 
they  reached  Hereford, 
where   the  queen   and  her 

companions  were  respectfully  and  joyfully  re- 
ceived. Here  the  feast  of  All  Saints  was  cele- 
brated with  great  solemnity  and  magnificence, 
out  of  respect  to  the  queen  and  her  son,  and  to 
the  noble  foreigners  -who  attended  them. 

When  the  feast  was  over,  .Sir  Hugh  Spencer 
was  brought  before  the  queen  and  her  knights. 
The  charges  against  him  were  read,  to  which  he 


made  no  reply.  The  barons  and  knights  then 
passed  the  sentence  upon  him,  which  was  exe- 
cuted in  the  following  manner :  He  was  first 
drawn  on  a  hurdle,  attended  by  trumpets  and 
clarions,  through  all  the  streets  of  Hereford,  and 
then  conducted  to  the   market   place,   where  the 


THE   QUEEN'S    ARMY    PASSING   THROUGH    ENGLAND. 

people  were  assembled.  At  that  place  he  was 
bound  to  a  high  scaffold,  in  order  that  he  might 
be  more  easily  seen  by  the  people.  Certain  por- 
tions of  his  body  were  first  cut  off,  because  he 
was  deemed  a  heretic,  and  guilty  of  unnatural 
practices,  even  with  the  king,  whose  affections  he 
had  alienated  from  the  queen  by  his  wicked  sug- 
gestions.    The  parts  which  had  been  severed  were 


344 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


then  cast  into  a  large  fire,  kindled  close  to  him ; 
afterwards,  his  heart  was  torn  out  and  thrown  into 
the  same  fire,  because  it  had  been  false  and  trai- 
torous, since  he  had  by  his  treasonable  counsels 
so  advised  the  king  as  to  bring  shame  and  mis- 
chief on  the  land,  ajul  had  caused  some  of  the 
greatest  lords  to  be  beheaded,  and  had  so  seduced 
the  king  that  he  could  not  nor  would  not  see  the 
queen  nor  his  eldest  son,  who  was  to  be  their 
future  sovereign,  both  of  whom,  in  order  to  pre- 
serve their  lives,  had  been  forced  to  quit  the  king- 


DESCRIPTION    OF   THE   SCOTTISH    ARMY    IN 
THE  DAYS  OF  BRUCE. 

7TYE  quote  the  following  interesting  descrip- 
\XJ  tion  of  the  Scottish  army,  commanded  by 
Robert  Bruce  during  the  last  years  of  his  life, 
from  the  chronicles  of  Sir  John  Froissart.  It  af- 
fords a  most  excellent  idea  of  what  an  army  really 
was  in  those  days,  and  takes  away  much  of  the 
glamor  with  which  romancers  have  clothed  the 
rough  heroes  of  those  ancient  times  : 
The  Scots  are  bold,  hardy,  and  much  inured  to 


A  SCOTTISH  ARMY  OF 

dom.  His  head  w7as  then  cut  off  and  sent  to 
Xrondou. 

The  young  Prince  Edward  was  crowned  with 
the  royal  diadem  in  the  palace  of  Westminster  on 
Christmas  Day,  1326.  He  was  then  only  sixteen 
years  of  age.  King  Edward  II.,  his  father,  was 
imprisoned  in  Berkeley  Castle,  where  he  was 
cruelly  murdered  in  bed  one  morning  ;  his  bowels 
having  been  burnt  out  with  hot  irons. 

Thus  ends  the  romantic  and  wonderful  story 
of  Queen  Isabella  of  England. 


the  olden  time. 

war.  When  they  make  their  invasions  into  Eng- 
land, they  march  from  twenty  to  four-and-twenty 
leagues  without  halting,  as  well  by  night  as  da37; 
for  they  are  all  on  horseback,  except  the  camp 
followers,  who  are  on  foot.  The  knights  and 
esquires  are  well  mounted  on  large  bay  horses, 
the  common  people  on  little  galloways.  They 
bring  no  carriages  with  them  on  account  of  the 
mountains  they  have  to  pass  in  Northumberland  ; 
neither  do  they  carry  with  them  any  provisions 
or  bread  or  wine  ;  for  their  habits  of  sobriety  are 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


345 


such,  in  time  of  war,  that  they  will  live  for  a  long 
time  on  flesh  half  sodden,  without  bread,  and 
drink  the  river  water  without  wine.  They  have, 
therefore,  no  occasion  for  pots  or  pans  ;  for  they 
dress  the  flesh  of  their  cattle  in  the  skins,  after 
they  have  taken  them  off;  and,  being  sure  to  find 
plenty  of  them  in  the  country  in  which  the}-  invade 
they  carry  none  with  them.  Under  the  flaps  of 
his  saddle,  each  man  carries  a  broad  plate  of 
metal ;  behind  the  saddle,  a  little  bag  of  oatmeal : 
when  they  have  eaten  too  much  of  the  sodden 
flesh,  and  their  stomachs  appear  weak  and  empty, 
they  place  their  plate  over  the  fire,  mix  with 
water  their  oatmeal,  and  when  the  plate  is 
heated,  they  put  a  little  of  the  paste  upon  it,  and 
make  a  thin  cake,  like  a  cracknel  or  biscuit, 
which  they  eat  to  warm  their  stomachs ;  it  is 
therefore  no  wonder,  that  they  perform  a  longer 
day's  march  than  other  soldiers.  In  this  manner 
the  Scots  entered  England,  destroying  and  burn- 
ing everything  as  they  passed.  They  seized  more 
cattle  than  they  knew  what  to  do  with.  Their 
army  consisted  of  four  thousand  men-at-arms, 
knights  and  esquires,  well  mounted ;  besides 
twenty  thousand  men,  bold  and  hardy,  armed 
after  the  manner  of  their  country,  and  mounted 
upon  little  hackneys,  that  are  never  tied  up  or 
dressed,  but  turned,  immediately  after  the  day's 
march,  to  pasture  on  the  heath  or  in  the  fields. 


THE  HEART  OF  ROBERT  BRUCE. 

OOON  after  the  crowning  of  Edward  III.,  in 
S«P  1327,  Robert  Bruce,  of  Scotland,  sent  an 
army  into  England,  under  command  of  the  Earl 
of  Moray  and  Sir  James  Douglass.  It  was  this 
army  which  Froissart  has  so  graphically  described 
in  the  preceding  article. 

To  meet  and  repel  the  Scots,  Edward  mustered 
an  army  of  over  40,000  men,  and  led  them  in 
person  ;  but  no  battles  resulted  from  this  expe- 
dition. The  Scots,  being  inferior  in  numbers  to 
the  English,  refused  to  descend  from  the  moun- 
tain heights  and  strongholds  in  which  the)'  had 
encamped,  and  the  English  did  not  deem  it  pru- 
dent to  force  an  engagement.  Several  combats, 
however,  took  place  between  small  parties,  one 
of  which  is  thus  related  by  Sir  John  Froissart : 

' '  The  first  night  that  the  English  were  posted 
on  this  second  mountain,  the  lord  James  Douglass 
took  with  him  about  two  hundred  men-at-arms ; 
and  at  midnight  crossed  the  river  at  such  a  dis- 


tance from  the  camp  that  he  was  not  noticed,  and 
fell  upon  the  English  army  most  valiantly,  shout- 
ing, '  Douglass  forever.  Ye  shall  die,  ye  English 
thieves.' 

' '  He  and  his  companions  killed  more  than  three 
hundred  ;  and  he  galloped  up  to  the  king's  tent 
and  cut  two  or  three  of  its  cords,  crying  at  the 
same  time,  '  Douglass  !  Douglass  forever  ! '  when 
he  set  off,  and  in  his  retreat  he  lost  some  of  his 


ROBERT   BRUCE,    KING   OF  SCOTLAND. 

followers,  but  not  man}-.  He  then  returned  to 
his  friends  on  the  mountains." 

Lord  Berners  wrote  an  account  of  this  incident 
in  1523,  and  as  the  peculiarities  of  the  English 
language  at  that  time  adds  interest  to  the  adven- 
ture, we  will  copy  it  verbatim  : 

' '  The  fyrst  nyght  that  the  Englisshe  ost  was 
thus  lodged  on  the  second  mountaigne,  the  lorde 
William  Duglas  toke  with  hym  aboute  CC  men- 
at-armes,  &  past  the  ryver  farre  afro  the  oste,  so 
that  he  was  not  parceyued  :  and  rodely  he  brake 
into  the  Englysshe  ooste  about  mydnyght  crying, 
'  Duglas !  Duglas  !  ye  shall  dye,  ye  theves  of  Ing- 
land.'  And  he  slewe  or  he  seased  CCC  men, 
some  in  thire  beddes,    and  some  skan  redy,  and 


346 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


he  strake  his  horse  with  the  spurres  &  earne  to 
the  kyng's  owne  tente,  ahvayes  crying  Duglas, 
and  strake  a  sundre  ii  or  iii  cordis  of  the  kyng 
tent,  &  so  departed. 

The  following  incident  of  this  campaign  is  also 
related  by  Froissart,  and  serves  a  good  purpose 
in  depicting  the  customs  of  the  times.     He  says  : 

' '  Some  of  the  English  mounted  their  horses, 
passed  the  river  and  went  to  the  mountain  which 
the  Scots  had  quitted,  and  found  more  than  five 
hundred  large  cattle,  which  the  enemy  had  killed, 
as  the}-  were  too  heavy  to  carry  with  them,  and 
too  slow  to  follow  them,  and  they  wished  not  to 
let  them  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  English  alive. 


'Jwm¥k 


THE     SCOTCH     ARMY     HOSTED     ON     THE     MOUNTAIN 

engraving. ) 
The}-  found  there  also  more  than  three  hundred 
caldrons,  which  were  hung  on  the  fires  full  of 
water  and  meat,  and  ready  for  boiling.  There 
were  also  upward  of  a  thousand  spits  with  meat 
on  them,  prepared  for  roasting ;  and  more  than 
ten  thousand  pairs  of  old  worn-out  shoes,  made 
of  undressed  leather,  which  the  Scots  had  left 
there.  There  were  found  five  poor  English  pris- 
oners, whom  the  Scots  had  bound  naked  to  the 
trees,  and  some  of  them  had  their  legs  broken." 

The  expedition  resulted  in  a  total  failure,  and 
it  is  said  that  the  young  King  Edward  wept  when 
he  found  himself  out-generalled  by  an  inferior 
enemy. 

After  the  withdrawal  of  the  English  army,  the 
Scots  returned  to  their  native  mountains  and  dis- 
banded ;  and  a  few  months  later  a  truce   of  three 


years  was  concluded  between  the  rulers  of  the  two 
countries. 

Bruce  was  a  peculiarly  gallant  and  generous 
king,  exhibiting  toward  his  enemies  whom  he 
conquered  a  spirit  of  kindness  and  huniunity 
totally  at  variance  with  the  cruel  practices  of  his 
times.  Brave  and  chivalrous  himself,  he  greatly 
admired  the  same  qualities  in  those  who  fought 
against  him  ;  and  many  an  enemy  captured  in 
battle  had  cause  to  be  thankful  for  having  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  so  noble  a  conqueror  as  Robert 
Bruce. 

We  will  now  proceed,  in  the  language  of  Frois- 
sart, to  record  the  singular  circumstances  of  the 
death  of  Robert  Bruce,  and  the 
promise  he  exacted  from  Sir 
James  Douglas  to  convey  his 
heart  to  the  holy  sepulchre  at 
Jerusalem,  with  the  tragic  termi- 
nation of  his  efforts  to  comply 
with  this  promise.  Bruce  died 
of  leprosy,  after  having  suffered 
for  some  years  from  this  loath- 
some disease,  a  fact  which  we 
have  not  seen  generally  stated 
in  our  histories. 

During  the  three  years'  truce 
previously  referred  to,  it  hap- 
pened, says  Froissart,  that  King 
Robert  of  Scotland,  who  had 
been  a  very  valiant  knight, 
waxed  old,  and  was  attacked 
-with  so  severe  an  illness,  that 
he  saw  his  end  was  approach- 
ing ;  he  therefore  summoned  together  all  the 
chiefs  and  barons,  in  whom  he  most  confided, 
and,  after  having  told  them  that  he  should  never 
get  the  better  of  this  sickness,  he  commanded 
them,  upon  their  honor  and  loyalty,  to  keep  and 
preserve  faithfully  and  entire  the  kingdom  for  his 
son  David,  and  obey  him  and  crown  him  king 
when  he  was  of  a  proper  age,  and  to  marry  him 
with  a  lady  suitable  to  his  station. 

He  after  that  called  to  the  gallant  lord  James 
Douglas,  and  said  to  him,  in  presence  of  the 
others,  ' '  My  dear  lord  James  Douglas,  you  know 
that  I  have  had  much  to  do,  and  have  suffered 
many  troubles,  during  the  time  I  have  lived,  to 
support  the  rights  of  my  crown  ;  at  the  time  that 
I  was  most  occupied,  I  made  a  vow,  the  non- 
accomplishment  of  which  gives  me  much  uneasi- 


Copv    of  an    ancient 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


347 


ness — I  vowed,  that,  if  I  could  finish  my  wars  in 
such  a  manner,  that  I  might  have  quiet  to  govern 
peaceably,  I  would  go  and  make  war  against  the 
enemies  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  adver- 
saries of  the  Christian  faith.  To  this  point  my 
heart  has  always  leaned  ;  but  our  Lord  was  not 
willing,  and  gave  me  so  much  to  do  in  my  life- 
time, and  this  last  expedition  has  lasted  so  long, 
followed  by  this  heavy  sickness,   that,  since  my 


loyalty,  that  if  you  undertake  it,  it  cannot  fail  of 
success — and  I  shall  die  more  contented  ;  but  it 
must  be  executed  as  follows  : 

' '  I  will,  that  as  soon  as  I  shall  be  dead,  you 
take  ni)'  heart  from  my  bod)',  and  have  it  well 
embalmed ;  you  will  also  take  as  much  money 
from  my  treasury  as  will  appear  to  you  sufficient 
to  perform  your  journey,  as  well  as  for  all  those 
whom  vou  may  choose  to  take  with  vou  in  vour 


BRUCE    ORDERING   THE   RELEASE   OF    CAPTIVES. 


body  cannot  accomplish  what  my  heart  wishes,  I 
will  send  my  heart  in  the  stead  of  my  body  to 
fulfill  my  vow.  And,  as  I  do  not  know  any  one 
knight  so  gallant  or  enterprising,  or  better  formed 
to  complete  my  intentions  than  yourself,  I  beg 
and  entreat  you,  dear  and  special  friend,  as  earn- 
estly as  I  can,  that  you  would  have  the  goodness 
to  undertake  this  expedition  for  the  love  of  me, 
and  to  acquit  my  soul  to  our  Lord  and  Saviour  ; 
for  I  have  that    opinion  of  your  nobleness  and 


train  ;  you  will  then  deposit  your  charge  at  the 
Holy  Sepulchre  of  our  Lord,  where  he  was  buried, 
since  my  body  cannot  go  there.  You  will  not  be 
sparing  of  expense — and  provide  yourself  with 
such  company  and  such  things  as  may  be  suitable 
to  your  rank — and  wherever  you  pass,  you  will 
let  it  be  known,  that  you  bear  the  heart  of  King 
Robert  of  Scotland,  which  you  are  carrying  be- 
yond seas  by  his  command,  since  his  body  cannot 
go  thither ." 


34S 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


All  those  present  began  wailing  bitterly  ;  and 
when  the  lord  James  could  speak,  he  said  : 

"  Gallant  and  noble  king,  I  return  you  a  hun- 
dred thousand  thanks  for  the  high  honor  you  do 
me,  and  for  the  valuable  and  dear  treasure  with 


' '  Certainly 
knight.  He 
knighthood. 

The  king  said,    ' 
now   die   in    peace 


sir,  most  willingly,"  answered  the 
then   gave  his  promise  upon    his 


ROBERT    BRUCE  S    CHARGE   TO   LORD  JAMES    DOUGLAS, 

which  you  intrust  me  ;  and  I  will  most  willingly 
do  all  that  you  command  me  with  the  utmost 
loyalty  in  my  power  ;  never  doubt  it,  however  I 
may  feel  unworthy  of  such  a  high  distinction." 

The    king  replied,    "Gallant   knight,   I  thank 
you— you  promise  it  me  then  ? ' ' 


Thanks  be  to  God  !  for  I  shall 
since  I  know  that  the  most 
valiant  and  accomplished 
knight  of  my  kingdom  will 
perform  that  for  me  which  I 
am  unable  to  do  for  myself. ' ' 
Soon  afterwards  the  gal- 
lant Robert  Bruce,  king  of 
Scotland,  departed  this  life, 
the  7th  day  of  November, 
1337.  His  heart  was  em- 
balmed, and  his  body  buried 
in  the  monastery  of  Dun- 
fermline. 

Early  in  the  spring,  the 
Lord  James  Douglas  having 
made  provision  of  every- 
thing that  was  proper  for  his 
expedition,  embarked  at  the 
port  of  Montrose,  and  sailed 
directly  for  Sluys,  in  Flan- 
ders, in  order  to  learn  if  any 
one  were  going  beyond  the 
sea  to  Jerusalem,  that  he 
might  join  companies.  He 
remained  there  twelve  days, 
and  would  not  set  his  foot  on 
shore,  but  staid  the  whole- 
time  on  board,  where  he 
kept  a  magnificent  table, 
with  music  of  trumpets  and 
drums,  as  if  he  had  been 
king  of  Scotland.  His  com- 
pany consisted  of  one  knight 
banneret,  and  seven  others 
of  the  most  valiant  knights 
of  Scotland,  without  count- 
ing the  rest  of  his  house- 
hold. His  plate  was  of  gold 
and  silver,  consisting  of  pots, 
basins,  porringers,  cups,  bot- 
tles, barrels  and  other  such 
things.  He  had  likewise  twenty-six  young  and 
gallant  esquires  of  the  best  families  in  Scotland  to 
wait  on  him  ;  and  all  those  who  came  to  visit  him 
were  handsomely  served  with  two  sorts  of  wine, 
and  two  sorts  of  spices — I  mean  those  of  a  certain 
rank.     At  last,  after  staying  at  Sluys  twelve  days, 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


349 


he  heard  that  Alphonso,  king  of  Spain,  was 
waging  war  against  the  Saracen  king  of  Granada. 
He  considered  that  if  he  should  go  thither  he  should 
employ  his  time  and  journey  according  to  the  late 
king's  wishes  ;  and  when  he  should  have  finished 


avail,  as  they  were  all  killed.  It  was  a  great 
misfortune  that  they  were  not  assisted  by  the 
Spaniards. 

Froissart  does  not  give  the  whole  of  this  in- 
teresting story,  which  is  as  follows  :  When  Doug- 


there  he  would  proceed  further  to  complete  that  las  and  his  company  made  their  desperate  attack 
with  which  he  was  charged. 
He  made  sail  therefore  to- 
ward Spain,  and  landed  first 
at  Valencia  ;  thence  he  went 
straight  to  the  king  of  Spain, 
who  was  with  his  army  on 
the  frontiers,  very  near  the 
Saracen  king  of  Granada. 

It  happened,  soon  after 
the  arrival  of  Sir  James 
Douglas,  that  the  king  of 
Spain  issued  forth  into  the 
fields,  to  make  his  ap- 
proaches nearer  the  enemy ; 
the  king  of  Granada  did 
the  same  ;  and  each  king 
could  easily  distinguish  the 
other's  banners,  and  they 
both  began  to  set  their 
armies  in  array.  The  Lord 
James  placed  himself  and 
his  company  on  one  side,  to 
make  better  work,  and  a 
more  powerful  effort.  When 
he  perceived  that  the  bat- 
talions on  each  side  were 
fully  arranged,  and  that  of 
the  king  of  Spain  in  motion, 
he  imagined  they  were 
about  to  begin  the  onset; 
and  as  he  always  wished 
to  be  among  the  first  rather 
than  last  on  such  occasions, 
he  and  his  company  stuck 
their  spurs  into  their  horses, 
until  they  were  in  the  midst 
of  the  king  of  Granada's 
battalion,  and  made  a  furious 
attack  on  the  Saracens.  He 
thought  that  he  should  be 

supported  by  the  Spaniards  ;  but  in  this  he  was 
mistaken,  for  not  one  that  day  followed  his  ex- 
ample. The  gallant  knight  and  all  his  com- 
panions were  surrounded  by  the  enemy  ;  the)-  pre- 
formed prodigies  of  valor ;  but  they  were  of  no 


SIR  JAMES   DOUGLAS    ENTERTAINS   HIS   FRIENDS. 

upon  the  Moors,  there  was  a  quick,  sharp,  and 
bloody  combat,  and  that  portion  of  the  Moorish 
army  with  which  the}-  were  engaged  fled.  Doug- 
las, with  his  companions,  rapidly  pursued  the 
flying  Saracens,  and,   taking  from  his  neck  the 


350 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,    AND   THE 


casket  which  held  the  heart  of  Bruce,  he  threw 
it  before  him,  crying,  "  Now,  pass  thou  onward,  as 
thou  icast  zcont,  and  Douglas  will  follow  thee  or  did' ' 
But  the  fugitives  rallied,  and,  surrounded  and 
overwhelmed  by  superior  numbers,  Douglas  fell, 
while  attempting  to  rescue  Sir  William  St.  Clare, 
who  shared  his  fate.  Robert  and  Walter  Logan, 
brothers,  and  both  of  them  knights,  were  also 
slain    with    Dousrlas.       His   friend.    Sir   William 


where  it  remains  an  object  of  historic  interest  for 
tourists. 

Archibald  Douglas,  natural  son  of  Sir  James, 
erected  a  marble  monument  to  his  memory,  but 
his  countrymen  have  more  effectually  preserved 
his  renown  by  bestowing  on  him  the  title  of 
' '  the  good  Sir  James  Douglas. ' '  Contempo- 
rary historians  state  that  he  fought  seventy 
battles,  in  fifty-seven  of  which  he  was  victorious. 


THE  CAPTURE 
OF  EDIN- 
BURGH CAS- 
TLE BY  SIR 
WILLIAM 
DOUGLAS. 


npi 


DOUGLAS  S  BATTLE  WITH  THE  SARACENS. 


Keith,  having  had  his  arm  broken,  was  not  m 
this  engagement,  and  accordingly  escaped.  His 
few  surviving  comrades  found  his  body  in  the 
field,  after  the  battle  was  over,  together  with  the 
casket  containing  the  heart  of  Bruce,  and  reve- 
rently conveyed  them  to  Scotland.  The  remains 
of  Douglas  were  interred  in  the  sepulchre  of  castle: 
his  fathers,  in  the  church  of  Douglas,  and  the  burgh, 
heart    of     Bruce    was     deposited     at      Melrose,  A  strong  English  garrison,  under  command  ot 


HE  bold  ex- 
ploit of  Sir 
William    Doug- 
las,  in  the  cap- 
ture  of   E  d  i  n  - 
burgh    Castle, 
has   been  im- 
mortalized in 
history,    song, 
a  n  d     romance  ; 
but    we    do   not 
remember    to 
have   seen  the 
circum  stances 
minutely  stated, 
as  they  were  re- 
corded   at  the 
time  by  contem- 
porary authors. 
Sir  W  i  1 1  i  a  m 
^j  was    a    nephew 
of  Sir  James 
Douglas,   some 
of  whose  deeds 
are  recorded   in 
the  preceding 
article  ;  and  his  fame  is    no  less  brilliant  in  the 
annals   of  Scotland   than  that  of    his  illustrious 
kinsman. 

Edward   III.,   of  England,    had  invaded  Scot- 
land, carrying  havoc  and   desolation  before  him, 
and   capturing  many   of  the  principal   forts    and 
anion?  others  those  at  Stirling  and  Edin- 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


351 


Sir  Walter  Simonsin,  was  placed  in  the  latter,  and 
they  greatly  annoyed  and  incensed  the  Scots  by 
their  frequent  raids  upon  the  people  of  the  ad- 
jacent country,  and  the  outrages  which  they 
inflicted  upon  the  inhabitants. 

Edinburgh  Castle  is  built  upon  the  point  of  a 
steep  and  rocky  hill,  and  almost  inaccessible 
except  by  the  regular  pathway  cut  in  the  rocks. 
Before  the  days  of  cannon  it  was  practically  im- 
pregnable, and  could  only  be  reduced  by  strata- 


read}'   for    any    desperate    undertaking,    readily 
acquiesced  in  his  suggestions. 

Collecting  two  hundred  Highland  lancers,  and 
purchasing  a  cargo  of  oats,  oatmeal,  coal,  and 
straw,  the}-  procured  a  small  vessel  and  put  to 
sea  ;  but  having  passed  out  of  sight  of  land, 
they  returned  and  anchored  peaceably  in  a  har- 
bor about  three  miles  from  Edinburgh,  repre- 
senting themselves  as  merchants  or  tradesmen. 
At  night  the  three  leaders  chose  ten  or  twelve  of 


EDINBURGH   CASTLE. 

gem  or  famine.  The  accompanying  illustration 
is  a  very  fine  and  accurate  picture  of  the  castle 
and  its  immediate  surroundings,  as  they  now 
appear,  and  as  they  were  in  the  days  of  Bruce 
and  the  Douglases. 

One  day  while  pondering  over  the  disasters  and 
sorrows  of  his  country,  a  bold  thought  came  into 
Sir  William  Douglas's  mind,  which  he  communi- 
cated to  three  of  his  companions,  the  earl  of  Dun- 
bar, Sir  Robert  Fraser,  and  Alexander  Ramsey. 
They,  being  daring  spirits  like  himself,  and  ever 


their  most  trustworthy  men,  whom  they  dressed 
in  old,  threadbare  clothes,  with  torn  hats,  like 
poor  tradesmen,  and  loaded  twelve  small  horses 
with  oats,  oatmeal,  and  coal  ;  they  then  placed 
the  rest  of  their  men  in  ambuscade  in  an  old 
abbey  that  was  in  ruins  and  uninhabited,  close 
to  the  foot  of  the  mountain  on  which  the  castle 
stands.  At  daybreak,  the  pretended  merchants, 
with'  their  arms  concealed,  took  the  road  with 
their  horses  and  ascended  the  narrow  pathway  as 
well   as   they   could   toward   the   castle.     When 


352 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


they  were  about  half-way  up,  Sir  William  and 
Sir  Robert  Fraser  advanced  in  front  of  the  others, 
whom  the}'  ordered  to  follow  ;  and  thus  they 
ascended  until  they  came  to  the  porter's  lodge. 
Here  they  boldly  announced  their  presence,  and 
informed  the  porter  that  they  had  brought,  with 
many  risks  and  fears,  coals,  oats  and  meal,  and, 


THE   FIGHT   IN   THE   CASTLE. 

if  the  English  were  in  need  of  such  articles,  they 
would  be  glad  to  dispose  of  them  at  a  cheap  rate. 
He  explained  that  the  garrison  would  thankfully 
take  them,  but  it  was  so  early  he  dared  not 
awake  either  the  governor  or  his  steward  ;  at  the 


same  time  he  told  them  to  come  forward  and 
he  would  open  the  gate.  They  all  then  passed 
quietly  through,  and  entered  with  their  loads  to 
the  gate  of  the  barriers,  which  he  also  opened 
for  them. 

Sir  William  Douglas  noticed  that  the  porter 
had  all  the  great  keys  of  the  castle  gates,  and  he 
inquired,  in  an  apparently 
indifferent  manner,  which 
opened  the  main  gate  and 
which  the  wicket.  When  the 
first  gate  was  opened  they 
turned  in  their  nags,  and  fling- 
ing off  the  loads  of  two,  which 
consisted  of  coal,  directly  in 
the  way  of  the  gate,  so  it 
could  not  be  closed,  they 
seized  the  porter  and  slew  him 
so  suddenly  that  he  could 
not  utter  a  word.  They  then 
took  the  keys  and  opened  all 
the  gates  ;  and  Douglas  gave 
a  blast  upon  his  horn  as  a  sig- 
nal to  those  who  were  in  am- 
bush, after  which  they  tore 
off  their  old  clothes  and 
stepped  forth  in  their  glisten- 
ing armor.  As  soon  as  those 
who  were  in  hiding  heard  the 
horn  they  rushed  forth  and 
hastened  toward  the  castle,  as 
had  been  previously  agreed 
upon.  The  noise  of  the  horn 
also  awakened  the  guards  of 
the  castle,  who,  seeing  armed 
men  running  up  the  hill, 
sounded  the  alarm,  and  roared, 
' '  Treason  !  treason  !  Arm 
yourselves,  my  masters,  as 
fast  as  you  can,  for  here  are 
men-at-arms  advancing  to  our 
castle  ! ' '  The  garrison  roused 
themselves  as  quickly  as  they 
could,  and  seizing  their  arms, 
rushed  to  the  gate,  but  Sir 
William  and  his  twelve  com- 
panions defended  it  so  that  it  could  not  be  shut. 
The  combat  then  grew  hot  and  fierce,  but  the 
Scots  maintained  their  ground  with  great  valor 
until  their  friends  who  had  been  in  ambush  ar- 
rived.    The  English  made  a  gallant  defence,  kill- 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


353 


ing  and  wounding  a  number  of  the  assailants  ;  but 
Sir  William  and  his  men  fought  with  the  des- 
peration of  men  determined  to  win  or  die,  so  that 
in  a  short  time  they  were  masters  of  the  castle, 
and  all  the  English  were  slain  except  the  gov- 
ernor and  six  esquires,  to  whom  they  showed 
mercy. 

This  was  one  of  the  most  daring  adventures 
that  ever  took  place  in  the  history  of  any  nation, 
and  could  only  have  been  sue-  „«i.yB* 

cessful  through  the    strategy 
and  daring:  of  a  Douglas. 


After  many  weary  months  of  siege  and  battle 
and  suffering,  and  an  ineffectual  attempt  on  the 
part  of  the  French  king  to  relieve  the  place,  the 
citizens  of  Calais  saw  clearly  that  all  their  hopes 
were  gone,  and  that  nothing  remained  for  them 
but  to  make  the  best  terms  they  could  with  King 
Edward.  They,  therefore,  earnestly  entreated 
their  governor,  Lord  John  of  Vienne,  to  mount 
the  battlements  and  make  a  sign  that  he  wished 


QUEEN  PHILIPPA  AND  THE 
CITIZENS    OF    CALAIS. 

IT  was  a  happy  and  fortu- 
nate affair  of  love  which 
led  to  the  marriage  between 
Edward  III.  of  England  and 
Philippa,  the  beautiful  daugh- 
ter of  the  Earl  of  Hainault. 
She  proved  to  be  a  queen 
worthy  of  so  great  and  gener- 
ous a  monarch.  She  not  only 
won  the  esteem  and  love  of  his 
subjects,  by  her  kind  and 
gentle  manners,  but  when  the 
Scots  invaded  England  during 
his  absence  in  the  campaign 
against  Philip  of  France, 
which  resulted  in  the  remark- 
able victory  of  Crecy  and  the 
capitulation  of  Calais,  she 
hastily  collected  such  an  army 
as  she  could  at  the  moment, 
and,  infusing  into  the  soldiers 
some  degree  of  her  own  spirit, 
drove  the  Scotch  back  to  their 
native  mountains.  She  then 
crossed  the  channel  and  joined 
her  husband  in  his  camp  be- 
fore the  city  of  Calais,  which 
soon  afterwards  capitulated.  Her  conduct  on 
that  occasion  reveals  her  true  womanly  nature, 
and  proves  that  she  was  as  generous  and  kind 
as  she  was  brave.  This  incident  forms  one  of 
the  brightest  pages  in  history,  and  is  deserving 
of  more  than  a  passing  notice.  We  adapt  our 
description  from  the  chronicles  of  that  charming 
old  writer,  Sir  John  Froissart. 
23 


KING    EDWARD    III. 

to  hold  a  parley.  He  accordingly  did  as  they 
had  requested  him,  and  King  Edward  in  response 
sent  Sir  Walter  Manny  and  Ford  Basset  to  con- 
fer with  him.  In  this  conference  de  Vienne  in- 
formed them  that  the  people  of  Calais  had  en- 
deavored to  faithfully  serve  their  king  and 
country,  as  the  English  would  have  done  under 
like   circumstances ;  but  that  now  all  hope  ha'i 


854 


THE   WONDERFUL,    THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


left  theru,  and  they  entreated  that  they  might  be 
allowed  to  depart  in  their  present  condition,  leav- 


SIR  JOHN    MANNY    BEFOE.B    KIN 

ing  the  fortifications  and  the  town,  with  all  its 
riches,  as  the  spoils  of  the  conquerors. 

To  this  address  Sir  John   Manny   replied  that      stances : 


the  king  would  not  consent  to  such  terms  ;  that 
he  was  greatly  enraged  at  the  obstinate  resist- 
ance of  the  Cala- 
sians,  and  was 
determined  that 
they  should  sur- 
render to  his  will 
to  ransom  those 
whom  he  chose, 
and  to  put  to 
death  those  who 
by  their  obsti- 
nate resistance 
had  cost  him 
so  many  lives 
and  so  much 
money. 

"These  are 
hard  condi- 
tions," replied 
de  Vienne,  "  and 
I  entreat  you 
out  of  compas- 
sion, to  return  to 
your  king,  and 
beg  of  him  to 
have  pity  on  us  : 
for  I  have  such 
an  opinion  of  his 
gallantly  as  to 
hope  that, 
through  God's 
mercy,  he  will 
alter  his  mind.': 
The  two  Eng- 
1  i  s  h  gentlemen 
returned  to  the 
king,  and  related 
what  had  passed. 
The  king  said 
he  had  no  in- 
tention of  com- 
plying with  this 
request,  but 
should  insist 
that  they  sur- 
render them- 
edward.  selves  uncondi- 

tionally to  his  will.     Sir  Walter  replied,   with  a 
boldness  that  seems  surprising  under  the  circum- 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


355 


"  My  lord,  you  may  be  to  blame  in  this,  as 
you  will  set  us  a  very  bad  example  ;  for  if  you  or- 
der us  to  go  to  any  of  your  castles,  we  shall  not 
draw  our  swords  so  cheerfully  if  you  put  these 


expect  from  me,  is  that  six  of  the  principal  citi- 
zens march  out  of  the  town,  with  bare  heads  and 
feet,  with  ropes  around  their  necks,  and  the  keys 
of  the  town  and  castle  in  their  hands.     These  six 


SIR  JOHN   DE   VIENNE    EXPLAINING   TO   THE   PEOPLE  THE   CONDITIONS   OF  THE   SURRENDER. 


people  to  death  ;  for  they  will  retaliate  upon  us  iu 
a  similar  case." 

Many  barons  who  were  present  supported  this 
opinion  ;  whereupon  the  king  replied:  "Gentle- 
men, I  am  not  so  obstinate  as  to  hold  my  opinion 
against  you  all.  Sir  Walter,  you  may  inform  the 
governor  of  Calais  that  the  only  grace  he  must 


persons  shall  be  at  my  absolute  disposal,  but  the 
remainder  of  the  inhabitants  will  be  pardoned." 

When  the  king  had  expressed  his  final  deter- 
mination, Sir  Walter  returned  to  Sir  John  de 
Vienne,  who  had  remained  on  the  battlements 
anxiously  awaiting  the  issue  of  the  conference. 
When  he  heard  the  king's  decision,  he  returned 


356 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


sorrowfully  to  the  town,  and  caused  the  bell  to  be 
rung  as  a  sign  for  the  people  to  collect  in  the 
market  place  ;  and  when  all  the  men,  women,  and 
children  had  come  together,  he  told  them  what 
had  taken  place,  and  the  hard  conditions  upon 
which  the  king  would  accept  their  submission. 
This  information  caused  the  greatest  lamentation 


QUEEN    PHILIPl'A    PLEADING    FOR   THE   a 

and  despair,  and  the  hardest  heart  would  have 
had  compassion  on  them  ;  Sir  John  wept  bit- 
terly. 

After  a  short  time,  the  most  wealthy  citizen  of 
the  town,  named  Eustace  de  St.  Pierre,  arose  and 
said  :  Gentlemen,  both  high  and  low,  it  would  be 


a  great  pity  to  suffer  so  many  people  to  die 
through  famine,  if  any  means  could  be  found  to 
prevent  it,  and  it  would  be  highly  meritorious  in 
the  eyes  of  our  Saviour  if  such  misery  could  be 
averted.  I  have  such  faith  and  trust  in  finding 
grace  before  God,  if  I  die  to  save  my  townsmen, 
that  I  name  myself  as  one  of  the  six."     When  he 

had  done  speak- 
ing, the}-  all  rose 
up  and  almost 
worshipped  him ; 
many  cast  them- 
selves at  his  feet 
with  tears  and 
groans.  Five 
other  prominent 
citizens  rose  up 
one  after  the 
other,  and  of- 
ered  themselves 
as  his  compan- 
ions, so  that  the 
number  required 
was  thus  soon 
completed. 

Sir  John  de 
Vienne  then 
mounted  a  small 
hackney,  for  it 
was  with  diffi- 
cult}'  that  he 
could  walk  on 
account  of  his 
wounds,  and  con- 
ducted  the  six 
citizens  to  the 
gate,  through 
which  thejr  pass- 
ed, and  he  led 
them  on  to  the 
barriers,  where 
he  met  Sir  Wal- 
ter Manny,  who 
was  there  wait- 
ing for  him.  ' '  I 
deliver  up  to  you,"  said  he,  "as  governor 
of  Calais,  with  the  consent  of  the  inhabitants, 
these  six  citizens,  and  I  swear  to  you  that 
they  were  and  are  to  this  day,  the  most  wealthy 
and  respectable  inhabitants  of  Calais.  I  beg  of 
you,  gentle  sir,  that  you  would  have  the  goodness 


'NDE-MNED   CITIZENS. 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


357 


to  beseech  the  king  that  they  shall  not  be  put  to 
death."  "I  cannot  answer  for  what  the  king 
will  do  with  them, ' '  replied  Sir  Walter,  ' '  but  you 
may  depend  upon  it  that  I  shall  do  all  in  my 
power  to  save  them." 

When  Sir  Walter  had  presented  the  six  citizens 
to  the  king,  they  fell  upon  their  knees,  and  up- 
holding their  hands  said  :  ' '  Most  gallant  king, 
see  before  you  six  citizens  of  Calais  who  have 
been  capital  merchants,  and  who  bring  you  the 
keys  of  the  castle  and  of  the  town.  We  surrender 
ourselves  to  your  absolute  will  and  pleasure,  in 
order  to  save  the  remainder  of  the  inhabitants 
who  have  suffered  much  distress  and  misery. 
Condescend,  therefore,  out  of  your  nobleness  of 
mind,  to  have  mercy  and  compassion  upon  us." 
All  the  barons,  knights  and  esquires  who  were 
assembled  there  in  great  numbers,  wept  at  this 
sight.  The  king  looked  at  them  angrily,  for  he 
hated  the  people  of  Calais  on  account  of  the  great 
loss  he  had  suffered  from  them  ;  and  he  ordered 
the  heads  of  the  six  citizens  to  be  immediately 
stricken  off.  All  present  entreated  the  king  that 
he  be  more  merciful  to  them,  but  he  would  not 
listen  to  what  they  said.  He  immediately  sent 
the  headsman  and  ordered  that  the  Calasians 
should  be  executed  immediately  ;  whereupon  the 
queen  fell  upon  her  knees  and  with  tears  said  : 
"Ah,  gentle  sir,  since  I  have  crossed  the  sea  with 
great  danger  to  see  you,  I  have  never  asked  you 
one  favor  ;  now,  I  most  humbly  ask  a  gift,  for 
the  sake  of  the  Son  of  the  blessed  Mary,  and  for 
your  love  to  me,  that  you  will  be  merciful  to  these 
six  men."  The  king  looked  at  her  for  some  time 
in  silence,  and  then  said  :  "  Ah,  lad}',  I  wish  that 
you  had  been  anywhere  else  than  here  ;  you  have 
entreated  in  such  a  manner  that  I  cannot  refuse 
you  ,  I  therefore  give  them  to  you,  to  do  as  you 
please  with  them." 

The  queen  immediately  conducted  the  six  citi- 
zens to  her  apartments,  and  had  the  halters  taken 
from  round  their  necks,  after  which  she  clothed 
them  in  new  clothes,  and  served  them  with  a 
plentiful  dinner ;  she  then  presented  each  with 
six  nobles,  and  had  them  escorted  out  of  the  camp 
in  safety. 


THE  BOSTON  MASSACRE,  1770. 

ON  Friday  the  second  day  of  March,  a  soldier 
of  the  Twentj'-ninth  asked  to  be  employed 
at    Gray's  Ropewalk,    and  was  repulsed    in  the 


coarsest  words.  He  then  defied  the  ropemakers 
to  a  boxing  match  ;  and  one  of  them  accepting 
his  challenge,  he  was  beaten  off.  Returning  with 
several  of  his  companions,  they  too  were  driven 
away.  A  larger  number  came  down  to  renew  the 
fight  with  clubs  and  cutlasses,  and  in  their  turn 
encountered  defeat.  By  this  time  Gray  and  others 
interposed,  and  for  that  day  prevented  further  dis- 
turbance. 

There  was  an  end  to  the  affair  at  the  E_opewalk, 
but  not  at  the  barracks,  where  the  soldiers  in- 
flamed each  other's  passions,  as  if  the  honor  of 
the  regiment  were  tarnished.  On  Saturday  they 
prepared  bludgeons,  and  being  resolved  to  brave 
the  citizens  on  Monday  night,  they  forewarned 
their  particular  acquaintances  not  to  be  abroad. 
Without  duly  restraining  his  men,  Carr,  the  Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel of  the  Twenty-ninth,  made  com- 
plaint to  the  Lieutenant-Governor  of  the  insult 
they  had  received. 

The  council,  deliberating  on  Monday,  seemed  of 
the  opinion  that  the  town  would  never  be  safe  from 
quarrels  between  the  people  and  the  soldiers  as 
long  as  soldiers  should  be  quartered  among  them. 
In  the  present  case  the  owner  of  the  Ropewalk 
gave  satisfaction  by  dismissing  the  workmen  com- 
plained of. 

The  officers  should,  011  their  part,  have  kept 
their  men  within  the  barracks  after  night-fall.  In- 
stead of  it  they  left  them  to  roam  the  streets 
Hutchinson  should  have  insisted  on  measures  of 
precaution,  but  he,  too,  much  wished  the  favor 
of  all  who  had  influence  at  Westminster. 

Evening  came  on.  The  young  moon  was  shin- 
ing brightly  in  a  cloudless  winter  sky,  and  its 
light  was  increased  by  a  new  fallen  snow.  Parties 
of  soldiers  were  driving  about  the  streets,  making 
a  parade  of  valor,  challenging  resistance,  and 
striking  the  inhabitants  indiscriminately  with 
sticks  or  sheathed  cutlasses. 

A  band,  which  rushed  out  from  Murray's  Bar- 
racks in  Brattle  street,  armed  with  clubs,  cut- 
lasses, and  bayonets,  provoked  resistance,  and  an 
affray  ensued.  Ensign  Maul,  at  the  gate  of  the 
barrack-yard,  cried  to  the  soldiers,  "Turn  out 
and  I  will  stand  by  you  ;  kill  them  ;  stick  them  ; 
knock  them  down  ;  run  your  bayonets  through 
them  ; ' '  and  one  soldier  after  another  levelled  a 
firelock,  and  threatened  to  ' '  make  a  lane ' '  through 
the  crowd.  Just  before  nine,  as  an  officer  crossed 
King  street,  now  State  street,  a  barber's  lad  cried 


358 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND  THE 


after  him,  "There  goes  a  mean  fellow  who  hath 
not  paid  my  master  for  dressing  his  hair;"  on 
which  the  sentinel  stationed  at  the  westerly  end 
of  the  Custom-house,  on  the  corner  of  King  street 
and  Exchange  lane,  left  his  post,  and  with  his 
musket  gave  the  boy  a  stroke  on  the  head,  which 
made  him  stagger,  and  cry  for  pain. 

The  street  soon  became  clear,  and  nobody  trou- 
bled the  sentry,  when  a  party  of  soldiers  issued 
violently  from  the  main  guard,  their  arms  glitter- 


BRITISH    SOLDIERS   IN    BOSTON. 

ing  in  the  moonlight,  and  passed  on  hallooing, 
' '  Where  are  they  ?  where  are  they  ?  let  them 
come."  Presently  twelve  or  fifteen  more,  utter- 
ing the  same  cries,  rushed  from  the  south  into 
King  street,  and  so  by  way  of  Cornhill,  towards 
Murray's  Barracks.  "Pray,  soldiers,  spare  my 
life,"  cried  a  boy  of  twelve,  whom  the}1  met ;  ' '  No, 
no  ;  I'll  kill  you  all,"  answered  one  of  them,  and 


knocked  him  down  with  his  cutlass.  They 
abused  and  insulted  several  persons  at  their  doors, 
and  others  in  the  street,  "running  about  like 
madmen  in  a  fury,"  crying,  "Fire,"  which 
seemed  their  watchword,  and  "  Where  are  they? 
knock  them  down. ' '  Their  outrageous  behavior 
occasioned  the  ringing  of  the  bell  at  the  head 
of  King  street. 

The  citizens,  whom  the  alarm  set  in  motion, 
came  out  with  canes  and  clubs  ;  andpartly  by  the 
interference  of  well  disposed 
officers,  partly  by  the  courage 
of  Crispus  Attacks,  a  mulatto, 
and  some  others,  the  fray  at 
the  barracks  was  soon  over. 
Of  the  citizens,  the  prudent 
shouted,  "Home,  Home;" 
others,  it  was  said,  called  out, 
' '  Huzza  for  the  main  guard ; 
there  is  the  nest ; ' '  but  the 
main  guard  was  not  molested 
the  whole  evening. 

A  body  of  soldiers  came  up 
Royal  Exchange  lane,  crying 
' '  Where  are  the  cowards  ?  ' ' 
and  brandishing  their  arms, 
passed  through  King  street. 
From  ten  to  twenty  bo3^s  came 
after  them,  asking,  "Where 
are  they,  where  are  they?" 
' '  There  is  the  soldier  who 
knocked  me  down,"  said  the 
barber's  bo}r,  and  they  began 
pushing  one  another  towards 
the  sentinel. — He  primed  and 
loaded  his  musket.  ' '  The  lob- 
ster is  going  to  fire,"  cried  a 
boy.  Waving  his  piece  about, 
the  sentinel  pulled  the  trigger. 
' '  If  you  fire  you  must  die 
for  it,"  said  Henry  Knox, 
who  was  passing  by.  ' '  I  don' t 
care,"  replied  the  sentry  ; 
damn  them,  if  they  touch 
me  I'll  fire."  "Fire  and  be  damned,"  shouted 
the  boys,  for  they  were  persuaded  he  could 
not  do  it  without  leave  from  a  civil  officer ; 
and  a  young  fellow  spoke  out,  "We  will 
knock  him  down  for  snapping;"  while  they 
whistled  through  their  fingers  and  huzzaed. 
"Stand  off,"  said  the  sentry,  and  shouted  aloud, 
"Turn  out,   main  guard."      "They  are  killing 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


359 


the  sentinel,"  reported  a  servant  from  the  Custom- 
house, running  to  the  main  guard.  "  Turn  out ; 
why  don't  you  turn  out?"  cried  Preston,  who 
was  Captain  of  the  day,  to  the  guard.  "  He  ap- 
peared in  a  great  flutter  of  spirits,"  and  "spoke 
to  them  roughly. ' '  A  party  of  six,  two  of  whom, 
Kilroi  and  Montgomery,  had  been  worsted  at  the 
Ropewalk,  formed  with  a  corporal  in  front,  and 
Preston  following.  With  bayonets  fixed,  they 
haughtily    "rushed  through  the  people,"  upon 


been  standing,  gave  three  cheers,  and  passed 
along  the  front  of  the  soldiers,  whose  muskets 
some  of  them  struck  as  they  went  by. — "You  are 
cowardly  rascals,"  said  they,  "  for  bringing  arms 
against  naked  men  ;  "  "  lay  aside  your  guns,  and 
we  are  ready  for  you."  "Are  the  soldiers 
loaded?"  inquired  Palmes  of  Preston.  "Yes," 
he  answered,  "with  powder  and  ball."  "Are 
they  going  to  fire  upon  the  inhabitants  ?  ' '  asked 
Theodore  Bliss.       ' '  They    cannot,    without  my 

lf5SlfSfff|I 


The  boston  massacre. 


the  trot,  cursing  them  and  pushing  them  as  they 
went  along.  They  found  about  ten  persons 
round  the  sentry,  while  about  fifty  or  sixty  came 
down  with  them.  "  For  God's  sake,"  said  Knox, 
holding  Preston  by  the  coat,  ' '  take  your  men 
back  again  ;  if  they  fire,  your  life  must  answer 
for  the  consequences. "  "I  know  what  I  am 
about,"  said  he,  hastily,  and  much  agitated. 
None  pressed  on  them  or  provoked  them,  till 
they  began  loading,  when  a  party  of  about  twelve 
in  number,  with  sticks  in  their  hands,  moved 
from   the  middle  of  the  street,   where  they  had 


orders, ' '  replied  Preston  ;  while  the  ' '  town-born  ' ' 
called  out,  "  Come  on,  you  rascals,  you  bloody 
backs,  you  lobster  scoundrels,  fire  if  you  dare  ;  we 
know  you  dare  not. ' '  Just  then  Montgomery  re- 
ceived a  blow  from  a  stick  thrown,  which  hit  his 
musket;  and  the  word  "Fire"  being  given,  he 
stepped  a  little  on  one  side,  and  shot  Attucks,  who 
at  the  time  was  quietly  leaning  on  a  long  stick. 
The  people  immediately  began  to  move  off. 
"Don't  fire,"  said  Pangford,  the  watchman,  to 
Kilroi,  looking  him  full  in  the  face,  but  yet  he  did 
so,    and  Samuel   Gray,   who  was  standing  next 


360 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


Langford  with  his  hands  in  his  bosom,  fell  life- 
less. The  rest  fired  slowly  and  in  succession  on 
the  people,  who  were  dispersing.  One  aimed  de- 
liberately at  a  boy  who  was  running  for  safety. 
Montgomery  then  pushed  at  Palmes  to  stab  him  ; 
on  which  the  latter  knocked  his  gun  out  of  his 
hand,  and  levelling  a  blow  at  him,  hit  Preston. 
Three  persons  were  killed,  among  them  Attucks 
the  mulatto  ;  eight  were  wounded,  two  of  them 
mortally.  Of  all  the  eleven,  not  more  than  one 
had  had  any  share  in  the  disturbance. 

So  infuriated  were  the  soldiers,  that  when  the 
men  returned  to  take  up  the  dead,  they  prepared 
to  fire  again,  but  where  checked  by  Preston,  while 
the  Twenty-ninth  regiment  appeared  under  arms 
in  King  street,  as  if  bent  on  a  further  massacre. 
"This  is  our  time,"  cried  soldiers  of  the  Four- 
teenth ;  and  dogs  were  never  seen  more  greedy 
for  their  prey. 

The  bells  rung  in  all  the  churches  ;  the  town 
drums  beat.  "  To  arms,  to  arms,"  was  the  cry- 
And  now  was  to  be  tested  the  true  character  of 
Boston.  All  its  sons  came  forth,  excited  almost 
to  madness  :  many  were  absolutely  distracted  by 
the  sight  of  the  dead  bodies,  and  of  the  blood, 
which  ran  plentifully  in  the  street,  and  was  im- 
printed in  all  directions  by  the  foot-tracks  on  the 
snow.  "Our  hearts,"  says  Warren,  "  beat  to 
arms  ;  almost  resolved  by  one  stroke  to  avenge 
the  death  of  our  slaughtered  brethren. ' '  But  they 
stood  self-possessed  and  irresistible,  demanding 
justice,  according  to  the  law.  "Did  you  not 
know  that  you  should  not  have  fired  without  the 
order  of  a  civil  magistrate  ?  "  asked  Hutchinson, 
on  meeting  Preston.  "I  did  it,"  answered 
Preston,    "to  savemy  men." 

The  people  would  not  be  pacified  till  the  regi- 
ment was  confined  to  the  guard-room  and  the  bar- 
racks :  and  Hutchinson  himself  gave  assurances 
that  instant  inquiries  should  be  made  by  the 
county  magistrates.  The  body  of  them  then  re- 
tired, leaving  about  one  hundred  persons  to  keep 
watch  on  the  examination,  which  lasted  till 
three  hours  after  midnight.  A  warrant  was 
issued  against  Preston,  who  surrendered  himself 
to  the  Sheriff ;  and  the  soldiers  who  composed  the 
party  were  delivered  up  and  committed  to  prison. 
— George  Bancroft. 


GEORGIA  THEATRICS. 

FROM  "GEORGIA  SCENES,"  BY  A.  B.  EONGSTREET. 

f)APT  with  the  enchantment  of  the  season  and 
x\  the  scenery  around  me,  I  was  slowly  rising 
the  slope,  when  I  was  startled  by  loud,  profane 
and  boisterous  voices,  which  seemed  to  proceed 
from  a  thick  covert  of  undergrowth  about  two 
hundred  yards  in  the  advance  of  me,  and  about 
one  hundred  to  the  right  of  my  road. 

"  You  kin,  kin  you  ?" 

"Yes,  I  kin,  and  am  able  to  do  it !  Boo-oo-oo! 
Oh,  wake,  snakes,  and  walk  your  chalks!  Brim- 
stone  and  fire  !     Don't   hold   me,    Nick 

Stoval  !     The  fight's  made  up  and  let's  go  at  it. 

my  soul  if  I  don't  jump  down  his  throat, 

and  gallop  every  chitterling  out  of  him  before 
you  can  say  '  quit !'  " 

"Now,  Nick,  don't  hold  him!  Jist  let  the 
wildcat  come,  and  I'll  tame  him.  Ned'll  see  me 
a  fair  fight,  won't  you,  Ned  ?" 

"Oh,  yes;  I'll  see  you  a  fair  fight,  blast  my 
old  shoes  if  I  don't." 

"That's  sufficient,  as  Tom  Haynes  said  when 
he  saw  the  elephant.     Now  let  him  come." 

Thus  they  went  on,  with  countless  oaths  inter- 
spersed, which  I  dare  not  even  hint  at,  and  with 
much  that  I  could  not  distinctly  hear. 

In  Mercy's  name!  thought  I,  what  band  of 
ruffians  has  selected  this  holy  season  and  this 
heavenly  retreat  for  such  Pandaemonian  riots ! 
I  quickened  my  gait,  and  had  come  nearly  oppo- 
site to  the  thick  grove  whence  the  noise  pro- 
ceeded, when  my  eye  caught  indistinctly  and  at 
intervals,  through  the  foliage  of  the  dwarf-oaks 
and  hickories  which  intervened,  glimpses  of  a 
man  or  men,  who  seemed  to  be  in  a  violent  strug- 
gle ;  and  I  could  occasionally  catch  those  deep- 
drawn,  emphatic  oaths  which  men  in  conflict  ut- 
ter when  they  deal  blows.  I  dismounted,  and 
hurried  to  the  spot  with  all  speed.  I  had  over- 
come about  half  the  space  which  separated  it 
from  me,  when  I  saw  the  combatants  come  to  the 
ground,  and,  after  a  short  struggle,  I  saw  the 
uppermost  one  (for  I  could  not  see  the  other) 
make  a  heavy  plunge  with  both  his  thumbs,  and 
at  the  same  instant  I  heard  a  cry  in  the  accent 
of  keenest  torture,  "Enough  !"     My  eye's  out !" 

I  was  so  completely  horrorstruck,  that  I  stood 
transfixed  for  a  moment  to  the  spot  where  the  cry 
met  me.  The  accomplices  in  the  hellish  deed 
which  had  been  perpetrated  had  all  fled  at  my 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


361 


approach ;  at  least  I  supposed  so,  for  they  were 
not  to  be  seen. 

' '  Now,  blast  your  corn-shucking  soul, ' '  said 
the  victor  (a  youth  about  eighteen  years  old)  as 
he  rose  from  the  ground,  "come  cutt'n  your 
shines  'bout  me  agin,  next  time  I  come  to  the 
Courthouse,  will  you  !  Get  your  owl-eye  in  agin 
if  you  can  !" 

At  this  moment  he  saw  me  for  the  first  time. 
He  looked  excessively  embarrassed,  and  was 
moving  off,  when  I  called  to  him,  in  a  tone  em- 
boldened by  the  sacreduess  of  my  office  and  the 
iniquity  of  his  crime,  "Come  back,  you  brute! 
and  assist  me  in  relieving  your  fellow-mortal, 
whom  you  have  ruined  forever!" 

My  rudeness  subdued  his  embarrassment  in  an 
instant ;  and,  with  a  taunting  curl  of  the  nose, 
he  replied,  "You  needn't  kick  before  you're 
spurr'd.  There  a'nt  nobody  there,  nor  ha'nt 
been  no  then  I  was  jist  seein'  how  I  could  'a' 
/out.'"  So  saying,  he  bounded  to  his  plough, 
which  stood  in  the  corner  of  the  fence  about  fifty 
yards  beyond  the  battle-ground. 

And,  would  you  believe  it,  gentle  reader !  his 
report  was  true.  All  that  I  had  heard  and  seen 
was  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  Lincoln  re- 
hearsal ;  in  which  the  youth  who  had  just  left  me 
had  played  all  the  parts  of  all  the  characters  of  a 
Courthouse  fight. 

I  went  to  the  ground  from  which  he  had  risen, 
and  there  were  the  prints  of  his  two  thumbs, 
plunged  up  to  the  balls  in  the  mellow  earth, 
about  the  distance  of  a  man's  eyes  apart;  and 
the  ground  around  was  broken  up  as  if  two  stags 
had  been  engaged  upon  it. 


LETTER  FROM  A  MAN   WHO  HAD  BEEN 
CHALLENGED  TO  HIS  CHALLENGER. 

Q  IR:  I  have  two  objections  to  this  duel  matter. 
vO  The  one  is,  lest  I  should  hurt  you  ;  and  the 
other  is,  lest  you  should  hurt  me.  I  do  not  see 
any  good  it  would  do  me  to  put  a  bullet  thro'  any 
part  of  your  body.  I  could  make  no  use  of  you 
when  dead  for  any  culinary  purpose,  as  I  would  a 
rabbit  or  turkey.  I  am  no  cannibal  to  feed  on  the 
flesh  of  men.  Why  then  shoot  down  a  human 
creature,  of  which  I  could  make  no  use  ?  A  buf- 
falo would  be  better  meat.  For  though  your  flesh 
may  be  delicate  and  tender ;  yet  it  wants  that 
firmness  and  consistency  which  takes  and  retains 


salt.  At  any  rate,  it  would  not  be  fit  for  long  sea 
voyages.  You  might  make  a  good  barbecue,  it 
is  true,  being  of  the  nature  of  a  raccoon  or  an  opos- 
sum ;  but  people  are  not  in  the  habit  of  barbe- 
cuing any  thing  human.  As  to  your  hide,  it  is 
not  worth  taking  off,  being  little  better  than  that 
of  a  year  old  colt. 

It  would  seem  to  me  a  strange  thing  to  shoot  at 
a  man  that  would  stand  still  to  be  shot  at  ;  inas- 
much as  I  have  been  heretofore  used  to  shoot  at 
things  flying,   or  running,   or  jumping. 

As  to  myself,  I  do  not  much  like  to  stand  in  the 
way  of  any  thing  harmful.  I  am  under  appre- 
hensions you  might  hit  me.  That  being  the  case, 
I  think  it  most  advisable  to  stay  at  a  distance.  If 
you  want  to  try  your  pistols,  take  some  object,  a 
tree  or  a  barn  door,  about  my  dimensions.  If  you 
hit  that,  send  me  word,  and  I  shall  acknowledge 
that  if  I  had  been  in  the  same  place  you  might 
also  have  hit  me. 


A  TRIBUTE  TO   WOMAN. 

(  (. T  HAVE  observed  among  all  nations,  that  the 
1  women  ornament  themselves  more  than  the 
men ;  that,  wherever  found,  they  are  the  same 
kind,  civil,  obliging,  humane,  tender  beings ; 
that  they  are  ever  inclined  to  be  gay  and  cheerful, 
timorous  and  modest.  They  do  not  hesitate,  like 
man,  to  perform  a  hospitable  or  generous  action  : 
not  haughty,  nor  arrogant,  nor  supercilious,  but 
full  of  courtesy  and  fond  of  society ;  industrious, 
economical,  ingenuous  ;  more  liable  in  general  to 
err  than  man,  but  in  general,  also,  more  virtuous, 
and  performing  more  good  actions  than  he.  I 
never  addressed  myself  in  the  language  of  decency 
and  friendship  to  a  woman,  whether  civilized  or 
savage,  without  receiving  a  decent  and  friendly 
answer.  With  man  it  has  often  been  otherwise. 
In  wandering  over  the  barren  plains  of  inhospita- 
ble Denmark,  through  honest  Sweden,  frozen  Lap- 
land, rude  and  churlish  Finland,  unprincipled 
Russia,  and  the  wide-spread  regions  of  the  wan- 
dering Tartar,  if  hungry,  dry,  cold,  wet,  or  sick, 
woman  has  ever  been  friendly  to  me,  and  uni- 
formly so  ;  and  to  add  to  this  virtue,  so  worthy 
of  the  appellation  of  benevolence,  these  actions 
have  been  performed  in  so  free  and  so  kind  a  man- 
ner, that,  if  I  was  dry,  I  drank  the  sweei  draught, 
and,  if  hungry,  ate  the  coarse  morsel,  with  a 
double  relish."— John  Ledvard. 


362 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND    THE 


AN  AMERICAN  IN   PARIS  DURING  THE 
REVOLUTION. 

7TTE  select  the  following  highly  interesting 
XXJ  account  of  an  American  gentleman's  ex- 
periences with  Robespierre,  and  life  in  Paris 
during  the  revolution,  from  the  writings  of 
Thomas  Cooper : 

When  I  was  going  over  to  Paris  with  Watt  dur- 
ing the  French  Revolution,  being  both  members 


took  me  to  Robespierre's.  We  passed  through  a 
carpenter's  shop,  and  went  up  a  ladder  to  the 
place  occupied  by  Robespierre.  He  was  dressed 
up.  A  complete  petit  maitre,  a  dandy.  A  little 
pale  man,  with  dark  hair.  He  received  me  well. 
I  told  him  that  I  had  written  an  address  to  deliver 
to  the  club,  and  requested  him  to  deliver  it  for  me, 
as  I  spoke  French  badly.  He  said  he  would.  I 
wrote  the  address,   and  Watt  translated  it  into 


STREETS   OF    PARIS    DURING   THE   REVOLUTION. 


of  the  club  at  Manchester,  we  had  letters  from 
the  club  to  Robespierre,  Petion,  and  other  mem- 
bers of  the  Jacobin  clubs  of  Paris.  I  called  on 
Petion  and  told  him  my  business,  and  that  I 
wished  to  be  introduced  to  Robespierre.  Petion 
was  a  clever  fellow,  and  more  like  an  Englishman 
than  any  Frenchman  I  have  ever  seen  —  good, 
candid  fellow,   on  whom  you  might  rely.      He 


French.  We  went  to  the  club  (he  mentioned 
which,  but  it  has  escaped  me),  and  he  with  others 
sat  under  the  canopy  (I  think  he  said)  where  the 
president  sits.  He  mentioned  who  presided. 
After  a  while  a  loud  noise  was  made,  and  a  call 
for  Citizen  Cooper  (Citoycn  Gouappe)  and  Watt, 
and  for  the  address  of  Citoyen  Gouappe  which  had 
been  formally  announced.      I  requested  Robes- 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


363 


pierre  to  take  it  and  read  it  as  he  had  promised. 
He  declined,  and  I  insisted,  until  he  refused  posi- 
tively, when  the  noise  increasing,  I  told  him, 
' '  O'toyen  Robespierre,  votes  ctes  un  coqirin  ! ' '  and 
with  that  I  mounted  and  delivered  my  address, 
which  was  well  received,  and  with  considerable 
noise.  After  that  (which  was  before  Robespierre 
commenced  his  reign  of  blood),  I  kept  company 
principally  with  the  Brissotians.  The  day  after 
the  above  affair  took  place  at  the  club,  several 
persons  told  me  to  take  care  of  myself,  for  that 
Robespierre  and  his  friends  had  their  designs  upon 
us.  Spies  were  set  upon  us.  We  were  informed 
of  it,  and  their  names  furnished,  which  he  men- 


wouldn't  agree  to  join  us.  They  would  not  risk 
it.  At  last  we  were  denounced  by  Robespierre, 
and  Watt  went  off  to  Germany,  and  I  returned  to 
England.  Now  those  four  months  that  I  spent  in 
Paris  were  the  most  happy  and  pleasant  of  my  life. 
I  laughed  more  than  I  ever  did  before  or  have 
since.     I  lived  four  years. 

It  is  curious,  but  I  believe  the  fact  from  what  I 
saw,  that  during  the  most  dreadful  times  of  that 
revolution,  during  its  most  bloody  period,  the 
people  of  Paris  enjoyed  more  aggregate  happiness 
than  at  any  other  period  of  their  lives.  Every 
moment  was  a  century.  When  there  every  energy 
of  my  mind  was  called  out,   every  moment  en- 


THE   CHARGE. 


tioned.  We  invited  them  regularly  to  dinner, 
and  the  poor  devils  not  being  used  to  drinking 
wine,  we  always  got  them  drunk  after  dinner. 
One  evening,  at  the  house  of  a  person  whose  name 
I  did  not  catch,  where  many  Brissotians  were 
present,  Watt  and  I  proposed  that  if  they  would 
gather  as  many  friends  as  they  could  and  go  with 
us,  to  support  us  at  the  club,  I  would  insult 
Robespierre  before  the  whole  assembly,  and  com- 
pel him  to  challenge  us  to  fight.  We  should  have 
broken  him  up  that  night.  We  did  not  care  for 
responsibility  there,  it  would  have  been  all  amuse- 
ment. Such  was  our  excitement,  I  would  as  leave 
have  fought  him  as  not.  I  would  have  liked  it. 
We  might  have  got  him  off,  but  these  fellows 


gaged.      Some  important  event   unceasingly  oc- 
curred, and  incessantly  occupied  the  mind. 


BATTLE  OF  NIAGARA. 

The  battle  took  place  on  the  margin  of  the 
Niagara  river,  an  extensive  plain,  which  had  once 
been  covered  with  fine  farms ;  but  now,  forsaken 
by  the  inhabitants,  and  desolated  by  war,  it  ex- 
hibited only  a  barren  waste.  The  river  at  that 
place  begins  to  acquire  some  of  that  terrific  velo- 
city with  which  it  rushes  over  the  awful  precipice 
three  miles  below,  creating  one  of  the  grandest 
natural  curiosities  in  existence ;  the  noise  of  the 
cataract  is  heard,  and  the  column  of  foam  dis- 
tinctly  seen,    from    the    battle-ground.     On  the 


3<M 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


other  side,  the  field  is  bounded  by  a  thick  forest, 
but  the  plain  itself  presents  a  level  smooth  surface, 
unbroken  by  ravines,  and  without  a  tree  or  bush 
to  intercept  the  view,  or  an  obstacle  to  impede  the 
movements  of  the  hostile  bodies,  or  to  afford  to 
either  party  an  advantage.  From  this  plain  the 
American  camp  was  separated  by  a  small  creek. 
In  the  full  glare  of  the  summer  sun  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  5th  of  July,  the  British  troops  were 
seen  advancing  to  our  camp,  across  the  destined 
field  of  strife;  their  waving  plumes,  their  scarlet 
uniforms,  and  gilded  ornaments  exhibited  a  gay 
and  gorgeous  appearance.  Their  martial  music, 
their  firm  and  rapid  step,  indicated  elastic  hopes 
and  high  courage.  The  Americans,  inferior  in 
number,  were  easily  put  in  motion  to  meet  the 
advancing  foe  ;  they  crossed  a  small  rude  bridge, 
the  only  outlet  from  the  camp,  under  a  heavy  fire 
of  the  enemy's  artillery,  and  moved  steadily  to  the 
spot  selected  for  the  engagement.  The  scene  at 
this  moment  was  beautiful  and  imposing.  The 
British  line,  glowing  with  crimson  hues,  was 
stretched  across  the  plain,  flanked  by  pieces  of 
brass  ordnance,  whose  rapid  discharge  spread  death 
over  the  field,  and  filled  the  air  with  thunder; 
while  the  clouds  of  smoke  enveloped  each  ex- 
tremity of  the  line,  leaving  the  centre  only  exposed 
to  the  eye,  and,  extending  on  to  the  river  on  the  one 
hand,  and  the  forest  on  the  other,  filled  the  whole 
back-ground  of  the  landscape.  The  Americans 
were  advancing  in  columns.  The}'  were  new 
recruits,  now  led  for  the  first  time  into  action,  and 
except  a  few  officers,  none  of  that  heroic  band  had 
ever  before  seen  the  banner  of  a  foe.  But  they 
moved  steadily  to  their  ground,  unbroken  by  the 
galling  fire  ;  and  platoon  after  platoon  wheeled 
into  line  with  the  same  graceful  accuracy  of  move- 
ment which  marks  the  evolution  of  the  holiday 
parade,  until  the  whole  column  wTas  deployed  into 
one  extended  front;  the  officers  carefully  dressed 
the  line  with  technical  skill,  and  the  whole 
brigade  evinced,  by  its  deep  silence,  and  the  faith- 
ful precision  of  its  movements,  the  subordination 
of  strict  discipline,  and  the  stead}-  firmness  of 
determined  courage.  Xow  the  musketry  of  the 
enemy  began  to  rattle,  pouring  bullets  as  thick  as 
hail  upon  our  ranks.  Still  not  a  trigger  was 
drawn,  not  a  voice  was  heard  on  our  side,  save 
the  quick  peremptory  tones  of  command.  General 
Scott  rode  along  the  line  cheering  and  restraining 
lis  troops,  then  passed  from  flank  to  flank  to  see 


if  all  was  as  he  wished:  he  wheeled  his  steed  into 
the  rear  of  the  troops,  and  gave  the  command  to 
"Fire."  A  voice  was  immediately  heard  in  the 
British  ranks — supposed  to  be  that  of  their  com- 
mander— exclaiming,  "  Charge  the  Yankees  ! 
charge  the  Buffalo  militia!  charge!  charge!" 
The  American  general  ordered  his  men  to  ' '  Sup- 
port arms." 

The  British  rushed  forward  with  bayonets 
charged,  but  they  were  struck  with  amazement 
when  they  beheld  those  whom  their  commander 
tauntingly  called  "militia"  standing  motionless 
as  statues  ;  their  muskets  erect,  their  arms  folded 
across  their  breasts,  gazing  calmly  at  their  hostile 
ranks  advancing  furiously  with  levelled  bayonets. 
It  was  a  refinement  of  discipline  rarely  exhibited, 
and  here  altogether  unexpected.  The  Americans 
stood  until  the  enemy  approached  within  a  few 
paces ;  until  the  foemen  could  see  the  fire  flashing 
from  each  other's  eyes,  and  each  could  read  the 
expression  of  his  adversary's  face  ;  then  deliber- 
ately as  the  word  was  given,  the  Americans 
levelled  their  pieces  and  fired — and  the  whole  of 
the  enemy's  line  seemed  annihilated  ! — Many 
were  killed,  many  wounded,  and  some,  rushing 
forward  with  powerful  momentum,  fell  over  their 
prostrate  companions,  or  were  thrown  down  by  the 
weight  of  succeeding  combatants.  In  one  instance 
the  ground  occupied  by  that  gallant  line  wTas 
covered  by  flying  Britons  ;  in  another,  a  second 
line  had  advanced  to  sustain  the  contest ;  while 
the  broken  fragments  of  the  first  were  rallied 
behind  it.  The  "  Buffalo  militia"  were  now  the 
assailants,  advancing  with  charged  bayonets. 
Then  it  was  that  the  young  American  chiefs  who 
led  that  gallant  host  displayed  the  skill  of  veterans, 
and  the  names  of  Scott,  Jessup,  Leavenworth, 
McNeil,  and  Hinman,  were  given  to  their  country 
to  adorn  the  proudest  page  of  its  history.  Five- 
and  thirty  minutes  decided  the  contest,  and  the 
retiring  foe  was  pursued  and  driven  to  his  fortress. 
None  who  saw  will  forget  the  terrific  beauty  of 
this  scene;  the  noble  appearance  of  the  troops — 
the  dreadful  precision  of  ever}-  movement — the 
awful  fun-  of  the  battle — its  fatal  severity — its 
brief  continuance — its  triumphant  close. 

As  the  victors  returned  from  the  pursuit  of  the 
retiring  enemy,  a  scene  of  intense  interest  was 
presented.  They  traversed  the  field  which  a  few 
minutes  before  had  sparkled  with  the  proud  equip- 
age of  war.     There  had  been  gallant  men,  and 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


:m 


gay  uniforms,  and  waving  banners  ;  and  there  had 
been  drums  and  trumpets,  and  the  wild  notes  of 
the  bugle,  stirring  the  soul  to  action.  There  had 
been  nodding  plumes,  and  beating  hearts,  and 
eyes  that  gleamed  with  ambition. 

There  too  had  been  tempestuous  chiefs,  emulous 
of  fame,  dashing  their  fiery  steeds  along  the  hos- 
tile ranks ;  and  there  had  been  all  the  spirit-stir- 
ring sighs  and  sounds  that 
fill  the  eye  and  the  ear  and 
the  heart  of  the  young  war- 
rior, giving  more  than  the 
poet's  fire  to  the  entranced 
imagination.  What  a  change 
had  a  few  brief  minutes  pro- 
duced !  Now  the  field  was 
strewed  with  ghastly  and 
disfigured  forms,  with  the 
wounded,  with  the  muti- 
lated and  the  dying.  The 
ear  was  filled  with  strange 
and  melancholy  and  terrific 
sounds  ;  the  shouts  of  victory 
had  given  place  to  groans 
of  anguish,  the  complaints  of 
the  vanquished,  the  prayers 
or  the  imprecations  of  the 
dying. 


the  fire,  as  the  men  were  very  anxious  to  engage 
the  enemy. 

"Mr.  Morris,"  was  the  commodore's  reply, 
"  are  you  read}-  for  action  on  the  gun-deck  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  keep  so — but  don't  let  a  gun  be  fired 
till  I  give  the  word.  " 

In  a  few  moments  Mr.  Morris  again  appeared, 


BATTLE     BETWEEN     THE 
CONSTITUTION  AND     , 
THE  GUERRIERE. 

CHE  Guerriere  was  lying 
to.  The  Constitution 
was  leisurely  bearing  down 
upon  the  enemy  under  her 
topsails — every  man  was  at 
his  respective  station,  and  all 
onboard  were  eager  for  the 
contest, — when  the  Guerriere 
commenced  the  action  at  long 
shot.  Commodore  Hull  gave 
a  peremptory  order  to  his 
officers  not  to  apply  a  single 
match  until  he  gave  the  word.  In  a  few  min- 
utes a  forty-two  pounder  from  the  Guerriere  took 
effect,  and  killed  and  wounded  some  of  our  brave 
tars.  Lieutenant  Morris  immediately  left  his 
station  on  the  gun-deck  to  report  the  same  to  the 
commodore,   and  requested  permission  to  return 


AFTER   THE    BATTLE. 

and  stated  that  he  could  with  difficulty  restrain 
the  men  from  giving  the  enemy  a  broadside,  so 
anxious  were  they  to  commence  the  engagement. 
"Mr.  Morris,"  reiterated  the  commodore,  in- 
tently gazing  on  the  English  frigate,  ' '  are  you 
readv  for  action  on  the  cnm-deck  ?  " 


366 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


' '  Yes,  sir  ;  and  it  is  impossible  for  tne  any  longer 

to  restrain  the  men  from  firing  on  the  foe.     Their 

passions  are  wrought  up  to  the  highest  possible 

pitch  of  excitement.     Several  of  our  bravest  sea- 

,   men  are  already  killed  and  wounded  " — 

' '  Keep  cool,  Mr.  Morris — keep  cool.  See  all 
prepared,  and  do  not  suffer  a  gun  to  be  fired  till  I 
give  the  word. ' ' 

The  gallant  lieutenant  went  below.  In  a  few 
minutes,  the  vessels  having  neared  each  other  to 
within  pistol-shot  distance,  Morris  was  sent  for  to 
appear  on  the  quarter-deck. 

"Are  you  all  ready  for  action,  Mr.  Morris?" 
again  demanded  the  commodore. 

' '  We  are  all  ready,  sir — and  the  men  are  utter- 
ing horrid  imprecations  because  they  are  not  suf- 
fered to  return  the  fire  of  the  enemy.  ' ' 

"Fire  then,  in  God's  name!"  shouted  the 
commodore,  in  a  voice  of  thunder. 

It  is  added  that  he  wore  at  the  time  a  pair  of 
nankeen  tights ;  and  he  accompanied  this  soul- 
cheering  order  with  such  a  tremendous  stamp  on 
the  deck  with  his  right  foot  that  the  unfortunate 
pantaloons  were  split  open  from  the  knee  to  the  waist- 
band. 

The  conduct  of  Dacres,  before  and  during  the 
action,  was  such  as  might  have  been  expected 
from  a  brave  and  generous  enemy.  Mr.  Reed,  a 
young  man  belonging  to  Brewster,  Massachusetts, 
had  been  pressed  on  board  the  Guerriere  a  few 
weeks  previous  to  the  engagement.  Several  other 
American  seamen  were  also  on  board.  When  the 
Constitution  was  bearing  down  in  such  gallant 
style,  and  it  became  evident  that  a  severe  action 
with  an  American  frigate  was  inevitable,  young 
Reed  left  his  station  and  proceeded  to  the  quarter- 
deck, and  respectfully  but  firmly  represented  to 
Captain  Dacres  that  he  was  an  American  citizen, 
who  had  been  unj  ustly  detained  on  board  the  Eng- 
lish frigate  ;  that  he  had  hitherto  faithfully  per- 
formed the  duties  which  were  assigned  him  ;  and 
that  it  could  not  reasonably  be  expected  he  would 
fight  against  his  countrymen  ;  he  therefore  begged 
leave  to  decline  the  honor  of  participating  in  the 
engagement. 

The  English  captain  frankly  told  him  that  he 
appreciated  his  patriotic  feelings  ;  that  he  did  not 
wish  the  Americans  on  board  to  use  arms  against 
their  countrymen  ;  and  he  subsequently  ordered 
them  all  into  the  cockpit,  to  render  assistance  to 
the  surgeon,  if  it  should  be  necessary.     Reed  left 


the  spar-deck  after  the  Guerriere  had  commenced 
the  action.  Several  shots  were  known  to  have 
taken  effect,  but  che  Constitution  had  not  yet  fired 
a  gun — much  to  the  amusement  of  the  British 
tars,  who  predicted  that  the  eneiny  would  be  taken 
without  resistance,  with  the  exception  of  a  veteran 
man-of-war' s-mau,  who  had  been  in  the  battle  of 
the  Nile,  and  gruffly  observed,  with  a  significant 
shake  of  the  head,  "That  Yankee  knows  what 
he's  about." 

A  few  moments  passed  away,  and  the  Constitu- 
tion poured  in  her  tremendous  broadside — every 
gun  was  double-shotted  and  well  pointed,  and  the 
effect  which  it  had  on  the  enemy  can  hardly  be 
conceived.  Mistimed  jests  and  jeers  at  the  im- 
perturbable but  harmless  Yankees  gave  place  to 
the  groans  of  the  wounded  and  dying,  and  sixteen 
poor  mutilated  wretches  were  tumbled  down  into 
the  cockpit,  from  the  effects  of  the  first  broadside  ! 

Dacres  fought  as  long  as  a  spar  was  standir  g 
and  a  gun  could  be  brought  to  bear  upon  the 
enemy  ;  but  when  his  masts  were  completely 
swept  away,  his  officers  and  men  mostly  killed 
and  wounded,  encumbering  the  decks  ;  while  the 
scuppers  were  streaming  with  gore  ;  when  the 
Guerriere,  which  a  few  hours  before  was  justly 
considered  one  of  the  most  splendid  specimens  of 
naval  architecture  which  belonged  to  the  British 
navy,  lay  on  the  water  an  unsightly,  unmanage- 
able mass  ;  when  he  had  no  longer  the  stump  of  a 
mast  left  from  which  to  display  the  proud  flag  of 
his  country,  the  gallant  Briton  began  to  think  he 
had  got  into  an  ugly  scrape,  from  which  he  could 
not  possibly  extricate  himself.  He  could  no  longer 
oppose  even  a  feeble  resistance  to  his  more  fortu- 
nate foe.  ' 

Captain  Hull  sent  an  officer  to  take  possession 
of  the  Guerriere.  When  he  arrived  alongside,  he 
demanded  of  the  commander  of  the  English 
frigate  if  he  had  struck. 

Dacres  was  extremely  reluctant  to  make  this 
concession  in  plain  terms,  but  with  a  shrewdness 
which  would  have  done  honor  to  a  Yankee,  en- 
deavored to  evade  the  question. 

"I  do  not  know  that  it  would  be  prudent  to 
continue  the  engagement  any  longer,"  said  he. 

' '  Do  I  understand  you  to  say  that  you  have 
struck?"  inquired  the  American  lieutenant. 

"Not  precisely,"  returned  Dacres;  "but  I 
don't  know  that  it  will  be  worthwhile  to  fight 
an}-  longer." 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


367 


' '  If  you  think  it  advisable,  I  will  return 
aboard,"  replied  the  Yankee,  "and  we  will 
resume  the  engagement. ' ' 

' '  Why,  I  am  pretty  much  hors  de  combat  al- 
ready," said  Dacres  ;  "  I  have  hardly  men  enough 
left  to  work  a  gun,  and  my  ship  is  in  a  sinking 
condition." 

' '  I  wish  to  know,  sir, ' '  peremptorily  demanded 
the  American  ofneer,  ' '  whether  I  am  to  consider 
you  as  a  prisoner  of  war,  or  an  enemy.  I  have 
no  time  for  further  parley." 

' '  I  believe  there  is  no  alternative.  If  I  could 
fight  longer,  I  would  with  pleasure  ;  but  I — must 
— surrender — myself — a  prisoner  of  war ! ' ' 

And  so  the  famous  battle  closed. 


HOW  A  COUNTRY  GIRL  BECAME  THE  ANCES- 
TOR OF  TWO  OF  ENGLAND'S  QUEENS. 

DURING  the  troubles  in  the  reign  of  Charles 
I.,  a  country  girl  came  to  London  in  search 
of  a  place  as  a  servant-maid  ;  but  not  succeeding, 
she  hired  herself  to  carry  out  beer  from  a  brew- 
house,  and  was  one  of  those  called  tub-women. 
The  brewer,  observing  a  good-looking  girl  in  this 
low  occupation,  took  her  into  his  family  as  a 
servant,  and  after  a  short  time  married  her ;  but 
he  died  while  she  was  yet  a  young  woman,  and 
left  her  the  bulk  of  his  fortune.  The  business  of 
the  brewery  was  dropped,  and  to  the  young 
woman  was  recommended  Mr.  Hyde,  as  a  skilful 
lawyer  to  arrange  her  husband's  affairs.  Hyde, 
who  was  afterwards  the  great  Earl  of  Clarendon, 
finding  the  widow's  fortune  very  considerable, 
married  her.  Of  this  marriage  there  was  no 
other  issue  than  a  daughter,  who  was  afterwards 
the  wife  of  James  II.,  and  mother  of  Mary  and 
Anne,  queens  of  England. 


PERSONAL  APPEARANCE  OF  DISTINGUISHED 
OFFICERS  OF  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION. 

THERE  are  few  that  hear  of  the  achievements 
of  distinguished  men  without  forming  some 
idea  of  their  persons  and  features,  and  it  is  always 
pleasing  to  know  whether  the  reality  answers  to 
the  idea. 

Washington  has  been  described  so  often  that 
his  whole  appearance  must  be  familiar  from  our 
infancy.  A  person  six  feet  two  inches  in  stature, 
expanded,  muscular,  of  elegant  proportions,  and 
unusually  graceful  in  all  his  movements  :  his  head 


moulded  somewhat  on  the  model  of  the  Grecian 
antique ;  features  sufficiently  prominent  for 
strength  or  comeliness — a  Roman  nose  and  large 
blue  eyes  ;  deeply  thoughtful,  rather  than  lively. 
With  these  attributes,  the  appearance  of  Wash- 
ington was  striking  and  august.  A  fine  com- 
plexion being  superadded,  he  was  accounted, 
when  young,  one  of  the  handsomest  of  men.  But 
his  majesty  consisted  in  the  expression  of  his 
countenance,  much  more  than  in  his  comely  fea- 
tures, his  lofty  person,  or  his  dignified  deport- 
ment. It  was  the  emanation  of  his  great  spirit 
through  the  tenement  it  occupied. 

Major-General  Greene,  in  person,  was 
rather  corpulent  and  above  the  common  size  ;  his 
complexion  was  fair  and  florid  ;  his  countenance 
serene  and  mild,  indicating  a  goodness  which 
seemed  to  shade  and  soften  the  fire  and  greatness 
of  its  expression.  His  health  was  delicate,  but 
preserved  by  temperance  and  regularity. 

General  Lafayette  was  one  of  the  finest- 
looking  men  in  the  army,  notwithstanding  his 
deep-red  hair,  which  then,  as  now,  was  rather  in 
disrepute.  His  forehead  was  fine,  though  reced- 
ing ;  his  eyes,  clear  and  hazel ;  his  mouth  and 
chin  delicately  formed,  and  exhibiting  beauty 
rather  than  strength.  The  expression  of  his 
countenance  was  strongly  indicative  of  the  gener- 
ous and  gallant  spirit  which  animated  him,  ming- 
ling with  something  of  the  pride  of  conscious 
manliness.  His  mien  was  noble,  his  manners 
frank  and  amiable,  and  his  movements  light  and 
graceful.  He  wore  his  hair  plain,  and  never 
complied  so  far  with  the  fashion  of  the  times  as 
to  powder. 

General  Wayne  was  about  the  middle  size, 
with  a  fine  ruddy  countenance,  commanding  port, 
with  an  eagle  eye.  His  looks  corresponded  well 
with  his  character  ;  indicating  a  soul  noble,  ardent 
and  daring.  At  this  time,  he  was  about  thirty- 
two  3'ears  of  age  ;  a  period  of  life  which,  perhaps, 
as  much  as  any  other,  blends  the  graces  of  youth 
with  the  majesty  of  manhood.  In  his  intercourse 
with  his  officers  and  men,  he  was  affable  and 
agreeable,  and  had  the  art  of  communicating  to 
their  bosoms  the  gallant  and  chivalrous  spirit 
which  glowed  in  his  own. 

General  Sullivan  was  a  man  of  short  stature, 
well  formed  and  active  ;  his  complexion  dark — 
his  nose  prominent — his  eyes  black  and  piercing, 
and  his  face  altogether  agreeable  and  well-formed. 


3G8 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


IyORD  Sterling  was  short  and  thick-set ;  some- 
what pursy  and  corpulent.  His  face  was  red,  and 
looked  as  though  colored  by  brandy  rather  than 
sunburnt,  and  his  appearance  in  no  manner  either 
military  or  commanding. 

Colonel  Morgan  was  stout  and  active,  six 
feet  in  height,  not  too  much  encumbered  with 
flesh,  and  exactly  fitted  for  the  toils  and  pomp  of 
war.  The  features  of  his  face  were  strong  and 
manly,  and  his  brow  thoughtful.  His  manners 
plain  and  decorous,  neither  insinuating  nor  repul- 
sive ;  his  conversation  grave,  sententious  and 
considerate,  unadorned  and  uncaptivating. 

Colonel  Hamilton  is  thus  described  by  Mr. 
Delaplaine  :  '  'Although  in  person  below  the  mid- 
dle stature,  and  somewhat  deficient  in  elegance  of 
figure,  Hamilton  possessed  a  very  striking  and 
manly  appearance.  By  the  most  superficial  obser- 
vers, he  never  could  be  regarded  as  a  common  ill- 
dividual.  His  head  was  large,  formed  on  the 
finest  model,  resembling  somewhat  the  Grecian 
antique.  His  forehead  was  spacious  and  elevated; 
his  nose  projecting,  but  inclined  to  the  aquiline  ; 
his  eyes  gray,  keen  at  all  times,  and  when  ani- 
mated by  debate,  intolerably  piercing,  and  his 
mouth  and  chin  well-proportioned  and  handsome. 
These  two  latter,  although  his  strongest,  were  his 
most  pleasing  features  ;  yet  the  form  of  his  mouth 
was  expressive  of  eloquence,  more  especially  of 
persuasion.  He  was  remarkable  for .  a  deep  de- 
pression between  his  nose  and  forehead,  and  a 
contraction  of  the  brows,  which  gave  to  the  up- 
per part  of  his  countenance  an  air  of  sternness. 
The  lower  part  was  an  emblem  of  mildness  and 
ingenuity. 

Major  L,EE,  one  of  the  most  vigilant  and  act- 
ive partisan  officers  in  the  American  army,  was 
short  in  stature,  and  of  light  make,  but  agile  and 
active.  His  face  was  small  and  freckled  ;  his 
looks  eager  and  sprightly.  He  was  then  quite 
young,  and  his  appearance  was  even  more  youth- 
ful than  his  years. 

Sir  William  Howe,  the  British  general,  was 
a  fine  figure,  full  six  feet  high,  and  admirably 
well-proportioned.  In  person,  he  a  good  deal  re- 
sembled Washington,  and  at  a  little  distance 
might  have  been  easily  taken  for  the  American 
general  ;  but  his  features,  though  good,  were 
more  pointed,  and  the  expression  of  his  counten- 
ance was  less  benignant.  His  manners  were  pol- 
ished, graceful,  and  dignified. 


Sir  Henry  Clinton  was  short  and  fat,  with 
a  full  face,  prominent  nose,  and  animated  intelli- 
gent countenance.  In  his  manners,  he  was  po- 
lite and  courtly,  but  more  formal  and  distant 
than  Howe,  and  in  his  intercourse  with  his  offi- 
cers was  rather  punctilious,  and  not  inclined  to 
intimacy. 


GENERAL     JACKSON'S      VICTORY     AT     NEW 
ORLEANS. 

IN  the  month  of  December,  1814,  fifteen  thou- 
sand British  troops,  under  Sir  Edward  Packen- 
ham,  were  landed  for  the  attack  of  New  Orleans. 
The  defence  of  this  place  was  intrusted  to  General 
Andrew  Jackson,  whose  force  was  about  six  thou- 
sand men,  chiefly  raw  militia.  Several  slight 
skirmishes  occurred  previous  to  the  arrival  of  the 
enemy  before  the  city  ;  during  this  time  General 
Jackson  was  employed  in  making  preparations  for 
his  defence.  His  front  was  a  straight  line  of  one 
thousand  yards,  defended  by  upwards  of  three  thou- 
sand infantry  and  artillerists.  The  ditch  contained 
five  feet  of  water,  and  his  front,  from  having  been 
flooded  by  opening  the  levees,  and  by  frequent 
rains,  was  rendered  slippery  and  muddy.  Eight 
distinct  batteries  were  judiciously  disposed,  mount- 
ing in  all  twelve  guns  of  different  calibres.  On 
the  opposite  side  of  the  river  was  a  strong  battery 
of  fifteen  guns. 

At  daylight  on  the  morning  of  the  Sth  of  Janu- 
ary, the  main  body  of  the  British,  under  their 
commander-in-chief,  General  Packenham,  were 
seen  advancing  from  their  encampment  to  storm 
the  American  lines.  On  the  preceding  evening 
they  had  erected  a  battery  within  eight  hundred 
yards,  which  now  opened  a  brisk  fire  to  protect 
their  advance.  The  British  came  on  in  two  col- 
umns, the  left  along  the  levee  on  the  bank  of  the 
river,  directed  against  the  American  right,  while 
their  right  advanced  to  the  swamp,  with  a  view 
to  turn  General  Jackson's  left.  The  country  being 
a  perfect  level,  and  the  view  unobstructed,  their 
march  was  observed  from  its  commencement. 
They  were  suffered  to  approach,  in  silence  and 
unmolested,  until  within  three  hundred  yards  of 
the  lines.  This  period  of  suspense  and  expecta- 
tion was  employed  by  General  Jackson  and  his 
officers  in  stationing  every  man  at  his  post,  and 
arranging  every  thing  for  the  decisive  event. 
When  the  British  columns  had  advanced  within 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


369 


three  hundred  yards  of  the  lines,  the  whole  artil- 
lery at  once  opened  upon  them  a  most  deadly  fire. 
Forty  pieces  of  cannon,  deeply  charged  with 
grape,  canister,  and  musket-balls,  mowed  them 
down  by  hundreds  ;  at  the  same  time  the  batteries 
on  the  west  bank  opened  their  fire,  while  the 
riflemen,  in  perfect  security  behind  their  works, 
as  the  British  advanced  took  deliberate  aim,  and 
nearly  every  shot  took  effect.  Through  this  de- 
structive fire,  the  British  left  column,  under  the 
immediate  orders  of  the  commander-in-chief, 
rushed  on  with  their  fascines  and  scaling  ladders, 
to  the  advance  bastion  on  the  American  right, 
and  succeeded  in  mounting  the  parapet ;  here, 
after  a  close  conflict  with  the  bayonet,  the)-  suc- 
ceeded in  obtaining  possession  of  the  bastion  ; 
when  the  battery  planted  in  the  rear  for  its  protec- 
tion opened  its  fire,  and  drove  the  British  from 
the  ground.  On  the  American  left,  the  British 
attempted  to  pass  the  swamp,  and  gain  the  rear, 
but  the  works  had  been  extended  as  far  into  the 
swamp  as  the  ground  would  permit.  Some  who 
attempted  it  sank  in  the  mire  and  disappeared  ; 
those  behind,  seeing  the  fate  of  their  companions, 
seasonably  retreated  and  gained  the  hard  ground. 
The  assault  continued  an  hour  and  a  quarter ; 
during  the  whole  time  the  British  were  exposed 
to  the  deliberate  and  destructive  fire  of  the  Ameri- 
can artillery  and  musketry,  which  lay  in  perfect 
security  behind  their  breastworks  of  cotton  bales, 
which  no  balls  could  penetrate. 

At  eight  o'clock,  the  British  columns  drew  off 
in  confusion,  and  retreated  behind  their  works. 
Flushed  with  success,  the  militia  were  eager  to 
pursue  the  British  troops  to  their  intrenchments, 
and  drive  them  immediately  from  the  island.  A 
less  prudent  and  accomplished  general  might  have 
been  induced  to  yield  to  the  indiscreet  ardor  of 
his  troops  ;  but  General  Jackson  understood  too 
well  the  nature  both  of  his  own  and  his  enemy's 
force,  to  hazard  such  an  attempt.  Defeat  must 
inevitably  have  attended  an  assault  made  by  raw 
militia,  upon  an  entrenched  camp  of  British  regu- 
lars. The  defence  of  New  Orleans  was  the  ob- 
ject ;  nothing  was  to  be  hazarded  which  would 
jeopardize  the  city.  The  British  were  suffered  to 
retire  behind  their  works  without  molestation. 
The  result  was  such  as  might  be  expected  from 
the  different  positions  of  the  two  armies.  General 
Packenham,  near  the  crest  of  the  glacis,  received 
a  ball  in  his  knee.  Still  continuing  to  lead  on  his 
24 


men,  another  shot  pierced  his  body,  and  he  was 
carried  off  the  field.  Nearly  at  this  time,  Major- 
General  Gibbs,  the  second  in  command,  within  a 
few  yards  of  the  lines,  received  a  mortal  wound, 
and  was  removed.  The  third  in  command,  Major- 
General  Keane,  at  the  head  of  his  troops  near  the 
glacis,  was  severely  wounded.  The  three  com- 
manding generals,  on  marshalling  their  troops  at 
five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  promised  them  a 
plentiful  dinner  in  New  Orleans,  and  gave  them 
booty  and  beauty  as  the  parole  and  countersign  of 
the  day.  Before  eight  o'clock,  the  three  generals 
were  carried  off  the  field,  two  in  the  agonies  of 
death,  and  the  third  entirely  disabled  ;  leaving 
upwards  of  two  thousand  of  their  men,  dead, 
dying,  and  wounded,  on  the  field  of  battle. 

On  the  9th,  General  Lambert  and  Admiral  Coch- 
rane, with  the  surviving  officers  of  the  army,  held 
a  council  of  war,  and  determined  to  abandon  the 
expedition.  To  withdraw  the  troops  in  the  face 
of  a  victorious  enemy,  would  have  been  difficult 
and  hazardous.  To  withdraw  in  safety,  every  ap- 
pearance of  a  renewal  of  the  assault  was  kept  up, 
till  the  night  of  the  18th,  when  the  whole  army 
moved  off  in  one  bod}-,  over  a  road  which  had 
been  previously  constructed  through  a  miry  slough, 
in  which  a  number  of  the  troops  perished  by  sink- 
ing into  the  mire.  On  the  27th,  the  whole  land 
and  naval  forces  which  remained  of  this  disastrous 
expeditio/i  found  themselves  on  board  of  their 
ships,  with  their  ranks  thinned,  their  chiefs  and 
many  of  their  companions  slain,  their  bodies  ema- 
ciated by  hunger,  fatigue  and  sickness. 


DEATH  OF  COUNT  DONOP. 

IHAYF  been  down  to  Redbank,  on  the  Jersey 
side  of  the  Delaware,  below  Philadelphia,  to 
look  at  the  remains  of  that  little  fortress,  within 
whose  rudely-constructed  walls  so  terrible  a  blow 
was  given  to  British  courage.  Only  a  few  remains 
of  that  memorable  fort  are  now  to  be  seen.  The 
breastworks  are  nearly  levelled  to  the  earth,  and 
over  some,  the  ploughshare  of  the  industrious 
farmer  has  already  passed.  Nothing  but  a  few 
mis-shapen  mounds  are  visible  to  point  out  to  the 
stranger  the  site  where  so  much  blood  was  spilt, 
where  so  many  gallant  spirits  breathed  their  last. 
The  neighboring  farmer,  however,  will  point  you 
to  the  battle-ground.  His  house  stood  within 
pistol-shot  of  the  fort,  and  during  the  attack  the 
balls  whistled  around  his  roof  in  shrill  and  fre- 


370 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


quent  showers.  He  will  tell  3'ou  all  that  can  now 
be  told  of  it.  He  saw  the  battle  from  his  farm- 
house ;  he  saw  the  foreign  foe  advance  ;  he  heard 
their  shout  as  they  entered  the  outer-wall,  and  in 
a  moment  after,  he  saw  them  hurrying  back,  bear- 
ing with  them  the  body  of  their  lamented  and  ill- 
fated  Donop. 

The  fort  at  Redbank  was  thrown  up  hastily  by 
a  handful  of  Americans.  The}-  constructed  two 
walls,  or  two  forts,  one  within  the  other  ;  the 
outer  one  of  which  was  not  completed  when  the 
enemy  attacked  it.  At  the  head  of  a  chosen  baud 
of  men,  Donop  entered  the  outer  wall,  and  think- 
ing the  fort  taken  by  surprise,  gave  a  shout  of 
exultation,  which  was  re-echoed  by  his  men. 
They  entered  with  shouldered  arms.  The  feeble 
garrison,  commanded  by  the  gallant  Greene,  opened 
at  once  a  brisk  and  murderous  fire.  I  knew  a 
Jerseyman  who  was  in  the  fortress.  He  told  me 
every  particular.  The  narrow  limits  in  which  the 
assailants  were  confined,  and  the  unlooked-for 
repulse,  threw  them  into  irremediable  confusion. 
They  fired  a  few  shots,  and  hastily  retired,  just  as 
the  Americans  had  fired  their  eighth  round  of 
ammunition — and  they  had  but  nine  rounds  to  a 
man.  As  the  enemy  turned  about,  a  volunteer  in 
the  fort,  whose  musket  had  snapped,  pulled  the 
trigger  a  second  time — the  last  shot  from  the  fort — 
and  the  gallant,  the  misguided,  the  accomplished 
Donop  fell,  among  a  breastwork  of  his  own  dying 
men ! 

The  enemy  retreated  to  Philadelphia  in  the 
greatest  confusion.  Terrible  slaughter  had  been 
made  in  their  ranks,  and  they  trembled  for  the 
whizzing  of  the  next  platoon  of  balls.  Four 
pieces  of  brass  cannon,  which  they  brought  to  the 
assault,  were  either  buried  in  the  earth  on  their 
way  home,  or  thrown  into  the  neighbouring  creek. 
Searches  have  been  made  for  them,  but  they  are 
lost  for  ever.  Donop  was  carried  to  the  nearest 
farm-house,  his  wounds  dressed,  and  consolation 
given  him.  It  was  then  that  the  gallant  Hessian 
first  saw  his  error.  He  was  a  mere  hireling  in 
the  enemy's  ranks.  He  had  no  enmity  to  Ameri- 
cans, for  he  was  of  another  country,  and  we  had 
never  injured  him.  Bitterly  did  he  regret,  in  the 
agonies  of  that  tremendous  and  humbling  moment, 
that  he  had  lent  his  aid  to  smother  the  bursting 
flame  of  freedom,  and  deeply  did  he  weep  over 
the  ignominy  of  his  end.  He  felt  there  was  none 
to  pity  him.     The  British  did  not  ;    for  they  paid 


his  king  for  his  services  ;  his  king  did  not,  for  his 
death  insured  to  him  a  stipulated  compensation  ; 
and  America  could  not,  for  he  was  a  chosen  enemy. 
Thus  did  the  dying  count  depict  his  situation,  and 
cried,  "I,  who  might  have  flourished  in  the  pal- 
aces of  kings,  am  here,  the  victim  of  a  mercenary 
bargain,  left  to  die  in  a  solitary  hut,  in  the  wilder- 
ness of  America  !  " 

A  solitary  mound,  with  a  bit  of  rough  stone  at 
the  head,  in  the  margin  of  a  wood,  is  all  that  now 
remains  to  point  the  stranger  to  the  grave  of 
Count  Donop.  His  name  has  been  rudely  carved 
upon  it  ;  but  the  wanton  sportsman  makes  the 
melancholy  memento  his  favorite  mark,  and  a 
few  summers  more  will  do  away  the  slightest  trace 
of  where  he  now  reposes.  Such,  alas  !  is  military 
glory  ;  such  is  the  reward  of  dauntless  bravery 
and  misguided  virtue  ! 

The  hickory  on  which  the  banner  of  our  country 
floated  on  that  memorable  day  is  still  rocked  by 
the  breeze  that  sweeps  across  our  happy  country. 
Dong  may  it  flourish  in  undying  prime  !  I  have 
cut  a  fragment  from  it,  and  it  now  stands  before 
me  in  the  fashion  of  an  inkstand,  from  which  the 
ink  is  drawn  that  wrote  these  transient  reminis- 
cences of  that  ever-memorable  scene. 


SOME  CURIOUS   ROYAL  PROCLAMATIONS. 

TO  a  certain  extent,  the  proclamations  of  every 
sovereign  characterize  his  reign,  and  open 
to  us  some  of  the  interior  operations  of  the 
cabinet.  The  despotic  will,  yet  vacillating  con- 
duct of  Henry  the  Eighth,  towards  the  close  of 
his  reign,  may  be  traced  in  a  proclamation  to 
abolish  the  translation  of  the  Scriptures,  and  even 
the  reading  of  Bibles  by  the  people  ;  commanding 
all  printers  of  English  books  and  pamphlets  to 
affix  their  names  to  them,  and  forbidding  the  sale 
of  an}'  English  books  printed  abroad.  When  the 
people  were  not  suffered  to  publish  their  opinions 
at  home,  all  the  opposition  flew  to  foreign  presses, 
and  their  writings  were  then  smuggled  into  the 
country  in  which  they  ought  to  have  been  printed. 
Hence  many  volumes  printed  in  a  foreign  type  at 
this  period  are  found  in  our  collections.  The 
king  shrunk  in  dismay  from  that  spirit  of  refor- 
mation which  had  only  been  a  party-business  with 
him,  and  making  himself  a  pope,  decided  that 
nothing  should  be  learnt  but  what  he  himself 
designed  to  teach  ! 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


371 


The  antipathies  and  jealousies  of  the  English 
people,  long  indulged  by  their  incivilities  to  all 
foreigners,  are  characterized  by  a  proclamation 
issued  by  Mary,  commanding  her  subjects  to  be- 
have themselves  peaceably  towards  the  strangers 
coming  with  King  Philip  ;  that  noblemen  and 
gentlemen  should  warn  their  servants  to  refrain 
from  ' '  strife  and  contention,  either  by  outward 
deeds,  taunting  words,  unseemly  countenance,  by 
mimicking  them,  etc."  The  punishment  was  not 
only  ' '  her  grace's  displeasure,  but  to  be  committed 
to  prison  without  bail  or  mainprise." 

During  the  reign  of  Edward  the  Sixth,  a  pro- 
clamation was  issued  in  which  were  severely  de- 
nounced ' '  those  who  despise  the  sacrament  by 
calling  it  idol,  or  such  other  vile  name."  An- 
other is  against  such  ' '  as  innovate  any  ceremony, 
and  who  are  described  as  ' '  certain  private 
preachers  and  other  laiemen  who  rashly  attempt 
of  their  own  and  singular  wit  and  mind,  not  only 
to  persuade  the  people  from  the  old  and  accus- 
tomed rites  and  ceremonies,  but  also  themselves 
bring  in  new  and  strange  orders  according  to  their 
phantasies.  The  which,  as  it  is  an  evident  token 
of  pride  and  arrogancy,  so  it  tendeth  both  to  con- 
fusion and  disorder."  Another  proclamation,  to 
press  ' '  a  godly  conformity  throughout  his  realm, ' ' 
where  we  learn  the  following  curious  fact,  of 
' '  divers  unlearned  and  indiscreet  priests  of  a 
devilish  mind  and  intent,  teaching  that  a  man 
may  forsake  his  wife  and  marry  another,  his  first 
wife  yet  living  ;  likewise  that  the  wife  may  do 
the  same  to  the  husband.  Others  that  a  man  may 
have  two  wives  or  more  at  once,  for  that  these 
things  are  not  prohibited  by  God's  law,  but  by 
the  Bishop  of  Rome's  law  ;  so  that  by  such  evil 
and  phantastical  opinions  some  have  not  been 
afraid  indeed  to  marry  and  keep  two  wives." 
Here,  as  in  the  bud,  we  may  unfold  those  subse- 
quent scenes  of  our  story,  which  spread  out  in  the 
following  century  ;  the  branching  out  of  the  non- 
conformists into  their  various  sects  ;  and  the  inde- 
cent haste  of  our  reformed  priesthood,  who,  in 
their  zeal  to  cast  off  the  yoke  of  Rome,  despe- 
rately submitted  to  the  liberty  of  having  "two 
wives  or  more!"  There  is  also  a  proclamation 
of  the  same  reign,  commanding  the  people  to 
abstain  from  flesh  on  Fridays  and  Saturdays  ;  on 
the  principle,  not  only  that  "  men  should  abstain 
on  those  days,  and  forbear  their  pleasures  and  the 
meats  wherein   they  have  more  delight,   to  the 


intent  to  subdue  their  bodies  to  the  soul  and  spirit, 
but  also  for  worldly  policy.  To  use  fish  for  the 
benefit  of  the  commonwealth,  and  profit  of  many 
who  be  fishers  and  men  using  that  trade,  unto  the 
which  this  realm,  in  ever}-  part  environed  with 
the  seas,  and  so  plentiful  of  fresh  waters,  be  in- 
creased the  nourishment  of  the  land  by  saving 
flesh."  It  did  not  seem  to  occur  to  the  king  in 
council  that  the  butchers  might  have  had  cause 
to  petition  against  this  monopoly  of  two  days  in 
the  week  granted  to  the  fishmongers  ;  and  much 
less,  that  it  was  better  to  let  the  people  eat  flesh 
or  fish  as  suited  their  convenience.  In  respect  to 
the  religious  rite  itself,  it  was  evidently  not  con- 
sidered as  an  essential  point  of  faith,  since  the 
king  enforces  it  on  the  principle  "  for  the  profit 
and  commodity  of  his  realm." 

A  curious  proclamation  against  the  Iconoclasts 
was  issued  during  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  which 
throws  a  great  deal  of  light  upon  the  state  of  re- 
ligious society  at  that  time.  This  proclamation, 
as  well  as  all  others  issued  by  Elizabeth,  was 
signed  by  her  own  hand,  affording  an  instance  of 
the  remarkable  industry  and  close  attention  to 
public  affairs  manifested  on  all  occasions  by  this 
great  queen.  She  informs  us  in  this  proclama- 
tion that  "several  persons,  ignorant,  malicious, 
or  covetous,  of  late  years,  have  spoiled  and  broken 
ancient  monuments,  erected  only  to  show  a  memory 
to  posterity,  and  not  to  nourish  any  kind  of  super- 
stition." The  queen  laments,  that  what  is  broken 
and  spoiled  would  be  now  hard  to  recover,  but 
advises  her  good  people  to  repair  them  ;  and  com- 
mands them  in  future  to  desist  from  committing 
such  injuries  ! 

These  image-breakers,  so  famous  in  English 
history,  first  appeared  under  Henry  the  Eighth, 
and  continued  their  impractical  zeal,  in  spite  of 
proclamations  and  remonstrances,  till  the}-  had 
accomplished  their  work.  In  1641,  an  order  was 
published  by  the  commons,  that  they  should 
' '  take  away  all  scandalous  pictures  out  of 
churches  :"  but  more  was  intended  than  was  ex- 
pressed ;  and  we  are  told  that  the  people  did  not 
at  first  carry  their  barbarous  practice  against  all 
Art,  to  the  lengths  which  they  afterwards  did, 
till  they  were  instructed  by  private  information  ! 

James  the  First  was  prolific  with  his  proclama- 
tions. He  was  fond  of  giving  gentle  advice  to 
the  people,  and  as  the  daily  newspaper  was  not 
then,  as  now,  the  vehicle  of  public  information. 


he  was  obliged  to  resort 
to  the  more  kingly 
method  of  expressing 
his  thoughts  and  impart- 
ing advice  in  the  form  of 
proclamations,  man}-  of 
which  were  evidently 
written  by  his  own  hand. 
In  several  of  these  public 
documents  he  judi- 
ciously warns  the  people 
against  "speaking  too 
freely  of  matters  above 
their  reach,"  advice 
which  could  he  well  ap- 
plied in  man}-  instances 
even  in  these  modern 
times.  As  a  sample  of 
his  prolix  and  fatherly 
Style  of  addressing  his 
subjects,  we  quote  the 
following  : 

"Although  the  com- 
mixture of  nations,  con- 
fluence of  ambassadors, 
and  the  relation  which 
the  affairs  of  our  king- 
doms have  had  towards 
the  business  and  inter- 
ests of  foreign  states, 
have  caused,  during  our 
regiment  (government,) 
a  greater  openness  and 
liberty  of  discourse,  even 
concerning  matters  of 
state  (which  are  no 
themes  or  subjects  fit  for 
vulgar  persons  or  com- 
mon meetings)  than  hath 
been  in  former  times  used 
or  permitted;  and  al- 
though in  our  own  na- 
ture and  judgment  we 
do  well  allow  of  conve- 
nient freedom  of  speech, 
esteeming  any  over-cu- 
rious or  restrained  hands 
carried  in  that  kind 
rather  as  a  weakness,  or 
else  over-much  severity 
of  government  than 
otherwise;    yet  for   as 


(372) 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


Oli 


much  as  it  is  come  to  our  ears,  by  common  report, 
that  there  is  at  this  time  a  more  licentious  passage 
of  lavish  discourse  and  bold  censure  in  matters  of 
state  than  is  fit  to  be  suffered  :  We  give  this  warn- 
ing, &c.,  to  take  heed  how  they  intermeddle  by 
pen  or  speech  with  causes  of  state  and  secrets  of 
empire,  either  at  home  or  abroad,  but  contain 
themselves  within  that  modest  and  reverent  regard 
of  matters  above  their  reach  and 
calling  ;  nor  to  give  any  manner 
of  applause  to  such  discourse, 
without  acquainting  one  of  our 
privy  council  within  the  space  of 
twenty- four  hours. ' ' 

He  also  seemed  to  have  a  very 
good  understanding  of  a  certain 
class  of  sycophants  whom  he  very 
accurately  describes  in  the  follow- 
ing sentence  of  the  same  procla- 
mation : 

' '  Neither  let  any  man  mistake 
us  so  much  as  to  think  that  by 
giving  fair  and  specious  attri- 
butes to  our  person,  they  cover 
the  scandals  which  the}'  otherwise 
lay  upon  our  government,  but 
conceive  that  we  make  no  other 
construction  of  them  but  as  fine 
and  artificial  glosses,  the  better 
to  give  passage  to  the  rest  of 
their  imputations  and  scandals. ' ' 

This  proclamation  was  issued 
in  the  eighteenth  year  of  his 
reign  ;  again  in  the  nineteenth  ; 
and  he  might  have  arranged  to 
have  it  continuously  issued  every 
year,  for  all  time,  with  satisfac- 
tory results. 

There  were  some  curious  pro- 
clamations issued  during  the 
reign  of  Charles  the  First,  which 
reveal  the  character  of  the  king 
and  the  customs  of  the  times  bet- 
ter than  any  history  could.  There  is  one 
for  the  regulation  of  the  cure  of  the  "  king's 
evil,"  or  scrofula,  by  which  it  appears  that 
his  "majesty  hath  good  success  therein;"  but 
though  ready  and  willing  as  any  king  could 
be  to  lay  his  hand  on  the  afflicted  in  order  that 
they  might  be  made  whole,  yet  he  had  regard  for 
his  own  comfort  in  the  matter,  and  commanded 


to  change  the  seasons  for  his  "  sacred  touch," 
"  from  Easter  and  Whitsuntide  to  Easter  and 
Michaelmas,  as  times  more  convenient  for  the 
temperature  of  the  season,"  etc.  There  was  an- 
other curious  proclamation  to  erect  an  office  for 
the  ' '  suppression  of  cursing  and  swearing, ' ' 
which  was  doubtless  a  measure  greatly  needed  at 
that  particular  time. 


BACCHANALIAN   RKVEl^S. 

As  every  one  knows  who  has  read  history, 
Charles  the  Second  was  what  we  now  sometimes 
call  a  "wild  and  giddy  youth  ;"  he  was,  in  fact, 
a  very  persistent  sower  of  "wild  oats;"  but  in 
order  to  retain  the  good  graces  of  his  people,  who 
were  sadly  impressed  with  the  solemn  Puritanical 
influences  of  the  times,  he  was  under  the  neces- 
sity of  issuing  frequent  proclamations  condemn- 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


ing  the  very  excesses  that  he  was  specially  ad- 
dicted to.  It  may  be  reasonably  inferred  that  his 
proclamation    against  •' '  vicious,   debauched,    and 


LONDON   AND   A    PUBLIC    EXECUTION    DURING    THE    REIGN   OF    CHARLES    II, 

was  sent  forth  some  morning      conscience  would    not ;    and 


profane   persons 

after  he  and  his  boon  companions  had  employed 


themselves  in  "  painting  the  town  red,"  in  their 
own  peculiar  and  special  manner.  Charles  was 
doubtless  suffering  from  a  severe  headache  when 

he     wrote    his 
proclamation  : 

"A  sort  of 
men,"  he  re- 
morsefully writes 
' '  of  w  h  o  m  we 
have  heard  much 
and  are  suffi- 
ciently ashamed ; 
who  spend  their 
time  in  taverns, 
tipling-  houses 
and  debauches ; 
giving  no  other 
evidence  of  their 
affection  to  us 
but  in  drinking 
our  health,  and 
inveighing 
against  all  others 
who  are  not  of 
their  own  disso- 
lute temper ;  and 
who,  in  truth, 
have  more  dis- 
credited our 
cause,  by  the  li- 
cence of  their 
manners  and 
lives,  than  they 
could  ever  ad- 
vance it  by  their 
affection  or  cour- 
age. We  hope 
all  persons  of 
honour,  or  in 
place  and  author- 
it}-,  will  so  far 
assist  us  in  dis- 
countenancing 
such  men,  that 
their  discretion 
and  shame  will 
persuade  them  to 
reform  what  their 
that    the    displea- 


sure 


of    a;ood    men    towards  them 


supply 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


375 


■what  the  laws  have  not,  and,  it  may  be,  cannot 
well  provide  against ;  there  being  by  the  licence 
and  corruption  of  the  times,  and  the  depraved 
nature  of  man,  many  enormities,  scandals,  and 
impieties  in  practice  and  manners,  which  laws 
cannot  well  describe,  and  consequently  not  enough 
provide  against,  which  ma}-,  by  the  ex- 
ample and  severity  of  virtuous  men, 
be  easily  discountenanced,  and  by  de- 
grees suppressed." 

How  many  young  men  there  are  in 
our  own  times,  sad  though  it  be,  who, 
after  a  night's  debauch,  and  while  nur- 
sing their  aching  temples,  would  con- 
sider it  a  joyful  relief  to  their  pent-up 
feelings  to  be  able  to  express  their  sen- 
timents in  the  earnest  language  of  the 
"most  Christian"  King  Charles  ! 

Charles  also  issued  proclamations 
' '  to  repress  the  excess  of  gilding  of 
coaches  and  chariots,"  to  restrain  the 
waste  of  gold,  which,  as  he  supposed, 
by  the  excessive  use  of  gilding,  had 
grown  scarce.  Against  ' '  the  exporta- 
tion and  the  buying  and  selling  of  gold 
and  silver  at  higher  rates  than  in  our 
mint."  Against  the  excess  of  building 
in  and  about  London  and  Westminster 
in  1 66 1  :  ''The  inconveniences  daily 
growing  by  increase  of  new  buildings 
are,  that  the  people  increasing  in  such 
great  numbers,  are  not  well  to  be  gov- 
erned by  the  wonted  officers  ;  the  prices 
of  victuals  are  enhanced  ;  the  health  of 
the  subject  inhabiting  the  cities  much 
endangered,  and  many  good  towns  and 
boroughs  unpeopled,  and  in  their  trades 
much  decayed — frequent  fires  occasioned 
by  timber-buildings."  He  orders  to 
build  with  brick  and  stone,  which 
would  beautify,  and  make  an  uniformity 
in    the   buildings ;   and   which    are    not  ' 

only  more  durable  and  safe  against  fire,  but  by 
experience  are  found  to  be  of  little  more  if  not  less 
charge  than  the  building  with  limber."  We  must 
infer  that  by  the  general  use  of  timber,  it  had 
considerably  risen  in  price,  while  brick  and  stone, 
not  then  being  generally  used,  became  as  cheap 
as  wood  I 

A   most   excellent    idea    do    these  old  kingly 


proclamations    afford    us   of    what    was     really 
going  on  in  the  world  in  those  ancient  times  ! 


$ 


HISTORY  OF  THE  ICONOCLASTS. 

OME  reference  having  been  made  in  the  pre- 
vious article   to   the    destruction    of  pictures, 


(EEK    PAINTING    REPRESENTING    A    HOME   SCENE. 

etc.,  by  the  "  picture  destroyers,"  in  the  reign  of 
Queen  Elizabeth,  it  will  be  interesting  to  read  a 
history  of  this  remarkable  feature  of  religious 
frenzy.  Opposition,  to  the  veneration  of  images 
was  first  manifested  in  the  eighth  and  ninth  cen- 
turies ;  the  use  of  images,  however,  which  led  to 
the  Iconoclastic  troubles,  dates  from  the  very  com- 
mencement of  the  spread  of  Christianity  among 


376 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


heathen  nations,     it  is  a  matter  of  dispute  when 
images  were  first   introduced  as  symbols  in  the 


KNIGHTS   OF   THE   GOLDEN    FLEECE   ATTACKING   THE   RIOTERS. 


into  the  temple  at  the  end  of  the  third  century, 
and   that  their  public  use  became  general  toward 

the  close  of  the 


fourth.  The  vis- 
ible representa- 
tion of  the  cross 
found  its  way 
earlier  both  into 
ecclesiastical  and 
domestic  life. 

The  Greeks 
and  Romans  fa- 
vored the  fine 
arts,  but  there 
always  existed 
among  Christ- 
ians an  aversion 
toward  every- 
thing which  had 
any  resemblance 
to  the  old  pagan 
union  of  art  and 
religion.  They 
were  opposed  to 
representing  God 
and  the  angels  in 
pictures  and  by 
statues.  The 
first  note  of  icon- 
oclastic warfare 
came  from  Mar- 
seilles,where  the 
bishop,  Serenus, 
caused  all  im- 
ages to  be  demol- 
ished and  cast 
out  of  the 
churches.  For 
this  he  was  twice 
censured  by 
Pope  Gregory 
the  Great,  who, 
while  blaming 
the  superstitious 
use  of  images, 
advised  their  em- 
ployment as  a 
mean  s  of  instruc- 
tion for  the  un- 


public  worship  of  the  Christians,  but  the  prevail- 
ing opinion  is  that  they  passed  from  the  family 


lettered,    who    could    not    read    the   Scriptures. 
Soon  after  the     Emperor  Constantine  embraced 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


377 


the  Christian  belief,  he  began  to  embellish  the 
public  monuments  and  churches  with  representa- 
tions of  religious  objects  taken  from  the  Old  and 
New  Testaments.  Very  soon  this  custom  became 
interwoven  with  the  whole  domestic  and  public 
life  of  the  Greek  and  Asiatic  Christians.  Books 
and  furniture,  as  well  as  churches,  vestibules, 
private  houses  and  public  edifices,  household 
utensils  and  wearing  apparel,  were  profusely  orna- 
mented with  images  of  Christ,  the  martyrs,  and 
Biblical  personages.  Reports  of  miracles  said  to 
have  been  wrought 
by  some  of  these 
images  attracted 
crowds  of  pilgrims. 
In  the  course  of 
the  sixth  century 
it  became  a  custom 
in  the  Greek 
Church  to  make 
prostrations  before 
images  as  a  token 
of  reverence  to  the 
persons  whom  they 
represented.  In  the 
folio  wing  c  e  n  t  u  r  y 
the  Mohammedans 
wherever  they  pre- 
vailed, forbade  the 
worship  of  images. 
In  726  the  Byzan- 
tine emperor  Leo 
issued  a  proclama- 
tion directed  not 
against  the  images 
themselves,  but 
against  such  signs 


sacres.  After  the  death  of  Leo,  the  work  which 
he  had  commenced  was  taken  up  no  less  zealously 
by  his  son  Constantine,  who,  in  754,  assembled  a 
council  of  338  bishops,  who,  after  a  deliberation 
of  six  months,  pronounced  all  visible  symbols  of 
Christ,  excepc  in  the  eucharist,  to  be  either  blas- 
phemous or  heretical,  and  the  use  of  images  in 
the  churches  to  be  a  revival  of  paganism.  The 
emperor,  determined  to  carry  out  his  purpose, 
compelled  every  inhabitant  of  his  capital  to  take 
an  oath  never  again  to  worship  an  image.    In  787 


the  great  organ  AT  ANTWERP. — (Copy  of  Ancient  Engraving. ) 


of  an  idolatrous  homage  as  prostrations  and  kneel- 
ing down  before  them.  This  measure  met  with 
resistance  from  the  mass  of  the  people,  who  held 
these  images  in  great  reverence.  Besides  serious 
disturbances  in  many  places,  the  inhabitants  of 
the  Cyclades  rebelled  against  the  emperor  and 
equipped  a  fleet.  This  was  destroyed  by  means 
of  Greek  fire,  and  the  empe*  ~>r  issued  a  new  edict 
forbidding  the  use  of  images  for  religious  pur- 
poses. He  caused  the  statues  in  the  churches  to 
be  burned,  and  the  paintings  on  the  walls  to  be 
effaced,  which  resulted  in  fearful  riots  and  mas- 


the  second  oecumenical  council  of  Nice  decreed 
that  "bowing  to  an  image,  which  is  simply  the 
token  of  love  and  reverence,  ought  by  no  means 
to  be  confounded  with  the  adoration  which  is  due 
to  God  alone."  The  same  was  declared  true  also 
of  the  cross,  the  books  of  the  evangelists,  and 
other  sacred  objects. 

During  the  reign  of  Philip  II.  in  the  Nether- 
lands, the  Protestants  tumultuously  assembled 
and  destroyed  the  images  in  man}'  of  the  Catholic 
churches.  These  tumults  began  August  14th, 
1566,    at  St.    Omer,   in   Flanders,   where   several 


378       THE  WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND  THE  BEAUTIFUL. 


churches  were  desecrated,  the  images  overturned 
and  broken,  and  the  pictures  ruined.  They  next 
attacked  the  cathedral  at  Ypres,  which  they  also 
stripped.  The  excitement  rapidly  spread  all  over 
the  country,  and  many  of  the  cities  and  towns 
were  sacked.  At  Antwerp  a  mob  ravaged  the 
cathedral,  destroyed  the  statues,  cut  into  pieces 
the  paintings,  which  were  the  pride  of  Flemish 
art ;  demolished  the  great  organ,  the  most  perfect 
in  the  world ;  overthrew  the  seventy  altars,  and 
carried  off  the  vestments  and  sacred  vessels. 
These  scenes  continued  at  Antwerp  for  three  days, 
when  the}-  were  stopped  by  a  few  knights  of  the 
golden  fleece,  who,  with  their  retainers,  attacked 
and  dispersed  the  rioters.  Prescott  states  that  the 
amount  of  injury  inflicted  during  this  dismal 
period  it  is  not  possible  to  estimate.  Four  hun- 
dred churches  were  sacked  by  the  insurgents  in 
Flanders  alone.  The  damage  to  the  cathedral  at 
Antwerp  was  said  to  amount  to  not  less  than 
400,000  ducats.  But  who  can  estimate  the  irre- 
parable loss  occasioned  by  the  destruction  of 
manuscripts,  statues,  and  paintings?  The  frenzy 
of  the  people  was  aroused  purely  from  religious 
motives.  In  Flanders  a  company  of  rioters 
hanged  one  of  their  own  number  for  stealing  an 
article  to  the  value  of  five  shillings.  In  other 
places  the  Iconoclasts  were  offered  large  sums  of 
money  if  they  would  refrain  from  the  destruction 
of  churches,  but  the}"  rejected  these  proposals 
with  disdain. 

The  destruction  of  books  deemed  heretical  was 
for  many  centuries  a  favorite  method  of  disposing 
of  objectionable  authors,  and  in  this  manner  many 
of  the  most  valuable  works  of  the  ancients  have 
been  lost  forever,  as  well  as  some  of  the  best 
thoughts  of  later  writers. 


CURIOUS   HISTORICAL  FACTS   ABOUT   THE 
BIBLE. 

DURING  the  Reformation  in  England,  there 
arose  a  great  demand  for  Bibles  among  the 
people,  to  whom  it  had  previously  been  a  sealed 
book.  The  rapid  increase  of  sects,  and  the  spiri- 
tual interpretations  of  texts  to  suit  their  views, 
also  led  to  the  most  extravagant  corruptions  of 
the  Bible,  which  soon  swarmed  with  innumerable 
errata. 

These  errata  unquestionably  were  in  great  part 
voluntary  omissions,   passages   interpolated,    and 


meanings  forged  for  certain  purposes  ;  sometimes 
to  sanction  the  new  creed  of  a  half-hatched  sect, 
and  sometimes  with  an  intention  to  destroy  all 
scriptural  authority  by  a  confusion,  or  an  omission 
of  texts — the  whole  was  left  open  to  the  option  or 
the  malignity  of  the  editors,  who,  probably,  like 
certain  ingenious  wine-merchants,  contrived  to 
accommodate  ' '  the  waters  of  life  ' '  to  their  custo- 
mers' peculiar  taste.  They  had  also  a  project  of 
printing  Bibles  as  cheaply  and  in  form  as  con- 
tracted as  the}-  possibly  could  for  the  common 
people  ;  and  they  proceeded  till  it  nearly  ended 
with  having  no  Bible  at  all  :  and,  as  Fuller,  in 
his  "  Mixt  Contemplations  on  Better  Times," 
alluding  to  this  circumstance,  with  one  of  his 
luck}'  quibbles,  observes,  "The  small  price  of  the 
Bible  hath  caused  the  small  prizing  of  the  Bible." 

The  English  and  Scotch  presses  were  not  only 
kept  busily  employed,  but  the  demand  was  so 
great  that  Bibles  were  "also  imported  from  the 
Protestant  countries  of  the  Netherlands,  and  they 
were  not  any  more  accurate  than  those  which  were 
printed  at  home. 

These  errata  were  not  always  made  by  the 
printers,  as  might  at  first  be  supposed  ;  but,  in  the 
vigorous  language  of  a  writer  of  the  times,  they 
were  the  "egregious  blasphemies  and  damnable 
errors"  of  some  sectarian,  who  had  a  purpose  in 
making  them. 

The  printing  of  Bibles  was  at  length  conceded 
as  a  privilege  to  William  Bently  ;  but  he  was  op- 
posed by  two  other  printers  named  Hills  and 
Field.  A  paper  war  arose  in  consequence,  in 
which  the}-  mutually  recriminated  each  other,  and 
with  equal  truth. 

In  1653  Field  printed  what  is  known  as  "the 
Pearl  Bible,"  probably  from  the  smallness  of  the 
type  used.  There  are  many  errors  in  this  edi- 
tion, of  which  the  following  are  notable  exam- 
ples : 

Rom.  vi.  13  :  Neither  yield  ye  your  members 
as  instruments  of  righteousness  unto  sin — for  un- 
righteousness. 

1  Cor.  vi.  9 :  Know  ye  not  the  unrighteous 
shall  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God — for  shall  not 
inherit. 

This  last  error  served  as  the  formation  of  a 
dangerous  doctrine,  and  was  doubtless  intended 
for  that  purpose.  Many  libertines  urged  this 
text  in  justification  of  their  evil  practices. 

Field  was  a  great  former.     It  is  asserted  that  he 


BURNING  HERETICAL   BOOKS   DURING  THE   MIDDLE  AGES. 


(3V9) 


3S0 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AXD   THE 


received  a  present  of  ,£1500  from  the  Independ- 
ents to  corrupt  a  text  in  Acts  vi.  3,  to  sanction 
the  right  of  the  people  to  appoint  their  own  pas- 
tors. This  corruption  was  made  by  substituting 
ye  for  we. 

Other  Bibles  published  by  Field  and  Hills  con- 


A    BIBLE   SCRIBE   OF   THE   REFORMATION   PERIOD 

tained  so  many  errata  and  intentional  changes 
that  the}-  reduced  the  text  to  nonsense  or  blas- 
phemy, making  the  Scriptures  contemptible  to 
the  multitude,  who  came  to  pray  and  not  to 
scorn.  It  is  affirmed  that  one  of  these  Bibles 
swarmed  with  six  thousand  errors,  another  three 
thousand  six  hundred,  etc.     But  these  were  not 


the  first  attempts  to  alter  the  meaning  of  the 
Bible,  for  on  the  assembling  of  the  Council  of 
Trent,  in  1546,  a  commission  appointed  by  that 
bod}-  reported  that  the  text  of  the  translation 
then  in  use  had  been  so  corrupted  by  careless 
copyists,  indiscreet  revisers,  ambitious  critics, 
and  reckless  theologians,  that 
only  the  Pope  could  restore  it. 
But  these  incorrect  transla- 
tions served  the  purposes  of 
those  who  used  them,  so  that 
when  our  present  authentic 
translation  was  made  by  order 
of  King  James  the  First,  it 
was  suffered  to  lie  neglected 
for  many  years.  Copies  of 
the  original  manuscripts  were 
in  the  possession  of  two  of 
the  king's  printers,  who,  from 
cowardice,  consent,  and  con- 
nivance, suppressed  their  pub- 
lication ;  considering  that  a 
Bible  full  of  errors,  and  ac- 
commodated to  the  notions 
of  certain  sectarists,  was  more 
valuable  than  an  authentic 
edition.  The  King  James 
translation  was  completed 
about  161 1.  but  according  to 
good  authorities  it  was  not 
printed  until  about  1660. 

In  the  earlier  centuries  the 
four  gospels  of  the  New  Tes- 
tament were  generally  written 
in  one  collection,  and  the  epis- 
tles of  Paul  in  one.     The  gos- 
pels were  usually  given  in  the 
order  in  which  we  have  them 
now,    though  in   some   copies 
they   were    transposed.      The 
place  of  the  Apocalypse  was 
fixed  were   it  now  stands,  by 
Athanasius,  in  the  fourth  cen- 
turv.     For  the  convenience  of 
public  readings,  breaks   in  the   lines,  and  simple 
points,  were  introduced  about  the  same  time.    The 
gospels  were   divided  into  chapters  from   a  very 
early  period,  but  not  in  the  same  order  in  which 
we  now  have  them  :  the  present  arrangement  did 
not  originate  until  the  13th  century.     The  division 
of  the  Xew  Testament  into  verses  was  made  by 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


381 


Robert  Stephens,  in  1551,  while  performing  a 
journey  on  horseback  from  Paris  to  I/Hidon. 
Two  years  later  he  completed  the  versification  of 
the  Old  Testament.  Before  this  was  accomplished, 
it  is  difficult  to  conceive  how  references  were  made 
to  particular  passages.  Stephens  was  a  printer, 
and  he  used  his  new  arrangement  as  a  recom- 
mendation of  the  Bibles  published  by  himself, 
with  good  results  financially. 

The  proverbial  expression  of  "chapter  and 
verse ' '  is  peculiar  to  English-speaking  people, 
and  doubtless  originated  in  the  Puritanic  period, 
probably  just  before  the  civil  wars  under  Charles 
the  First,  from  the  frequent  custom  of  appealing 
to  the  Bible  on  the  most  frivolous  occasions. 
Those  who  engaged  in  this  practice  were  deri- 
sively designated  by  their  opponents  as  "those 
mighty  men  at  chapter  and  verse."  With  a  sort 
of  religious  coquetry,  they  were  vain  of  perpetu- 
ally opening  their  gilt  pocket  Bibles  in  proof  of 
their  peculiar  or  special  tenets.  The  learned 
Selden  found  considerable  amusement  in  attend- 
ing their  "assembly  of  divines,"  and  puzzling  or 
confounding  them  with  their  own  pedantic  pre- 
tences. A  ludicrous  anecdote  is  related  in  this 
connection.  One  of  their  assemblies  was  dis- 
cussing the  distance  between  Jerusalem  and 
Jericho,  with  a  perfect  ignorance  of  sacred  or 
ancient  geography  ;  one  said  it  was  twent}'  miles, 
another  ten,  and  at  last  it  was  concluded  to  be 
only  seven,  for  the  singular  reason  that  fish  were 
brought  from  Jericho  to  the  Jerusalem  market. 
Selden  silenced  their  disputations  by  observing 
that  perhaps  the  fish  were  salted  ! 


RELIGIOUS   INSANITY    OF    THE    16th    AND    17th 
CENTURIES. 

IT  appears  from  the  public  as  well  as  private  re- 
cords of  those  times  that  religion  and  fanaticism 
were  almost  synonymous  terms.  The  Creator 
was  regarded,  not  as  a  Father  of  mere}:,  but  as  a 
God  of  vengeance,  seeking  whom  He  might  de- 
stroy ;  and  they  spent  their  lives,  figuratively 
speaking,  in  sackcloth  and  ashes,  sorrowfully 
awaiting  the  day  of  destruction  which  they  felt 
sure  was  rapidly  approaching.  Such  a  belief  led 
naturally  to  all  sorts  of  fanatical  excesses  and 
ridiculous  customs.  It  was  also  the  parent  of 
the  intolerance  and  oppression  which  eventually 
drove  the  Puritans  to  seek  a  home  in  the  wilds  of 


America  ;  where  they  soon  proved  themselves  to- 
be  equally  as  intolerant  as  their  enemies  from 
whom  they  had  fled.  Each  particular  sect 
imagined  that  its  interpretation  of  the  Bible  was- 
the  only  true  one,  that  all  who  differed  from 
them  were  on  the  sure  road  to  damnation,  and 
that  it  was  a  religious  duty  to  save  their  souls, 
even  at  the  expense  of  the  destruction  of  their 
bodies.  These  fanatical  ideas  led  to  the  fearful 
religious  persecutions  that  blacken  the  history  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  and  which,  in  some  countries, 
extended  on  down  even  to  the  18th  and  the  com- 
mencement of  the  19th  century.  As  late  as 
November  26,  1815,  a  Mexican  Presbyterian  named 
Jose  Maria  Morelos,  was  executed  in  the  City  of 
Mexico  as  a  heretic — the  last  of  which  there  is 
any  official  record.  Fray  Vetancurt,  a  Mexican 
writer,  without  intending  to  be  at  all  facetious,  in 
describing  some  of  the  ancient  beauties  of  the 
city  of  the  Montezumas,  says  :  ' '  The  view  is  beau- 
tified by  the  Plaza  of  San  Hippolito — and  by  the 
burning -place  of  the  Holy- Office!"  The  peculiar 
"beauties"  of  this  place  were  enhanced  by  the 
erection  of  a  "square  platform,  with  a  wall  and 
terrace  arranged  for  the  stakes  to  which  the  con- 
demned, living  or  dead,  were  fastened  to  be  burned. 
Being  raised  on  a  large  open  space,  the  spectacle 
could  be  witnessed  by  the  entire  population  of  the 
city.  When  the  ceremony  was  ended,  the  ashes 
of  the  burned  were  thrown  into  the  marsh  that 
there  was  in  the  rear  of  the  church  of  San  Diego." 
Here,  according  to  the  records,  "twenty-one pesti- 
lential Lutherans  ' '  suffered  death  in  a  single  day, 
their  sufferings  and  contortions  no  doubt  adding 
greatly  to  the  ' '  beauties ' '  of  the  scene  and  the 
edification  of  the  populace.  It  was  the  merciful 
custom  to  hang  the  victims  first,  and  burn  their 
bodies  afterward,  but  i:i  special  cases  they  were 
burned  alive.  And  all  this  in  the  name  of  re- 
ligion ! 

But  enough  of  this  !  The  world  has  grown 
better,  and  wiser,  and  kinder;  the  "good  old 
times"  of  burnings  and  torturings  for  opinion's 
sake  have  passed  away  forever,  and  we  doubt  the 
propriety  of  recalling  them  to  the  minds  of  our 
modern  generations,  except  as  object-lessons  in 
proof  of  the  grand  progress  of  mankind. 

We  will  now  consider  an  instance  of  humorous 
folly,  practised  in  all  earnestness  by  a  very  learned 
and  devout  man  in  the  first  quarter  of  the  17th 
century.     We  copy  his  own  account  of  the  man- 


38: 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


tier  in  which  he  amused  himself,   as  recorded  in 
his  diary  : 

' '  I  spent  this  day  chiefly  in  private  fasting, 
prayer,  and  other  religious  exercises.  This  was 
the  first  time  that  I  ever  practised  this  study, 
having  always  before  declined  it,  by  reason  of  the 
Papists'  superstitious  abuses  of   it.     I   had  par- 


after  entered  upon  framing  an  evidence  of  marks 
and  signs  for  my  assurance  of  a  better  life. 

' '  I  found  much  benefit  of  my  secret  fasting, 
from  a  learned  discourse  on  fasting  by  Mr  Henry 
Mason,  and  observed  his  rule,  that  Christians 
ought  to  sit  sometimes  apart  for  their  ordinal- 
humiliation  and  fasting,  and  so  intend  to  continue 


RELIGIOUS    INSANITY    OF   TH 

taken  formerly  of  public  fasts,  but  never  knew 
the  use  and  benefit  of  the  same  duty  performed 
alone  in  secret,  or  with  others  of  mine  own  family 
in  private.  In  these  particulars,  I  had  my  know- 
ledge much  enlarged  by  the  religious  converse  I 
enjoyed  at  Albury-L,odge,  for  there  also  I  shortly 


SEYENTEEN'TH    CENTURY. 

the  same  course  as  long  as  my  health  will  permit 
me.  Yet  did  I  van-  the  times  and  duration  of  my 
fasting.  At  first,  before  I  had  finished  the  marks 
and  signs  of  my  assurance  of  a  better  life,  which 
scrutiny  and  search  cost  me  some  three-score  days 
of  fasting,  I  performed  it  sometimes  twice  in  the 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


383 


preface  in  Latin  also  to  it  ;  I  spent  a  great  part  of 
the  day  in  that  work,"  &c. 

"Saturday,  December  i,  1627,  I  devoted  to  my 


space  of  five  weeks,  then  once  each  month,  or  a 
little  sooner  or  later,  and  then  also  I  sometimes 
ended  the  duties  of  the  day,  and  took  some  little 
food  about  three 
of  the  clock  in 
the  afternoon. 
But  for  divers 
years  last  past, 
I  constantly  ab- 
stained from  all 
food  the  whole 
day.  I  fasted 
till  supper-time, 
about  six  in  the 
evening,  and 
spent  ordinarily 
about  eight  or 
nine  hours  in  the 
performance  of 
religious  duties  ; 
one  part  of 
which  was  a 
prayer  and  con- 
fession of  sins, 
to  which  end  I 
wrote  down  a 
catalogue  of  all 
my  known  sins, 
orderl}'.  These 
were  all  sins  of 
infirmity  ;  for 
through  God's 
grace,  I  was  so 
far  from  allow- 
ing myself  in 
the  practice  and 
commission  of 
any  actual  sins, 
as  I  durst  not 
take  upon  me 
any  controver- 
sial sins,  as 
usury,  carding, 
d  i  c  e  i  n  g ,  mixt 
dancing,  and  the 
like,  because  I 
was  in  mine  own     people  of  the  city  of  mexico  witnessing  an  execution  by  burning  at  the  stake. 

judgment  persuaded  they  were  unlawful.  Till  I  usual  course  of  secret  fasting,  and  drew  divers 
had  finished  my  assurance  first  in  English  and  signs  of  my  assurance  of  a  better  life,  from  the 
afterwards  in  Latin,  with  a  large  and  elaborate      grace  of  repentance,  having  before  gone  through 


384 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


the  gr?.ces  of  knowledge,  faith,  hope,  love,  zeal, 
patience,  humility,  and  joy  ;  and  drawing  several 
marks  from  them  on  like  days  of  humiliation  for 
the  greater  part.  My  dear  wife  beginning  also  to 
draw  most  certain  signs  of  her  own  future  happi- 
ness after  death  from  several  graces." 

"January  19,  162S. — Saturday  I  spent  in  secret 
humiliation  and  fastings,  and  finished  my  whole 
assurance  to  a  better  life,  consisting  of  three-score 
and  four  signs,  or  marks  drawn  from  several 
graces.  I  made  some  small  alterations  in  those 
signs  afterwards  ;  and  when  I  turned  them  into 
the  Latin  tongue,  I  enriched  the  margent  with 
further  proofs  and  authorities.  I  found  much 
comfort  and  reposedness  of  spirit  from  them, 
which  shows  the  devilish  sophisms  of  the  Papists, 
Anabaptists,  and  pseudo-Lutherans,  and  profane 
atheistical  men,  who  say  that  assurance  brings 
forth  presumption,  and  a  careless  wicked  life. 
True  when  men  pretend  to  the  end,  and  not  use 
the  means." 

"  My  wife  joined  with  me  in  a  private  day  of 
fasting  and  drew  several  signs  and  marks  by  my 
help  and  assistance,  for  her  assurance  to  a  better 
life." 

If  a  learned  man,  able  to  intelligently  express 
his  thoughts  in  two  or  more  languages,  could  de- 
vote his  life,  evenr  day,  to  such  absurd  follies  as 
are  above  described,  what  must  have  been  the 
condition  of  the  ignorant  and  unlettered !  Ob- 
serve, too,  the  secret  hate  that  apparently  rankled 
in  his  breast  against  all  who  were  opposed  to  him 
in  religious  belief,  as  shown  by  the  entries  in  his 
diary  under  the  date  of  January  19th. 

This  was  an  era  of  religious  diaries,  particu- 
larly among  the  non-conformists  ;  but  they  were, 
as  we  see,  used  by  others.  Of  the  Countess  of 
Warwick,  who  died  in  167S,  we  are  told,  that 
"She  kept  a  diary  and  took  counsels  with  two 
persons,  whom  she  called  her  soul's  friends." 
She  called  prayers  "heart's  ease,"  for  such  she 
found  them.  "  Her  own  lord,  knowing  her  hours 
of  prayers,  once  conveyed  a  goodly  minister  into 
a  secret  place  within  hearing,  who,  being  a  man 
very  able  to  judge,  much  admired  her  humble 
fervency  ;  for  in  praying  she  prayed  :  but  when 
she  did  not  with  an  audible  voice,  her  sighs  and 
groans  might  be  heard  at  a  good  distance  from 
the  closet."  We  are  not  surprised  to  discover 
this  practice  of  religious  diaries  among  the  more 
puritanic  sort ;   what  they  were  we  ma}*  discover 


from  this  description  of  one.  Mr.  John  Janeway 
"kept  a  diary,  in  which  he  wrote  down  every 
evening  what  the  frame  of  his  spirit  had  been  all 
that  day  ;  he  took  notice  what  incomes  he  had, 
what  profit  he  received  in  his  spiritual  traffic  ; 
what  returns  came  from  that  far  country  ;  what 
answers  of  prayer,  what  deadness  and  flatness  of 
spirit,"  etc.  And  so  we  find  of  Mr.  John  Carter, 
that  "He  kept  a  day-book  and  cast  up  his  ac- 
counts with  God  even-  da}-. 

We  should  like  to  know  if  the  good  man  found 
his  accounts  all  right  when  he  cast  them  up  in 
the  other  world.  These  follies  are  amusing  now, 
but  they  were  exceedingly  earnest  in  those  an- 
cient times. 

Such  was  the  domestic  state  of  many  well 
meaning  families,  that  they  were  rejecting  with 
the  utmost  abhorrence  even-  resemblance  to  what 
they  called  the  idolatry  of  Rome,  while,  in  fact, 
the  gloom  of  the  monastic  cell  was  settling  over 
the  houses  of  these  melancholy  Puritans.  Private 
fasts  were  more  than  ever  practised  ;  and  a  lady 
said  to  be  eminent  for  her  genius  and  learning, 
who  outlived  this  era,  declared  that  she  had  nearly 
lost  her  life  through  a  prevalent  notion  that  no 
fat  person  could  get  to  heaven  ;  and  thus  spoiled 
and  wasted  her  body  through  excessive  fastings. 
A  Quaker,  to  prove  the  text  that  "  Man  shall  not 
live  by  bread  alone,  but  by  the  word  of  God," 
persisted  in  refusing  his  meals.  The  literal  text 
proved  for  him  a  dead  letter,  and  this  practical 
commentator  died  by  a  metaphor.  This  Quaker, 
however,  was  not  the  only  victim  to  the  letter  of 
the  text ;  for  the  famous  Origen,  by  interpreting 
in  too  literal  a  way  the  twelfth  verse  of  the  nine- 
teenth chapter  of  St.  Matthew,  which  alludes  to 
those  persons  who  become  eunuchs  for  the  king- 
dom of  heaven,  with  his  own  hands  armed  him- 
self against  himself,  as  is  sufficiently  known. 
The  parliament  afterwards  had  both  periodical 
and  occasional  fasts  ;  and  Charles  the  First  op- 
posed "the  hypocritical  fast  of  every  Wednesday 
in  the  month  by  appointing  one  for  the  second 
Friday  ;"  thus  the  two  unhappy  parties,  who  were 
hungering  and  thirsting  for  each  other's  blood, 
fasted  to  spite  one  another  ! 

The  two  great  giants  in  this  theological  war 
were  the  famous  Richard  Baxter  and  Dr.  Owen. 
Each  of  these  good  men  wrote  a  library  of  books, 
the  controversy  growing  out  of  the  extraordinary 
and  incomprehensible  subject  as  to  whether  the 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


885 


death  of  Christ  was  solutio  cjusdcm,  or  only  tan- 
tundcm  ;  that  is,  whether  it  was  a  payment  of  the 
very  thing,  which  by  law  we  ought  to  have  paid, 
or  something  held  by  God  to  be  equivalent. 

Happily,  however,  this  absurd  controversy  did 
not  lead  to  such  sanguinary  results  as  the  one  in 
Russia,  out  of  which  there  came  a  long  and 
bloody  war,  over  the  question  as  to  whether  it 
was  proper  for  the  Metropolitan,  in  blessing  the 
people,  to  hold  up  the  two  fingers  of  his  right 
hand,  or  merely  the  thumb !  The  thumb,  we  be- 
lieve, eventually  gained  the  day,  after  many 
^^fri;^-,;,,;. 


ran  riot.  There  were  the  ' '  Brownists ' '  from 
Robert  Brown  ;  the  ' '  Vaneists ' '  from  Sir  Henry 
Vane,  besides  the  humbler  followers  of  Mr.  Frank, 
Mr.  Wilkinson,  Mr.  Robinson,  and  many  others  ; 
also  the  Grindletonian  family,  who  preferred 
"motions  to  motives,"  and  conveniently  assumed 
that  ' '  their  spirit  should  not  be  tried  by  trie- 
Scriptures,  but  the  Scriptures  by  their  spirit."  A 
learned  antiquarian  collected  a  list  of  over  two  hurt- 
drcd  of  these  peculiar  sects,  which  arose  and  flour- 
ished during  the  revolutionary  period  in  England. 
Intelligent,  well-meaning  persons  were  affected 


rt';  1,!!|& 


RELIGIOUS   CONTROVERSY   DURING    THE    REFORMATION. 


thousands  of  poor  Russians  had  been  slaughtered 
and  crippled  in  a  senseless  and  bloody  war. 

In  England  these  metaphysical  controversies 
ran  to  words  rather  than  blows,  and  printers'  ink 
was  shed  more  abundantly  than  human  gore. 
Every  one  became  his  own  Bible-maker  and  his 
own  prophet,  and  even  the  meanest  aspired  to  give 
his  name  -to  some  sect.  One  saint,  becoming 
afflicted  with  St.  Vitus' s  dance,  supposed  he  had 
caught  a  peculiar  sort  of  religion,  and  succeeded 
in  establishing  a  sect ! 

Eveiy-  enthusiast  had  his  own  particular  sect 
and  his  own  manner  of  worshipping.  Religion 
25 


by  this  religious  insanity,  as  well  as  the  ignorant 
and  emotional.  One  case  may  stand  for  man}'. 
A  Mr.  Griswold,  of  Warwickshire,  whom  a 
' '  Brownist ' '  had  by  degrees  enticed  from  his 
parish  church,  was  afterward  persuaded  to  return 
to  it,  but  he  came  back  with  a  troubled  mind,  and 
lost  in  the  prevalent  theological  fogs.  A  horroi 
of  his  future  existence  shut  him  out,  as  it  were, 
from  his  present  one,  so  that,  entering  into  his 
own  house  with  his  children,  he  ceased  to  com- 
municate with  the  living  world.  He  had  his  food 
put  in  at  the  window,  and  when  his  children  lay 
sick,  he  would  suffer  no  one  to  come  to  their  reiitl 


3S6    THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


The  house  was  at  length  forced  open,  by  some  of 
his  neighbors  who  were  governed  more  by  feelings 
of  humanity  than  respect  for  absurd  religious 
notions.  They  found  two  children  dead  and  the 
father  confined  to  his  bed.  He  had  mangled  his 
Bible,  cutting  out  the  titles,  contents,  and  every- 
thing except  the  very  text  itself ;  for  he  seemed 
to  think  that  everything  human  was  sinful,  and 
that  the  titles  of  the  books  and  the  contents  of  the 
chapters  should  be  destroyed  because  the}-  were 
the  work  of  men.  He  wanted  nothing  but  the 
pure  word  of  God  ;  and  yet  it  did  not  teach  him 
humanity  to  his  own  children. 

Many  other  absurd,  wicked,  and  foolish  things 
were  done.  In  1640  a  pamphlet  was  printed 
bearing  this  remarkable  title :  ' '  Xews  from 
Powles ;  or,  the  Xew  Reformation  of  the  Army, 
with  a  True  Relation  of  a  Colt  that  was  Foaled 
in  the  Cathedral  Church  of  St.  Paul  in  London, 
and  how  it  was  Publiquely  Baptized,  and  the 
Name  (because  a  Bald  Colt  1  was  called  Baal-Rex. ' ' 
These  were  the  men  who  baptized  horses  and  pigs 
in  the  name  of  the  Trinity,  and  sang  psalms  when 
they  marched  or  went  into  battle  ! 

Society  itself  seemed  dissolved  ;  for  every  tie 
of  private  affection  and  public  duty  was  unloos- 
ened. Even  nature  was  strangely  violated.  After 
the  first  departure  from  decorous  ceremonies  in 
religious  services,  it  was  easy  to  reach  the  next 
stage  of  ridicule  and  absurdity.  They  began  by 
calling  the  surplice  a  linen  rag  on  the  back  :  bap- 
tism a  Christ-cross  on  a  baby's  face;  while  the 
organ  was  likened  to  the  bellow,  the  grunt,  and 
the  barking  of  the  respective  animals.  Horses 
were  actually  baptized  at  the  fonts  in  churches ; 
and  the  jest  of  that  day  was  that  the  reformation 
was  now  a  thorough  one  in  England,  since  the 
horses  went  to  church.  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  was 
turned  itito  a  market,  and  the  aisles,  the  altar, 
and  the  communion  table  served  for  the  most  in- 
appropriate purposes.  The  most  horrible  blas- 
phemies were  perpetrated.  A  glazier  was  de- 
clared to  be  a  prophet,  and  it  was  claimed  that 
his  wife  was  soon  to  become  the  mother  of  the 
Messiah.  A  man  married  his  father's  wife.  A 
woman  crucified  her  own  mother ;  another,  in 
imitation  of  Abraham,  sacrificed  her  own  child. 
In  some  of  these  particulars  history  has  repeated 
itself.  Only  a  few  years  ago  a  man  and  woman 
in  one   of  oflr  Eastern  States  were   arrested   for 


having  murdered  a  dearly  loved  child  after  the 
manner  of  Abraham's  sacrifice  of  Isaac;  and  at 
this  moment  there  is  a  lunatic  in  Illinois  (or  more 
likely  a  licentious  reprobate )  claiming  to  be  Jesus 
Christ — and,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  he  has  found 
people  silly  enough  to  believe  his  claim.  But  in 
matters  of  religion  it  seems  that  there  is  nothing 
too  silly  or  too  absurd  to  find  believers  among  the 
ignorant  and  credulous.  In  those  mad  times  of 
religious  insanity,  one  madman  of  the  many 
drank  a  health  "to  the  devil,"  on  his  knees,  in 
the  midst  of  a  town,  so  that  it  should  not  be  said 
that  his  family  had  become  extinct  without  doing 
some  infamous  act. 

A  perfect  scene  of  the  effects  of  this  condition 
of  society  upon  the  lower  orders,  is  found  in  the 
manuscript  life  of  John  Shaw,  vicar  of  Rotheram, 
in  an  account  of  what  happened  to  himself.  This 
honest  divine  was  puritanically  inclined,  but  there 
can  be  no  exaggeration  in  these  unvarnished  facts. 
He  tells  a  remarkable  story  of  the  state  of  religi- 
ous knowledge  in  Lancashire,  at  a  place  called 
Cartmel :  some  of  the  people  appeared  desirous 
of  religious  instruction,  declaring  that  they  were 
without  any  minister,  and  had  entirely  neglected 
even-  religious  rite,  and  therefore  pressed  him  to 
quit  his  situation  at  Lymm  for  a  short  period.  He 
may  now  tell  his  own  story  : 

"I  found  a  very  large  spacious  church,  scarce 
any  seats  in  it ;  a  people  very  ignorant,  and  yet 
willing  to  learn  ;  so  I  had  frequently  some  thou- 
sands of  hearers.  I  catechised  in  season  and  out 
of  season.  The  churches  were  so  thronged  at 
nine  in  the  morning,  that  I  had  much  ado  to  get 
to  the  pulpit.  One  day  an  old  man  about  sixty, 
sensible  enough  in  other  things,  and  living  in  the 
parish  of  Cartmel,  coming  to  me  on  some  busi- 
ness, I  told  him  that  he  belonged  to  my  care  and 
charge,  and  I  desired  to  be  informed  in  his  knowl- 
edge of  religion.  I  asked  him  how  many  Gods 
there  were  ?  He  said  he  knew  not.  I  informed 
him,  asked  again  how  he  thought  to  be  saved  ? 
He  answered  he  could  not  tell.  Yet  thought  that 
was  a  harder  question  than  the  other.  I  told  him 
that  the  way  to  salvation  was  by  Jesus  Christ, 
God-man,  who  as  he  was  man  shed  his  blood  for 
us  on  the  cross,  &c.  Oh,  sir,  said  he,  I  think  I 
heard  of  that  man  you  speak  of  once  in  a  play  at 
Kendall,  called  Corpus-Christ's  play,  where  there 
was   a   man   on  a  tree  and  blood  run  down,  &c. 


(388) 


DESECRATION   OF   CHURCHES   AND   SACRED    PLACES. 


fr-Arid  afterwards  he 
Kprofessed  he  could 
Ml  not  remem  ber  that 
Jjihe  eve,    heard    of 
H  salvation  by  Jesus, 
ijbiit  in  that  play." 
U     The    parliament 
Bat    length     issued 
§1  one  of  their  orch- 
il nances   for    "  pun- 
11  ishing  blasphe- 
§§|mous   and  execra- 
ble opinions"  and 
this  was    enforced 
j  with  greater  power 
than    the  slight 
proclamations  of 
James  and  Charles; 
but    the    curious 
wording  is  a  com- 
Hf  ment  on  our  pres- 
2nt    subject.     The 
preamble  notices 
;,3H  that  ' '  men  and  wo- 
||$  men  had  latelj-  dis- 
covered    monstrous 
™  opinions,  even  such 
as  tended  to  the  dis- 
solution  of  human 
society,     and    have 
I  abused,  a?id  turned 
into     licentiousness, 
the  liberty  given  in 
matters   of    reli- 
gion.' '    It  punishes 
anj' person,  not  dis- 
tempered   in    his 
brains,    who    shall 
maintain  anj'  mere 
creature  f  o  be  God ; 
]  or  that  all  acts  of 
unrighteousness 
I  are  not    forbidden 
in  the  Scriptures  ; 
[  or   that    God    ap- 
I  proves  of  them  ;  or 
j  that    there    is    no 
!  real  difference  be- 
i  tween  moral  good 
and  evil,  &c. 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


389 


TOUCHING 


INCIDENTS  OF    THE 
LONDON. 


PLAGUE    IN 


THE  following  incidents  of  the  plague  in  Eon- 
don  are  recorded  in  the  writings  of  Daniel 
Defoe,  the  author  of  "  Robinson  Crusoe." 

Much  about  the  same  time  I  walked  out  into 
the  fields  towards  Bow,  for  I  had  a  great  mind  to 
.see  how  things  were  managed  in  the  river,  and 


sea-wall,  as  they  call  it,  by  himself.  I  walked  a 
while  also  about,  seeing  the  houses  all  shut  up  ; 
at  last  I  fell  into  some  talk,  at  a  distance,  with 
this  poor  man.  First  I  asked  how  people  did 
thereabouts  ?  Alas  !  sir,  says  he,  almost  desolate  ; 
all  dead  or  sick  :  Here  are  very  few  families  in 
this  part,  or  in  that  village,  pointing  at  Poplar, 
where  half  of  them  are  not  dead  already,  and  the 


Til  LC    DEAD    MOTHER. 


among  the  ships  ;  and  as  I  had  some  concern  in 
shipping,  I  had  a  notion  that  it  had  been  one  of 
the  best  ways  of  securing  one's  self  from  the  in- 
fection, to  have  retired  into  a  ship;  and  musing 
how  to  satisfy  my  curiosity  in  that  point,  I  turned 
away  over  the  fields,  from  Bow  to  Bromley,  and 
down  to  Black  wall,  to  the  stajrs  that  are  there  for 
landing  or  taking  water. 

Here  I  saw  a  poor  man  walking  on  the  bank  or 


rest  sick.  Then  he,  pointing  to  one  house,  There 
they  are  all  dead,  said  he,  and  the  house  stands 
open  ;  nobody  dares  go  into  it.  A  poor  thief, 
says  he,  ventured  in  to  steal  something,  but  he 
paid  dear  for  his  theft,  for  he  was  carried  to  the 
churchyard  too,  last  night.  Then  he  pointed  to 
several  other  houses.  There,  says  he,  they  are 
all  dead,  the  man  and  his  wife  and  five  children. 
There,    says  he,    they    are    shut   up ;    you   see  a 


390 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


watchman  at  the  door  ;  and  so  of  other  houses. 
Why,  says  I,  what  do  you  here  all  alone  ?  Why, 
says  he,  I  am  a  poor  desolate  man  ;  it  hath  pleased 
God  I  am  not  yet  visited,  though  my  family  is, 
and  one  of  my  children  dead.  How  do  you  mean 
then,  said  I,  that  you  are  not  visited?  Why,  says 
he,  that  is  my  house,  pointing  to  a  very  little  low 
boarded  house,  and  there  niy  poor  wife  and  two 
children  live,  said  he,  if  they  may  be  said  to  live  ; 
for  my  wife  and  one  of  the  children  are  visited, 


honest  man,  that  is  a  great  mercy,  as  things  go 
now  with  the  poor.  But  how  do  you  live  then, 
and  how  are  you  kept  from  the  dreadful  calamity 
that  is  now  upon  us  all  ?  Why,  sir,  says  he,  I  am 
a  waterman,  and  there  is  my  boat,  says  he,  and 
the  boat  serves  me  for  a  house  ;  I  work  in  it  in 
the  day,  and  I  sleep  in  it  in  the  night,  and  what 
I  get  I  lay  it  down  upon  that  stone,  says  he,  show- 
ing me  a  broad  stone  on  the  other  side  of  the 
street,  a  good  way  from  his  house  ;  and  then,  says 


SKIPS    ANCHORED    IX    THE   THAMES    DURING   THE    LONDON*    PLAGUE. 


but  I  d  i  not  come  at  them.  And  with  that  word 
I  saw  1he  tears  run  very  plentifully  down  his  face  ; 
and  so  they  did  down  mine  too,  I  assure  you. 

But,  said  I.  why  do  you  not  come  at  them  ? 
How  can  you  abandon  your  own  flesh  and  blood? 
Oh,  sir,  says  he,  the  Lord  forbid  :  I  do  not  aban- 
don them  ;  I  work  for  them  as  much  as  I  am  able  ; 
and,  blessed  be  the  Lord,  I  keep  them  from  want. 
And  with  that  I  observed  he  lifted  up  his  eyes  to 
heaven  with  a  countenance  that  presently  told  me 
I  had  happened  on  a  man  that  was  no  hypocrite, 
but  a  serious,  religious,  good  man  ;  and  his  ejacu- 
lation was  an  expression  of  thankfulness,  that,  in 
such  a  condition  as  he  was  in,  he  should  be  able 
to    say  his   family  did  not  want.     Well,   savs  J 


he,  I  halloo  and  call  to  them  till  I  make  them 
hear,  and  they  come  and  fetch  it. 

Well,  friend,  says  I,  but  how  can  you  get 
money  as  a  waterman  ?  Does  anybody  go  by 
water  these  times  ?  Yes,  sir,  says  he,  in  the  way 
I  am  employed  there  does.  Do  you  see  there, 
says  he,  five  ships  lie  at  anchor?  pointing  down 
the  river  a  good  way  below  the  town  ;  and  do 
you  see,  says  he,  eight  or  ten  ships  lie  at  the  chain 
-.here,  and  at  anchor  yonder  ?  pointing  above  the 
town.  All  those  ships  have  families  on  board,  of 
their  merchants  and  owners,  and  such  like,  who 
have  locked  themselves  up,  and  live  on  board, 
close  shut  in,  for  fear  of  the  infection  ;  and  I  tend 
o.i  them  to  fetch  things  for  them,  carry  letters, 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


391 


and  do  what  is  absolutely  necessary,  that  they 
may  not  be  obliged  to  come  on  shore  ;  and  every 
night  I  fasten  my  boat  on  board  one  of  the  ship's 
boats  and  there  I  sleep  by  myself ;  and  blessed  be 
God,  I  am  preserved  hitherto. 

Well,  said  I,  friend,  but  will  they  let  you  come 
on  board  after  you  have  been  on  shore  here,  when 
this  has  been  such  a  terrible  place,  and  so  infected 
as  it  is. 

Why,  as  to  that,  said  he,  I  very  seldom  go  up 
the  ship-side,  but  deliver  what  I  bring  to  their 
boat,  or  lie  by  the  side,  and  they  hoist  it  on 
board  ;  if  I  did  I  think  they  are  in  no  danger 
from  me,  for  I  never  go  into  any  house  on  shore, 
or  touch  anybody,  no,  not  of  my  own  family  ; 
but  I  fetch  provision.3  for  them. 

Nay,  sa3's  I,  but  that  may  be  worse,  for  you 
must  have  those  provisions  of  somebody  or 
other ;  and  since  all  this  part  of  the  town  is  so 
infected,  it  is  dangerous  so  much  as  to  speak 
with  anybody ;  for  the  village  said  I,  is,  as  it 
were,  the  beginning  of  London,  though  it  be  at 
some  distance  from  it. 

That  is  true,  added  he,  but  you  do  not  under- 
stand me  right.  I  do  not  buy  provisions  for  them 
here ;  I  row  up  to  Greenwich,  and  buy  fresh 
meat  there,  and  sometimes  I  row  down  the  river 
to  Woolwich,  and  buy  there  ;  then  I  go  to  single 
farm-houses  on  the  KeVitish  side,  where  I  am 
known,  and  buy  fowls,  and  eggs,  and  butter,  and 
bring  to  the  ships,  as  they  direct  me,  sometimes 
one,  sometimes  the  other.  I  seldom  come  on 
shore  here  ;  and  I  came  only  now  to  call  my 
wife,  and  hear  how  my  little  family  do,  and  give 
them  a  little  money  which  I  received  last  night. 

Poor  man  !  said  I,  and  how  much  hast  thou 
gotten  for  them  ? 

I  have  gotten  four  shillings,  said  he,  which 
is  a  good  sum,  as  things  go  now  with  poor  men  ; 
but  they  have  given  me  a  bag  of  bread  too,  and 
a  salt  fish,  and  some  flesh  ;  so  all  helps  out. 

Well,  said  I,  and  have  you  given  it  them 
yet? 

No,  said  he,  but  I  have  called,  and  my  wife 
has  answered  that  she  cannot  come  out  yet ;  but 
in  half  an  hour  she  hopes  to  come,  and  I  am 
waiting  for  her.  Poor  woman  !  says  he,  she  is 
brought  sadly  down  ;  she  has  had  a  swelling, 
and  it  is  broke,  and  I  hope  she  will  recover,  but 
I  fear  the  child  will  die  ;  but  it  is  the  Lord  ! 
Here  he  stopt,   and  wept  very  much. 


Well,  honest  friend,  said  I,  thou  hast  a  sure 
comforter,  if  thou  hast  brought  thyself  to  be  re- 
signed to  the  will  of  God  ;  he  is  dealing  with 
us  all  in  judgment. 

Oh,  sir,  says  he,  it  is  infinite  mercy  if  any  of  us 
are  spared  ;  and  who  am  I  to  repine  ! 

Say'st  thou  so,  said  I  ;  and  how  much  less  is 
my  faith  than  thine  !  And  here  my  heart  smote 
me,  suggesting  how  much  better  this  poor  man's 
foundation  was,  on  which  he  staid  in  the  danger, 
than  mine;  that  he  had  nowhere  to  fly;  that  he  had 
a  family  to  bind  him  to  attendance,  which  I  had 
not ;  and  mine  was  mere  presumption,  his  a  true 
dependence  and  a  courage  resting  on  God  ;  and 
yet,  that  he  used  all  possible  caution  for  his 
safety. 

I  turned  a  little  way  from  the  man  while  these 
thoughts  engaged  me  ;  for,  indeed,  I  could  no 
more  refrain  from  tears  than  he. 

At  length,  after  some  farther  talk,  the  poor 
woman  opened  the  door,  and  called  Robert, 
Robert ;  he  answered,  and  bid  her  stay  a  few  mo- 
ments and  he  would  come  ;  so  he  ran  down  the 
common  stairs  to  his  boat,  and  fetched  up  a  sack 
in  which  was  the  provisions  he  had  brought  from 
the  ships  ;  and  when  he  returned,  he  halloed 
again  ;  then  he  went  to  the  great  stone  which  he 
showed  me,  and  emptied  the  sack,  and  laid  all 
out,  everything  by  themselves,  and  then  retired  ; 
and  his  wife  came  with  a  little  boy  to  fetch  them 
away  ;  and  he  called,  and  said,  such  a  captain 
had  sent  such  a  thing,  and  such  a  captain,  such  a 
thing  :  and  at  the  end  adds,  God  has  sent  it  all, 
give  thanks  to  him.  When  the  poor  woman  had 
taken  up  all,  she  was  so  weak,  she  could  not 
carry  it  at'  once  in,  though  the  weight  was  not 
much  neither,  so  she  left  the  biscuit,  which  was 
in  a  little  bag,  and  left  a  little  boy  to  watch  it  till 
she  came  again. 

Well,  but,  says  I  to  him,  did  you  leave  her 
the  four  shillings,  too,  which  you  said  was  your 
week's  pay? 

Yes,  yes,  says  he,  you  shall  hear  her  own  it. 
So  he  calls  again,  Rachel,  which,  it  seems,  wa; 
her  name,  did  you  take  up  the  money?  Yes, 
said  she.  How  much  was  it?  said  he.  Four 
shillings  and  a  groat,  said  she.  Well,  well,  says 
he,  the  Lord  keep  yen  all ;  and  so  he  turned  to 
go  away. 

As  I  could  not  retrain  contributing  tears  to  this 
man's  story,  so  neither  could  I  refrain  my  charity 


39: 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND    THE 


for  his  assistance;  so  I  called  him.  Hark,  thee, 
friend,  said  I,  come  hither,  for  I  believe  thou  art 
in  health,  that  I  may  venture  thee  ;  so  I  pulled 
out  my  hand,  which  was  in  my  pocket  before. 
Here,  says  I,  go  and  call  thy  Rachel  once  more, 
and  give  her  a  little  more  comfort  from  me ;  God 
will  never  forsake  a  family  that  trust  in  him  as 
thou  dost :  so  I  gave  him  four  other  shillings, 
and  bid  him  go  lay  them  on  the  stone,  and  call 
his  wife. 

I  have  not  words  to  express  the  poor  man's 
thankfulness,  neither  could  he  express  it  himself, 
but  by  teats  running  down  his  face.  He  called 
his  wife,  and  told  her  that  God  had  moved  the 
heart  of  a  stranger,  upon  hearing  their  condition, 
to  give  them  all  that  money ;  and  a  great  deal 
more  such  as  that  he  said  to  her.  The  woman, 
too,  made  signs  of  the  like  thankfulness,  as  well 
to  Heaven  as  to  me,  and  joyfully  picked  it  up; 
and  I  parted  with  no  money  all  that  year  that  I 
thought  better  bestowed. 


VULGAR  HOSPITALITY. 

THOSE  inferior  duties  of  life  which  the  French 
call  ks petites  morales,  or  the  smaller  morals, 
are  with  us  distinguished  by  the  "name  of  good 
manners  or  breeding.  This  I  look  upon,  in  the 
general  notion  of  it,  to  be  a  sort  of  artificial  good 
sense,  adapted  to  the  meanest  capacities,  and  in- 
troduced to  make  mankind  easy  in  their  com- 
merce with  each  other.  L,ow  and  little  under- 
standings, without  some  rules  of  this  kind,  would 
be  perpetually  wandering  into  a  thousand  in- 
decencies and  irregularities  in  behaviour  ;  and  in 
their  ordinary  conversation,  fall  into  the  same 
boisterous  familiarities  that  one  observeth  amongst 
them  when  a  debauch  hath  quite  taken  away  the 
use  of  their  reason.  In  other  instances,  it  is  odd 
to  consider,  that  for  want  of  common  discretion, 
the  very  end  of  good  breeding  is  wholly  perverted  ; 
and  civility,  intended  to  make  us  easy,  is  em- 
ployed in  laying  chains  and  fetters  upon  us,  in 
debarring  us  of  our  wishes,  and  in  crossing  our 
most  reasonable  desires  and  inclinations.  This 
abuse  reigneth  chiefly  in  the  country,  as  I  found 
to  my  vexation,  when  I  was  last  there,  in  a  visit 
I  made  to  a  neighbour  about  two  miles  from  my 
cousin.  As  soon  as  I  entered  the  parlour,  they 
put  me  into  the  great  chair  that  stood  close  by  a 
huge  fire,  and  kept  me  there  by  force  until  I  was 
almost  stifled.     Then  a  boy  came  in  great  hurry 


to  pull  off  my  boots,  which  I  in  vain  opposed, 
urging  that  I  must  return  soon  after  dinner.  In 
the  meantime,  the  good  lady  whispered  her 
eldest  daughter,  and  slipped  a  key  into  her  hand. 
The  girl  returned  instantly  with  a  beer-glass  half 
full  of  aqua  mirabilis  and  syrup  of  gilly-flowers. 
I  took  as  much  as  I  had  a  mind  for ;  but  madam 
vowed  I  should  drink  it  off  (for  she  was  sure  it 
would  do  me  good,  after  coming  out  of  the  cold 
air),  and  I  was  forced  to  obey ;  which  absolutely 
took  away  my  stomach.  When  dinner  came  in,  I 
had  a  mind  to  sit  at  a  distance  from  the  fire  ;  but 
thej'  told  me  it  was  as  much  as  my  life  was  worth, 
and  set  me  with  my  back  just  against  it.  Al- 
though my  appetite  were  quite  gone,  I  resolved 
to  force  down  as  much  as  I  could  ;  and  desired 
the  leg  of  a  pullet.  Indeed,  Mr.  Bickerstaff, 
says  the  lady,  you  must  eat  a  wing,  to  oblige  me ; 
and  so  put  a  couple  upon  my  plate.  I  was  perse- 
cuted at  this  rate  during  the  whole  meal.  As 
often  as  I  called  for  small  beer,  the  master  tipped 
the  wink,  and  the  servant  brought  me  a  brimmer 
of  October.  Some  time  after  dinner,  I  ordered 
my  cousin's  man,  who  came  with  me,  to  get  ready 
the  horses,  but  it  was  resolved  I  should  not  stir 
that  night ;  and  when  I  seemed  pretty  much 
bent  upon  going,  the}'  ordered  the  stable  door  to 
be  locked  ;  and  the  children  hid  my  cloak  and 
boots.  The  next  question  was,  what  I  would 
have  for  supper?  I  said  I  never  eat  anything  at 
night ;  but  was  at  last,  in  my  own  defence, 
obliged  to  name  the  first  thing  that  came  into  my 
head.  After  three  hours  spent  chiefly  in  apolo- 
gies for  my  entertainment,  insinuating  to  me, 
' '  That  this  was  the  worst  time  of  the  year  for 
provisions ;  that  they  were  at  a  great  distance 
from  any  market ;  that  they  were  afraid  I  should 
be  starved  ;  and  that  they  knew  they  kept  me  to 
my  loss,"  the  lady  went  and  left  me  to  her  hus- 
band (for  they  took  special  care  I  should  never  be 
alone).  As  soon  as  her  back  was  turned,  the  lit- 
tle misses  ran  backwards  and  forwards  ever}'  mo- 
ment ;  and  constantly,  as  they  came  in  or  went 
out,  made  a  curtsy  directly  at  me,  which  in  good 
manners  I  was  forced  to  return  with  a  bow,  and, 
"  Your  humble  sen-ant,  pretty  Miss."  Exactly  at 
eight  the  mother  came  up,  and  discovered  by  the 
redness  of  her  face  that  supper  was  not  far  off. 
It  was  twice  as  large  as  the  dinner,  and  my  per- 
secution doubled  in  proportion.  I  desired  at  my 
usual  hour  to  go  to  my  repose,  and  was  conducted 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


593 


to  my  chamber  by  the  gentleman,  his  lady,  and 
the  whole  train  of  children.  They  importuned 
me  to  drink  something  before  I  went  to  bed ;  and 
upon  my  refusing,  at  last  left  a  bottle  of  stingo, 
as  they  called  it,  for  fear  I  should  wake  and  be 
thirsty  in  the  night.  I  was  forced  in  the  morn- 
ing to  rise  and  dress  myself  in  the  dark,  because 
they  would  not  suffer  my  kinsman's  servant  to 
disturb  me  at  the  hour  I  desired  to  be  called.  I 
was  now  resolved  to  break  through  all  measures 
to  get  away ;  and  after  sitting  down  to  a  mon- 


the  absurdities  I  met  with  in  this  visit  proceeded 
from  an  ill  intention,  but  from  a  wrong  judgment 
of  complaisance,  and  a  misapplication  in  the 
rules  of  it. — Jonathan  Swift. 


SINGULAR    EXPERIENCE    OF    AN     AMERICAN 

PRISONER    OF  WAR    DURING    THE 

REVOLUTION. 

FLATBUSH  was  the  place  assigned  for  the  offi- 
cers of  our  regiment,  as  well  as  those  of  Ma- 
gaw's.     Here  also,  were  stationed  Colonels  Miles, 


VULGAR    HOSPITALITY. 


strous  breakfast  of  cold  beef,  mutton,  neats'- 
tongu.es,  venison -pasty,  and  stale  beer,  took  leave 
of  the  family.  But  the  gentleman  would  needs 
see  me  part  of  my  way,  and  carry  me  a  short  cut 
through  his  own  grounds,  which  he  told  me 
would  save  half  a  mile's  riding.  This  last  piece 
of  civility  had  liked  to  have  cost  me  dear,  being 
once  or  twice  in  danger  of  my  neck,  by  leaping 
over  his  ditches,  and  at  last  forced  to  alight  in  the 
dirt ;  when  my  horse,  having  slipped  his  bridle, 
ran  away,  and  took  us,  up  more  than  an  hour  to 
recover  him  again.      It  is  evident,  that  none  of 


Atlee  Rawlings,  and  Major  Williams  ;  the  indul- 
gence of  arranging  ourselves  agreeably  to  our  re- 
spective circles  of  acquaintance  having  been  granted 
by  Mr.  Loring,  of  whom,  for  my  own  part,  I 
have  nothing  hard  to  say.  Mr.  Forrest  and  myself 
were  billeted  on  a  Mr.  Jacob  Suydam.  His  house 
was  pretty  large,  consisting  of  buildings  which 
appeared  to  have  been  erected  at  different  times, 
the  front  and  better  part  of  which  was  in  the  oc- 
cupation of  Mr.  Theophylact  Bache  and  his  family, 
from  New  York.  Though  we  were  in  general 
civilly  enough  received,   it  cannot  be   supposed 


394 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


that  we  were  very  welcome  to  our  Low  Dutch  would  in  both  'cases  induce  a  stoppage  of  pay- 
hosts,  whose  habits  of  living  were  extremely  par-  ment.  They  were,  however,  a  people  who  seemed 
sirnonious,  and  whose  winter  provision  was  barely  thoroughly  disposed  to  submit  to  any  power  which 
sufficient  for  themselves.  Had  they  been  sure  of  might  be  set  over  them  ;  and  whatever  might 
receiving  the  two  dollars  a- week,  it  might  have  have  been  their  propensities  or  demonstrations  at 


II 


Hill 

ill 


wife 


liliilllK 

IltiliH^l 


m^m 


%=tt  V«ni i"i ji  jifaifaV^- 


fm 


•li 
ill 


EARLY   DUTCH   INHABITANTS   OF   NKW   YOKK. 


reconciled  them  to  the  measure  ;  but  payment  ap-  an  earlier  stage  of  the  contest,  they  were  now  the 

peared  to  them  to  depend  on  the  success  of  our  dutiful  and  loyal  subjects  of  His  Majesty  George 

cause  (Congress,  or  ourselves,  being  looked  upon  the  Third  ;    and  entirel}-  obedient  to  the  behests 

as  the  paymasters),  and  its  failure,  in  their  eyes,  of  their  military   masters  in   New  York.     As  it 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


395 


was  at  the  instance  of  these  that  we  were  saddled 
upon  them,  they  received  us  with  the  best  grace 
they  could  put  on.  Their  houses  and  beds  were 
found  clean,  but  their  living  extremely  poor,  and 
well  calculated  to  teach  the  luxurious,  how  infin- 
itely less  than  their  pampered  appetites  require, 
is  essential  to  the  sustenation  of  life. 

A  sorry  wash,  made  up  of  a  sprinkling  of  bohea, 
and  the  darkest  sugar  on  the  verge,  of  fluidity, 
with  half-baked  bread,  fuel  being  among  the 
scarcest  articles  at  Flatbush,  and  a  little  stale 
butter,  constituted  our  breakfast.  At  our  first 
coming,  a  small  piece  of  pickled  beef  was  occa- 
sionally boiled  for  dinner,  but,  to  the  beef 
which  was  soon  consumed,  succeeded  clippers 
or  clams,  and  our  unvaried  supper  was  supon  or 
mush,  sometimes  with  skimmed  milk,  but 
more  generally  with  buttermilk,  blended  with 
molasses,  which  was  kept  for  weeks  in  a  churn,  as 
swill  is  saved  for  hogs.  I  found  it,  however,  after 
a  little  use,  very  eatable  ;  and  supper  soon  became 
m}-  best  meal.  The  table  company  consisted  of 
the  master  of  the  house,  Mr.  Jacob  Suydam,  an 
old  bachelor,  a  young  man,  a  shoemaker  of  the 
name  of  Rem  Hagerman,  married  to  Jacob's 
niece,  who,  with  a  mewling  infant  in  her  arms, 
never  failed  to  appear.  A  black  boy,  too,  was 
generally  in  the  room,  not  as  a  waiter,  but  as  a 
kind  of  enfant  de  maison,  who  walked  about  or 
took  post  in  the  chimney  corner  with  his  hat  on, 
and  occasionally  joined  in  the  conversation.  It  is 
probable,  that  but  for  us,  he  would  have  been 
placed  at  the  table  ;  and  that  it  ha/i  been  the  cus- 
tom before  we  came.  Certain  it-  is,  that  the  idea 
of  equality  was  more  fully  and  fairly  acted  upon 
in  this  house  of  a  British  subject,  than  ever  I  have 
seen  it  practised  by  the  most  vehement  declaimers 
for  the  rights  of  man  among  ourselves.  It  is  but 
fair,  however,  to  mention,  that  I  have  never  been 
among  our  transcendent  republicans  of  Virginia, 
and  her  dependencies.  But  notwithstanding  some 
unpleasant  circumstances  in  our  establishment, 
every  member  of  the  family,  the  black  fellow,  to 
whom  we  had  been  the  cause  of  some  privations, 
excepted,  was  exceedingly  courteous  and  accom- 
modating. Rem  Hagerman,  and  Yonichy,  his 
wife,  gave  themselves  no  airs ;  nor  was  our  har- 
mony with  Uncle  Jacob  ever  interrupted,  but  on 
a  single  occasion,  when,  soured  a  little  by  1  know 
not  what  provocation,  he  made  a  show  of  knock- 
ing down  Forrest  with  a  pair  of  yarn  stockings 


he  had  just  drawn  from  his  legs,  as  he  sat  in  the 
chimney-corner  one  evening  preparing  for  bed. 
It  was,  indeed,  but  an  offer,  though  it  might,  for 
aught  I  know,  have  amounted  to  an  assault  in 
law,  as  Jacob  was  not  so  far  from  the  person 
menaced,  but  that  the  feet  of  the  stockings,  if  held 
by  the  other  extremity,  and  projected  from  an 
extended  arm,  might  possibly  have  reached  him  ; 
and  a  pair  of  long-worn  yarn  stockings,  might, 
from  daily  alluvian,  have  acquired  somewhat 
of  the  properties  of  a  cudgel.  But  moments 
of  peevishness  were  allowable  to  our  host ;  since, 
though  we  had  for  some  time  been  consuming 
his  provisions,  he  had  never  seen  a  penny  of  our 
money,  and  it  was  somewhat  doubtful,  to  say  the 
truth,  whether  he  ever  would  ;  for,  considering 
the  contractors  for  our  boarding  liable  for  it,  we 
never  thought  of  paying  it  ourselves.  As  the 
Low  Dutch  are  a  people  little  known  in  Penn- 
svlvama,  and  more  especially,  as  it  is  my  avowed 
intention  to  advert  to  the  character  of  the  time, 
this  sketch  of  their  domestic  economy  and  man- 
ners may  not  be  thought  impertinent.  In  a  word, 
from  what  I  saw  of  them  on  Long  Island,  I  was 
led  to  consider  them  as  people,  quiet  and  inoffen- 
sive beyond  any  I  had  seen  ;  such,  from  whom  no 
enthusiastic  efforts,  either  of  good  or  evil  ten- 
dency, were  to  be  looked  for  ;  who  were  neither 
prolific  of  Catos  nor  Catilines ;  and  who,  had 
they  been  the  sole  occupants  of  this  great  con- 
tinent of  ours,  would  still  have  been  colonists, 
and  never  known  what  it  was  to  be  independent 
republicans.  Their  religions,  like  their  other 
habits,  were  unostentatious  and  plain ;  and  a 
silent  grace  before  meat,  prevailed  at  the  table  of 
Jacob  Suydam.  When  we  were  all  seated,  he 
suddenly  clasped  his  hands  together,  threw  his 
head  on  one  side,  closed  his  eyes,  and  remained 
mute  and  motionless  for  a  minute.  His  niece  and 
nephew  followed  his  example  ;  but  with  such  an 
eager  solicitude  that  the  copied  attitude  should  be 
prompt  and  simultaneous,  as  to  give  an  air  of 
absurdity  to  what  might  otherwise  have  been  very 
decent.  Although  little  of  the  vernacular  accent 
remained  on  the  tongue  of  these  pepple,  they  had 
some  peculiarities  in  other  phraseology.  Among 
these,  instead  of  asking  you  to  sit,  or  sit  down  to 
table,  they  invited  you  to  sit  by  :  and  this  I  even 
observed  in  General  Schuyler,  when  I  was  at  Lake 
George.  It  might  be  asked  by  a  stickling  New- 
Yorker,  if    "sit  by"  is  not  as  proper,  and  even 


(396) 


THE   BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


>;97 


more  so,  than  "sit  down,"  which,  in  strictness,  is 
a  redundancy.  

GEN.  WASHINGTON  AND  AN  AFRICAN 
POETESS. 

IN  176 1  there  was  landed  from  a  slave  ship,  in 
Boston,  a  delicate,  intelligent-looking  African 
girl,  apparently  about  seven  years  of  age. 
Shortly  afterward  she  was  sold  in  the  slave  mar- 
ket at  that  city,  and  was  purchased  by  the  wife  of 
Mr.  John  Wheatley,  who  was  attracted  to  her  by 
her  slender  form  and  delicate  appearance.  She 
became  a  great  favorite  in  the  family,  and  grew 
up  as  a  pet  of  the  household. 

One  of  Mrs.  Wheatley' s  daughters  taught  her 
to  read  and  write,  and  it  is  said  that  in  sixteen 
months  from  the  time  of  her  arrival  she  had  ac- 
quired the  English  language,  to  which  she  was 
previously  an  utter  stranger,  to  such  an  extent 
that  she  could  read  the  most  difficult  portions  of 
the  Bible  with  a  fluency  that  astonished  all  who 
heard  her.  She  commenced  writing  verses  at  the 
age  of  fourteen,  and  at  nineteen  visited  England, 
where  she  attracted  much  attention,  and  was  re- 
ceived by  many  distinguished  people.  A  volume 
of  her  poems  was  published  in  Eondon  in  1773, 
with  a  dedication  to  the  Right  Honorable  the 
Countess  of  Huntingdon,  bearing  the  following 
title:  "Poems  on  Various  Subjects,  Religious 
and  Moral.  By  Phillis  Wheatley,  Negro  Servant 
to  Mr.  John  Wheatley,  of  Boston,  in  New  Eng- 
land. ' '  Several  other  editions  of  her  poems  and 
letters  were  subsequently  published  at  different 
dates  in  Boston. 

In  1775  she  wrote  a  poem  on  Gen.  Washington, 
and  sent  him  a  copy,  accompanied  by  the  follow- 
ing letter : 

Sir  : — I  have  taken  the  freedom  to  address  your 
Excellency  in  the  enclosed  Poem,  and  entreat 
your  acceptance,  though  I  am  not  insensible  of 
its  inaccuracies.  Your  being  appointed  by  the 
Grand  Continental  Congress  to  be  Generalissimo 
of  the  armies  of  North  America,  together  with 
the  fame  of  your  virtues,  excite  sensations  not 
easy  to  suppress.  Your  generosity,  therefore, 
I  presume,  will  pardon  the  attempt.  Wishing 
your  Excellency  all  possible  success  in  the  great 
cause  you  are  so  generously  engaged  in,  I  am 
Your  Excellency's  most  obedient 

f>_!inbie  servant, 

Phillis  Wheatley. 
^findence,  Oct.  26,  1775. 


THE  POEM. 
/"TELESTIAL  choir  !  enthron'd  in  realms  of  light, 
l/j     Columbia's  scenes  of  glorious  toils  I  write, 

*^     While  freedom's  cause  her  anxious  breast  alarms, 
She  flashes  dreadful  in  refulgent  arms. 
See  mother  earth  her  offspring's  fate  bemoan, 
And  nations  gaze  at  scenes  before  unknown  ! 
See  the  bright  beams  of  heaven's  revolving  light 
Involved  in  sorrows  and  the  veil  of  night  ! 

The  goddess  comes,  she  moves  divinely  fair 
Olive  and  laurel  binds  her  golden  hair  : 
Wherever  shines  this  native  of  the  skies, 
Unnumber'd  charms  and  recent  graces  rise. 

Muse  !  bow  propitious  while  my  pen  relates 
How  pour  her  armies  through  a  thousand  gates, 
As  when  Eolus  heaven's  fair  face  deforms, 
Enwrapp'd  in  tempest  and  a  night  of  storms  ; 
Astonish'd  ocean  feels  the  wild  uproar, 
The  refluent  surges  beat  the  sounding  shore  ; 
Or  thick  as  leaves  in  Autumn's  golden  reign, 
Such,  and  so  many,  moves  the  warrior's  train. 
In  bright  array  they  seek  the  work  of  war, 
Where  high  unfurl'd  the  ensign  waves  in  air. 
Shall  I  to  Washington  their  praise  recite  ? 
Enough  thou  know'st  them  in  the  fields  of  fight. 
Thee,  first  in  place  and  honours, — we  demand 
The  grace  and  glory  of  thy  martial  band. 
Fam'd  for  thy  valour,  for  thy  virtues  more, 
Hear  every  tongue  thy  guardian  aid  implore  ! 

One  century  scarce  perform'd  its  destined  round 
When  Gallic  powers  Columbia's  fury  found : 
And  so  may  you,  whoever  dares  disgrace 
The  land  of  freedom's  heaven-defended  race  ! 
Fix'd  are  the  eyes  of  nations  on  the  scales, 
For  in  their  hopes  Columbia's  arm  prevails. 
Anon  Britannia  droops  the  pensive  head, 
While  round  increase  the  rising  hills  of  dead. 
Ah  !  cruel  blindness  to  Columbia's  state  ! 
Lament  thy  thirst  of  boundless  power  too  late. 

Proceed,  great  chief,  with  virtue  on  thy  side. 
Thy  ev'ry  action  let  the  goddess  guide. 
A  crown,  a  mansion,  and  a  throne  that  shine, 
With  gold  unfading,  Washington  !  be  thine. 

Washington  replied  in  the  following  letter  : 
Cambridge,  February  2d,  1776. 

Miss  Phillis  : 

Your  favor  of  the  26th  October  did  not  reach 
my  hands  till  the  middle  of  December.  Time 
enough,  you  will  say,  to  have  given  an  answer  ere 
this.  Granted.  But  a  variety  of  important  oc- 
currences continually  interposing  to  distract  the 
mind  and  withdraw  the  attention,  I  hope  will 
apologize  for  the  delay,  and  plead  my  excuse  for 
the  seeming  and  not  real  neglect.  I  thank  you 
most  sincerely  lor  your  polite  notice  of  me,  in  the 
elegant  lines  you  enclosed  ;  and  however  undeserv- 
ing I  may  be  of  such  encomium  and  panegyric. . 


SdS 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


the  style  and  manner  exhibit  a  striking  proof  of 
your  poetical  talents  ;  in  honour  of  which,  and  as 
a  tribute  justly  due  to  you,  I  would  .have  pub- 
lished the  poem  had  I  not  been  apprehensive  that, 
while  I  only  meant  to  give  the  world  this  new  in- 
stance of  your  genius,  I  might  have  incurred  the 
imputation  of  vanity.  This,  and  nothing  else, 
determined  me  not  to  give  it  place  in  the  public 
prints.  If  you  should  ever  come  to  Cambridge, 
or  near  headquarters,  I  shall  be  happy  to  see  a 
person  so  favoured  by  the  muses,  and  to  whom 
Nature  has  been  so  liberal  and  beneficent  in  her 
dispensations.  I  am,  with  great  respect,  your 
obedient  humble  servant, 

George  Washington. 

On  her  return  from  England,  after  the  publica- 
tion of  her  poems,  the  Wheatley  family  was 
broken  up  by  death,  and  Phillis  married  a  colored 
man,  who  seems  to  have  been  a  show}'  fellow, 
passing,  according  to  one  account,  as  a  lawyer, 
another  as  a  grocer,  and  a  third  a  barber.  He 
fell  into  poverty  during  the  Revolution,  and  his 
wife  suffered  with  him  till  she  died  in  Boston,  Dec. 
5,  17S4.  It  was  one  thing  dreaming  with  Ovid, 
and  another  living  with  ' '  Doctor  Peters. ' ' 

The  only  recollection  which  she  retained  of  her 
life  in  Africa  was  a  poetical  reminiscence  of  her 
mother  pouring  out  water  before  the  sun  at  his 
rising — a  trait  of  natural  devotion  in  a  heathen 
land.  When  she  wras  sixteen,  in  1770,  Phillis 
became  a  member  of  Dr.  Sewall's  congregation  in 
the  Old  South  Meeting  House. 


PUTNAM'S    ADVENTURE    WITH    THE    WOLF. 

IN  our  school  days  the  history  that  we  studied 
gave  a  short  sketch  of  the  life  of  the  famous 
old  hero,  Israel  Putnam  ;  but  it  dismissed  his  ad- 
venture with  the  wolf  by  the  simple  statement 
that  the  story  was  familiar  to  even-  school-boy, 
and  it  was  therefore  unnecessary  to  repeat  it. 
This  was  a  sad  disappointment,  for,  boy-like,  we 
felt  that  the  adventure  with  the  wolf  must  neces- 
sarily be  the  most  interesting  event  in  the  old 
hero's  life.  It  was  years  afterward,  when  we  had 
grown  to  manhood,  before  we  found  a  book  con- 
taining the  wolf  story,  and  then  we  read  it  with 
true  boyish  eagerness.  We  now  give  it  as  it  was 
originally  written  by  David  Humphreys,  the  poet, 
and  biographer  of  Gen.  Putnam,  and  hope  it  will 
be  as  interesting  to  other  boys  as  it  was  to  the 
compiler  of  this  volume  : 


In  the  year  1739,  he  removed  from  Salem  to 
Pomfret,  an  inland  fertile  town  in  Connecticut, 
fort}-  miles  east  of  Hartford.  Having  here  pur- 
chased a  considerable  tract  of  land,  he  applied 
himself  successfully  to  agriculture. 

The  first  years  on  a  new  farm  are  not,  however, 
exempt  from  disasters  and  disappointments,  which 
can  only  be  remedied  by  stubborn  and  patient  in- 
dustry. Our  farmer,  sufficiently  occupied  in  build- 
ing an  house  and  barn,  felling  woods,  making 
fences,  sowing  grain,  planting  orchards,  and  tak- 
ing care  of  his  stock,  had  to  encounter,  in  turn, 
the  calamities  occasioned  by  drought  in  summer, 
blast  in  harvest,  loss  of  cattle  in  winter,  and  the 
desolation  of  his  sheep-fold  by  wolves.  In  one 
night  he  had  seventy  fine  sheep  and  goats  killed, 
besides  many  lambs  and  kids  wounded.  This 
havock  was  committed  by  a  she-wolf,  which,  with 
her  annual  whelps,  had  for  several  years  infested 
the  vicinity.  The  young  were  commonly  de- 
stroyed by  the  vigilance  of  the  hunters,  but  the 
old  one  was  too  sagacious  to  come  within  reach  of 
gun-shot :  upon  being  closely  pursued,  she  would 
generally  fly  to  the  western  woods,  and  return  the 
next  winter  with  another  litter  of  whelps. 

This  wolf  at  length  became  such  an  intolerable 
nuisance  that  Mr.  Putnam  entered  into  a  combina- 
tion with  five  of  his  neighbors  to  hunt  alternately 
until  they  could  destroy  her.  Two,  by  rotation, 
were  to  be  constantly  in  pursuit.  It  was  known 
that,  having  lost  the  toes  from  one  foot  by  a  steel- 
trap,  she  made  one  track  shorter  than  the  other. 
By  this  vestige  the  pursuers  recognized,  in  a  light 
snow,  the  route  of  this  pernicious  animal.  Having 
followed  her  to  Connecticut  river,  and  found  she 
had  turned  back  in  a  direct  course  towards  Pom- 
fret,  they  immediately  returned,  and  by  ten  o'clock 
the  next  morning  the  blood-hounds  had  driven 
her  into  a  den,  about  three  miles  distant  from  the 
house  of  Mr.  Putnam.  The  people  soon  collected 
with  dogs,  guns,  straw,  fire,  and  sulphur,  to  at- 
tack the  common  enemy.  With  this  apparatus, 
several  unsuccessful  efforts  were  made  to  force  her 
from  the  den.  The  hounds  came  back  badly 
wounded,  and  refused  to  return.  The  smoke  of 
blazing  straw  had  no  effect.  Nor  did  the  fumes 
of  burnt  brimstone,  with  which  the  cavern  was 
filled,  compel  her  to  quit  the  retirement.  Wearied 
with  such  fruitless  attempts  (which  had  brought 
the  time  to  ten  o'clock  at  night),  Mr.  Putnam 
tried  once  more   to  make  his  dog  enter,  but  in 


BEAUTIFUL   IX   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


399 


vain.  He  proposed  to  his  negro  man  to  go  down 
into  the  cavern  and  shoot  the  wolf :  the  negro  de- 
clined the  hazardous  service.  Then  it  was  that 
the  master,  angry  at  the  disappointment,  and  de- 
claring that  he  was  ashamed  to  have  a  coward  in 
his  family,  resolved  himself  to  destroy  the  fero- 
cious beast,  lest  she  should  escape  through  some 
unknown  fissure  of  the  rock.  His  neighbors 
strongly  remonstrated  against  the  perilous  enter- 
prise ;  but  he,  knowing  that  wild  animals  were 
intimidated  by  fire,  and  having  provided  several 
strips  of  birch-bark,  the  only  combustible  material 
which  he  could  obtain  that  would  afford  light  in 
this  deep  and  darksome  cave,  prepared  for  his 
descent.  Having,  accordingly,  divested  himself 
of  his  coat  and  waistcoat, 
and  having  a  long  rope 
fastened  round  his  legs,  by 
which  he  might  be  pulled 
back,  at  a  concerted  sig- 
nal, he  entered  head-fore- 
most, with  the  blazing 
torch  in  his  hand. 

The  aperture  of  the  den, 
on  the  east  side  of  a  very 
high  ledge  of  rocks,  is 
about  two  feet  square ; 
from  thence  it  descends 
obliquely  fifteen  feet,  then 
running  horizontally  about 
ten  more,  it  ascends  grad- 
ually sixteen  feet  towards 
its  termination.  The  sides 
of  this  subterraneous  cav- 
ity are  composed  of  smooth  and  solid  rocks, 
which  seem  to  have  been  divided  from  each  other 
by  some  former  earthquake.  The  top  and  bot- 
tom are  also  of  stone,  and  the  entrance,  in  win- 
ter, being  covered  with  ice,  is  exceedingly  slip- 
pery. It  is  in  no  place  high  enough  for  a  man 
to  raise  himself  upright,  nor  in  any  part  more 
than  three  feet  in  width. 

Having  groped  his  passage  to  the  horizontal 
part  of  the  den,  the  most  terrifying  darkness  ap- 
peared in  front  of  the  dim  circle  of  light  afforded 
by  his  torch.  It  was  silent  as  the  house  of  death. 
None  but  monsters  of  the  desert  had  ever  before 
explored  this  solitary  mansion  of  horror.  He, 
cautiously  proceeding  onward,  came  to  the  ascent, 
which  he  slowly  mounted  on  his  hands  and  knees, 
until  he  discovered  the  glaring  eye-balls  of  the 


wolf,  who  was  sitting  at  the  extremity  of  the 
cavern.  Startled  at  the  sight  of  fire,  she  gnashed 
her  teeth,  and  gave  a  sullen  growl.  As  soon  as 
he  had  made  the  necessary  discovery,  he  kicked 
the  rope  as  a  signal  for  pulling  him  out.  The 
people  at  the  mouth  of  the  den,  who  had  listened 
with  painful  anxiety,  hearing  the  growling  of  the 
wolf,  and  supposing  their  friend  to  be  in  the  most 
imminent  danger,  drew  him  forth  with  such 
celerity  that  his  shirt  was  stripped  over  his  head, 
and  his  skin  severely  lacerated.  After  he  had 
adjusted  his  clothes  and  loaded  his  gun  with  nine 
buck-shot,  holding  a  torch  in  one  hand  and  the 
musket  in  the  other,  he  descended  the  second 
time.      When   he    drew  nearer   than   before,   the 


THE 


OLD   WOLF   AND   HER   YOUNG   ONES. 

wolf,  assuming  a  still  more  fierce  and  terrible  ap- 
pearance, howling,  rolling  her  eyes,  snapping  her 
teeth,  and  dropping  her  head  between  her  legs, 
was  evidently  in  the  attitude  and  on  the  point  of 
springing  at  him.  At  the  critical  instant  he 
levelled  and  fired  at  her  head.  Stunned  with  the 
shock,  and  suffocated  with  the  smoke,  he  imme- 
diately found  himself  drawn  out  of  the  cave.  But 
having  refreshed  himself,  and  permitted  the  smoke 
to  dissipate,  he  went  down  the  third  time.  Once 
more  he  came  within  sight  of  the  wolf,  who  ap- 
pearing very  passive,  he  applied  the  torch  to  her 
nose,  and  perceiving  her  dead,  he  took  hold  of  her 
ears,  and  then  kicking  the  rope  (still  tied  round 
his  legs)  the  people  above,  with  no  small  exulta- 
tion, dragged  them  both  out  together. 

I  have  offered  these  tacts  in  greater  detail,  be- 


400 


THE    WONDERFUL,    THE    CURIOUS,    AND   THE 


cause  they  contain  a  display  of  character  ;  and 
because  they  have  been  erroneously  related  in 
several  European  publications,  and  very-  much 
mutilated  in  the  history  of  Connecticut — a  work 
as  replete  with  falsehood  as  destitute  of  genius — 
lately  printed  in  London. 


PUTNAM'S   RIDE. 

GENERAL  ISRAEL  PUTNAM  was  the'ideal 
hero  of  the  Revolutionary  war.  No  adven- 
ture was  too  desperate  for  him  to  undertake.  His 
instant  readiness  on  all  occasions,  the  purity  of 
his  motives,  and  the  sincerity  of  his  patriotism 
won  the  admiration  and  hearty  friendship  of  all 
his  associates,  and  left  him  a  name  that  will 
stand  forever  as  one  of  the  brightest  on  the  pages 
of  American  history.  His  nature  was  rugged  and 
honest.  He  hated  a  mean  action,  and  deceit  was 
a  thing  that  he  could  not  endure.  He  was  an 
unpolished  diamond  of  the  first  water. 

His  letter  to  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  on  a  certain 
historical  occasion,  indicates  the  character  of  the 
■  man.  A  Tory  spy  had  been  arrested  within  his 
lines,  and,  after  a  fair  trial  by  court-martial,  was 
condemned  to  suffer  the  usual  penalty  for  such 
offences.  General  Clinton  claimed  that  the  man 
was  a  British  officer,  and  demanded  that  he  should 
be  treated  as  a  prisoner  of  war.  To  this  demand 
' '  Old  Put ' '  made  the  following  characteristic 
reply,  which,  for  brevity  and  decision,  has  not 
been  surpassed  in  military  annals  : 

"Edmund  Palmer,  an  officer  in  the  enemy's 
service,  was  taken  as  a  spy  lurking  within  our 
lines  ;  he  has  been  tried  as  a  spy,  condemned  as 
a  spy,  and  shall  be  executed  as  a  spy,  and  the 
flag  is  ordered  to  depart  immediately. 

"  Israel  Putnam. 

"P.  S. — He  has  been  accordingly  executed." 

The  grim  humor  of  the  production  is  embraced 
in  the  postscript. 

His  famous  ride  occurred  in  March,  1779  ;  but 
the  bright  colors  in  which  it  was  first  painted  by 
the  earl}'  historians  have  been  somewhat  dimmed 
by  time  and  the  researches  of  later  writers. 
Enough  remains,  however,  to  make  it  a  celebrated 
and  daring  event,  fully  in  keeping  with  the  old 
hero's  reckless  disregard  of  all  personal  danger. 
The  following  is  said  to  be  a  truthful  account  of 
the  adventure : 

Gov.  Tyron,  who  gained  for  himself  an  unenvi- 


able reputation  for  infamy,  and  who  was  also  the 
last  of  the  royal  governors  of  New  York,  marched 
into  Connecticut  at  the  head  of  fifteen  hundred 
British  regulars  and  Hessians,  for  the  purpose  of 
destroying  some  salt  works  belonging  to  the 
Americans  at  Horse-neck,  and  committing  such 
other  exasperating  meanness  as  might  come  in 
their  way.  Putnam  was  stationed  there  at  the 
time,  having  under  his  command  150  raw  and 
ragged  Connecticut  militia  and  two  small  pieces 
of  ancient  cannon,  capable  of  doing  about  as 
much  havoc  at  their  breeches  as  at  their  muzzles. 
But  being  totally  devoid  of  the  sense  of  fear,  as 
well  as  impervious  to  all  ideas  of  the  ludicrous, 
he  drew  up  his  ' '  army  ' '  in  all  the  panoply  and 
dread  aspect  of  fearful  war,  and  coolly  awaited  the 
result.  It  came  a  little  sooner  and  with  more 
vigor  than  the  old  hero  had  counted  upon.  When 
the  British  commander  saw  the  force  that  was 
opposed  to  him,  he  smiled  grimly  and  ordered  a 
company  of  dragoons  to  charge  General  Putnam 
and  his  army  and  "wipe  the  earth  up  with 
them."  The  dragoons  immediately  proceeded  to 
carry  out  the  order,  and  came  down  like  a  whirl- 
wind with  drawn  sabres  in  their  hands.  "Old 
Put  "  managed  to  unload  his  wheezy  cannons,  and 
a  few  of  the  militiamen  also  discharged  their 
flint-lock  fowling-pieces,  before  the  earthquake 
reached  them  ;  then  ordering  his  men  to  take 
refuge  in  a  swamp  that  lay  near  them,  he  put 
spurs  to  his  horse,  and  darting  down  a  steep  and 
rocky  hill-side  made  his  escape.  The  dragoons,  on 
approaching  the  brow  of  the  hill,  did  not  have  the 
courage  to  follow,  but  contented  themselves  by 
firing  their  carbines  over  Putnam's  head. 

The  earlier  accounts  of  this  adventure  declare 
that  the  General  rode  down  a  steep  flight  of  steps 
which  had  been  cut  in  the  rocks  in  the  side  of  a 
hill,  to  accommodate  the  people  who  worshipped 
in  a  country  church  near  by  ;  but  this  statement 
has  been  corrected  by  later  writers.  Mr.  Lossing 
says  :  ' '  That  he  fled  down  a  steep  hill  near  a 
flight  of  steps  that  had  been  formed  for  the  accom- 
modation of  the'neighboring  inhabitants  in  taking 
a  direct  way  to  a  church  on  the  eminence,  there 
can  be  no  doubt  ;  but,  that  he  went  all  the  way 
down  the  steps,  is  a  pure  fiction." 

But  the  fact  remains  undisputed  that  he  did 
ride,  at  full  speed,  down  a  place  so  steep  and 
dangerous  iat  none  of  the  British  soldiers  dared 
to  follow,  although  they  were  close  upon  him; 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


401 


and   the  glory  of  the   achievement  is   therefore 
not  in  the  least  diminished. 


MORAL    EFFECTS    OF    THE    BLACK    PLAGUE 
UPON   EUROPEAN   CIVILIZATION. 

IN  another  portion  of  this  volame  we  have 
given  a  history  of  the  Black  Plague  which 
devastated  Europe  and  Asia  in  the  fourteenth 
century,  and  destroyed  a  larger  number  of  human 
beings  than  any  other  single  cause  since  the  cre- 
ation of  the  world  ;  together  with  an  account  of 
the  remarkable  and  terrific  convulsions  of  the 
earth  which  preceded  and  ushered  in  this  destruc- 
tive pestilence.  We  will  now  consider  its  moral  ef- 
fects, and  the  permanent  influences  which  it  ex- 
erted upon  European  civilization. 

The  mental  shock  sustained  by  all  nations  dur- 
ing the  prevalence  of  the  Black  Death,  as  it  was 
called,  is  without  parallel  and  indescribable.  The 
pious  closed  their  accounts  with  the  world,  and 
prepared  themselves  for  what  they  confidently 
believed  would  be  a  blissful  future.  Death  was 
inevitable,  and  religion  disarmed  it  of  its  sting. 
All  minds  were  directed  to  the  contemplation  of 
futurity ;  and  even  children  were  frequently  seen, 
while  suffering  the  agonies  of  the  plague,  to 
breathe  out  their  spirits  with  prayer  and  songs  of 
thanksgiving.  Parents  warned  their  children, 
and  instructed  them  how  to  pray ;  neighbors  mu- 
tually admonished  each  other,  while  none  could 
reckon  on  a  single  hour's  respite. 

An  awful  sense  of  contrition  seized  Christians 
of  ever}-  communion  ;  they  resolved  to  forsake 
their  vices,  to  make  restitution  for  past  offences, 
and  to  avert  by  self-chastisement,  the  punishment 
which  the)-  imagined  was  due  to  their  past  wick- 
edness. 

The   Flagellants. 

While  all  the  countries  were  filled  with  lamenta- 
tions and  woe,  there  first  arose  in  Hungary,  and 
afterward  in  German}-,  the  brotherhood  of  the 
Flagellants,  called  also  the  Brethren  of  the  Cross, 
or  Crossbearers,  who  took  upon  themselves  the 
repentance  of  the  people,  for  the  sins  they  had  com- 
mitted, and  offered  prayers  and  supplications  for 
the  averting  of  the  plague.  At  first  this  order 
consisted  chiefly  of  the  lower  classes,  who  were 
either  actuated  by  sincere  contrition,  or  who  joy- 
fully availed  themselves  of  this  pretext  for  idle- 
ness, and  were  hurried  along  by  the  tide  of  dis- 
tracting frenzy.  But  as  they  gained  in  repute, 
26 


and  were  welcomed  by  the  people  with  veneration, 
many  nobles  and  ecclesiastics  ranged  themselves 
under  their  standard  ;  and  their  bands  were  not 
infrequently  augmented  by  children,  honorable 
women,  and  nuns,  so  powerfully  were  minds  of 
the  most  opposite  temperaments  enslaved  by  the 
strange  infatuation.  The}-  marched  through  the 
cities  in  well  organized  processions,  with  leaders 
and  singers ;  their  heads  covered  as  far  as  their 
eyes ;  their  gaze  fixed  upon  the  ground,  and  ac- 
companied by  every  token  of  the  deepest  contri- 
tion and  mourning.      They  wore  a  sombre  gar- 


PARENTS   INSTRUCTING   THEIR   CHILDREN    TO  PRAY. 

ment,  with  red  crosses  on  the  breast,  back,  and 
cap ;  and  bore  triple  scourges,  tied  in  three  or  four 
knots,  in  which  points  of  iron  were  fixed  to  ren- 
der them  the  more  severe.  Wherever  they  made 
their  appearance  they  were  welcomed  with  the 
ringing  of  bells,  and  the  people  flocked  from  all 
quarters  to  listen  to  their  hymns  and  witness  their 
penances,  with  devotions  and  tears. 

At  the  city  of  Spires,  in  Germany,  two  hun- 
dred boys,  of  twelve  years  of  age  and  under, 
organized  themselves  into  a  Brotherhood  of 
the  Cross,  in  imitation  of  those  children,  who, 
about  one  hundred  years  before,  at  the  insti- 
gation of  some  fanatic  monks,  had  bound 
themselves  together  for  the  purpose  of  re- 
covering  the  Holy   Sepulchre.     All   the  inhabi- 


402 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


tants  were  carried  away  by  the  illusion  ;  they 
;onducted  the  children  to  their  houses,  with 
songs  of  thanksgiving,  to  regale  them  for  the 
night.  The  women  embroidered  banners  for 
them  ;  and  at  every  succeeding  pilgrimage  their 
influence  and  reputation  increased. 

In  1260  the  Flagellants  appeared  in  Italy  as 
Devoti.  ' '  With  the  land  polluted  by  vices  and 
crimes,"  says  a  writer  of  that  period,  "an  unexam- 
pled spirit  of  remorse  seized  the  minds  of  the  peo- 
ple. The  fear  of  Christ  fell  upon  all — noble  and 
ignoble,  old  and  young,  and  even  children  of  five 
years  of  age,  marched  through  the  streets  with  no 
covering  but  a  scarf  around  the  waist.  Each  car- 
ried a  scourge  of  leather  thongs,  with  which  they 
lashed  their  naked  limbs,  amid  sighs  and  tears, 
until  the  blood  flowed  from  their  wounds.  Xot 
only  during  the  day,  but  even  by  night,  and  in 
the  severest  winter,  they  traversed  the  cities 
with  banners  and  burning  torches,  headed  by 
their  priests,  and  prostrated  themselves  before 
the  altars.  Enemies  were  reconciled  ;  men  and 
women  vied  with  each  other  in  splendid  works  of 
charity,  as  if  they  would  propitiate  the  Divine 
wrath  which  threatened  them  with  annihilation. 
The  impression  which  this  singular  fanaticism 
made  upon  the  minds  of  the  people  was  astonish- 
ing. In  1446  a  citizen  of  Xordhausen,  testified 
that  his  wife,  in  the  belief  of  performing  a  Chris- 
tian act,  insisted  upon  scourging  her  infant  chil- 
dren as  soon  as  the}*  were  baptized. 

Pilgrimages  of  the  Flagellants  extended  through 
all  the  countries  of  Europe.  The  mania  seemed 
to  arise  in  many  places  at  the  same  time,  for  the 
terror  of  death,  which  prevailed  over  all  nations, 
apparently  conjured  up  a  universal  fanaticism  of 
exaggerated  repentance.  It  did  uot  cease  for  sev- 
eral centuries  ;  in  the  15th  century  the  Flagellants 
were  so  numerous  in  several  parts  of  Germany 
that  it  was  deemed  necessary  to  extirpate  them 
with  fire  and  sword  ;  and  as  late  as  17 10  their 
processions  were  seen  in  Italy,  and  even  at  a  later 
date  in  Mexico  and  portions  of  Spain. 

Each  applicant  ior  membership  in  the  Brother- 
hood was  required  to  obligate  himself  to  remain 
with  it  not  less  than  thirty-four  days,  and  to  come 
supplied  with  an  average  of  four-pence  per  day, 
so  that  he  might  not  be  a  burden  to  any  one  ;  if 
married,  he  was  obliged  to  have  the  sanction  of 
his  wife,  and  give  assurance  that  he  was  reconciled 
to  all  men.     They  were  not  permitted  to  seek  for 


free  lodgings,  or  even  to  enter  a  house,  without 
having  been  invited  ;  the)'  were  forbidden  to  con- 
verse with  women  ;  and  if  they  transgressed  any 
of  these  rules,  they  were  obliged  to  confess  to  the 
Superior,  who  sentenced  them  to  a  certain  num- 
ber of  lashes,  according  to  the  degree  of  the 
offence. 

Penances  were  performed  twice  a  day,  in  the 
morning  and  evening.  They  went  in  pairs,  sing- 
ing psalms,  amid  the  ringing  of  bells  ;  and  on 
arriving  at  the  place  of  flagellation,  they  stripped 
the  upper  part  of  their  bodies  and  put  off  their 
shoes,  retaining  only  a  linen  covering,  reaching 
from  the  waist  to  the  ankles.  They  then  lay 
down  in  a  circle,  in  positions  varying  according 
to  the  nature  of  their  offences  ;  the  adulterer  with 
his  face  to  the  ground,  the  perjurer  on  his  side, 
holding  up  three  fingers,  &c,  and  they  were  then 
castigated,  some  more,  some  less,  by  the  master, 
after  which  he  bade  them  rise  in  the  prescribed 
form  : 

"Stant  ouf  durch  der  reinen  Martel  ere  ; 

Und  hute  dich  vor  der  Sunden  mere." 

Then  the}-  scourged  themselves,  amid  the  sing- 
ing of  psalms  and  loud  supplications  for  the 
averting  of  the  plague,  at  the  same  time  con- 
stantly asserting  that  the  blood  of  their  wounds 
was  mingled  with  that  of  the  Saviour.  In  con- 
clusion, one  of  them  stood  up  and  read  a  letter, 
which  it  was  pretended  an  angel  had  brought 
from  Heaven,  to  St.  Peter's  Church,  at  Jerusalem, 
stating  that  Christ,  who  was  sore  displeased  at  the 
sins  of  man,  had  granted,  on  the  intercession  of 
the  Virgin  and  all  the  angels,  that  all  who  should 
wander  about  and  scourge  themselves  for  thirty- 
four  days  should  be  partakers  of  the  divine 
grace.  If  an}-  were  so  bold  as  to  question  the 
authority  of  this  letter,  they  were  quickly  silenced 
by  the  assertion  that  it  came  from  the  same  per- 
son who  had  sealed  the  Gospel,  a  quality  of  evi- 
dence equally  as  convincing  as  that  upon  which 
many  other  religious  dogmas  have  been  founded. 

The  Flagellants  occasionally  attempted  to 
work  miracles,  a  common  practice  among  all 
religionists  in  those  times  of  dense  ignorance  and 
superstition.  The  miracle,  instead  of  being  re- 
garded in  its  true  light  as  a  deception  and  a  fraud, 
was  the  universally  accepted  evidence  of  divine 
origin.  In  Strasburg  they  even  went  so  far  as  to 
attempt  to  resurrect  a  dead  child  ;  but  failing, 
their  unskilfulness  did  them  much  harm.     They 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


4m 


preserved  their  reputation,  however,  and  sus- 
tained the  public  confidence  in  their  holy  calling, 
by  pretending  to  cast  out  devils.  This  has  always 
been  the  last  refuge  of  the  miracle-worker  in  all 
nations  and  all  ages — when  he  fails  in  everything 
else,  he  is  sure  of  being  able  to  frighten  the  devil, 
and  thus  restore  confidence  in  his  miraculous 
powers. 

But  the  Flagellants  finally  ceased  to  excite 
astonishment.  They  were  no  longer  welcomed 
by  the  ringing  of  bells,  and  were  not  received 
with  veneration,  as  before.  In  October,  1349, 
Pope  Clement  issued  a  bull  against  them,  and  they 
gradually  disappeared,  as  human  inventions  are 
wont  to  do.  At  Breslau  one  of  their  masters 
was  condemned  and  publicly 
burnt  as  a  heretic.  In  West- 
phalia, where  so  shortly  be- 
fore they  had  venerated  the 
Brothers  of  the  Cross,  they 
now  persecuted  them  with 
relentless  severity ;  and  in 
many  other  countries  they 
were  pursued  as  if  they  had 
been  the  authors  of  every 
misfortune.  A  belief  began 
to  prevail,  with  a  good  de- 
gree of  plausibility,  that  they 
promoted  the  spread  of  the 
plague,  by  means  of  their  nu- 
merous pilgrimages  ;  and  this 
was  no  doubt  the  true  cause 
of  the  persecutions  that  arose 
against  them. 

Barbarous  Cruelties  Practised 
against  the  Jews. 

The  horrors  of  the  perse- 
cutions of  the  Jews,  which  followed  the  advent 
of  the  Black  Death,  and  resulted  in  a  great 
measure  from  it,  exceeded  anything  ever  known 
in  the  history  of  the  world.  The  exasperation  of 
the  people  against  them  was  greater  even  than  in 
the  1 2th  century,  during  the  first  Crusades. 

In  every  destructive  pestilence  of  ancient  times, 
the  common  people  at  first  attributed  the  mor- 
tality to  poison.  No  explanation  or  instruction 
could  avail  to  change  their  opinion  ;  the  supposed 
testimony  of  their  eyesight  was  to  them  a  suffi- 
cient proof,  and  they  demanded  the  victims  of 
their  rage.  The  Jews  were  everywhere  accused 
of  poisoning  the  wells  or  infecting  the  air.     They 


alone  were  supposed  to  be  responsible  for  the  fear- 
ful mortality  among  the  Christians  ;  and  strangely 
enough,  they  did  not  suffer  so  severely  from  tiie 
effects  of  the  pestilence  as  their  Christian  neigh- 
bors. They  were  in  consequence  pursued  with 
merciless  cruelty,  and  either  indiscriminately  given 
up  to  the  fury  of  the  populace,  or  sentenced  to 
sanguinary  tribunals,  which,  with  all  the  forms 
of  law,  sentenced  them  to  be  burnt  alive. 

The  persecutions  of  the  Jews  commenced  in 
September  and  October,  1348,  at  Chillon,  on  hake 
Geneva,  where  the  first  criminal  proceedings  were 
instituted  against  them,  after  they  had  long  before 
been  accused  by  the  people  of  poisoning  the  wells. 
Similar  scenes  soon  followed  in  many  other  places. 


PERSECUTIONS   OF  THE  JEWS. 

Under  the  influence  of  excruciating  suffering,  the 
tortured  Jews  in  many  instances  confessed  them- 
selves guilty  of  the  crimes  imputed  to  them  ;  and 
it  being  affirmed  that  poison  had  in  fact  been  dis- 
covered in  a  well  at  Zoffinger,  this  was  deemed 
sufficient  proof  of  their  guilt  in  general. 

A  fearful  panic  immediately  seized  all  nations  ; 
and  in  German}'  especially  the  springs  and  wells 
were  built  over,  that  no  one  might  drink  of  them, 
or  use  the  water  for  culinary  purposes,  and  for  a 
long  time  the  inhabitants  of  numerous  towns  and 
villages  used  only  river  and  rain  water.  If  medi- 
cine or  any  other  article  which  might  be  supposed 
to  be  poisonous,  was  found  in  the  possession  of  a 


404 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


stranger,  which  might  very  naturally  occur  in  the 
most  innocent  manner,  owing  to  the  prevailing 
sickness  which  caused  nearly  every  person  to  go 
prepared  with  the  necessary  remedies,  they  were 
forced  to  swallow  a  portion  of  it.  All  classes  of 
the  inhabitants  bound  themselves  by  oaths  to  ex- 
tirpate the  Jews  by  fire  and  sword,  and  they  were 
accordingly  hunted  like  wild  beasts  and  slaugh- 
tered in  the  most  cruel  manner.      In   the  town  of 


A  JEWESS    BEING    LED    TO   THE   STAKI 

Basle  the  populace  forced  their  magistrates  to 
bind  themselves  by  an  oath  to  burn  the  Jews,  and 
to  forbid  persons  of  that  race  to  enter  their 
city  for  the  space  of  two  hundred  years.  Upon 
this  all  the  Jews  in  Basle  were  driven  into  a 
wooden  building,  prepared  for  that  purpose,  and 
burnt  with  it  Soon  afterward  a  like  horrible 
deed  was  perpetrated  at  Freyburg  ;  and  similar 
scenes  were  enacted  at  Strasburg  and  other  places. 


Wherever  the  Jews  were  not  burned,  the}-  were 
at  least  banished  ;  and  being  thus  compelled  to 
wander  about,  they  fell  into  the  merciless  hands  of 
the  country  people,  who  slew  them  without  re- 
morse or  pity,  their  fury-  being  increased  by  the 
dread  of  these  detested  strangers  spreading  the 
pestilence  among  them.  The  Jewish  inhabitants 
of  Spires,  driven  to  despair,  assembled  in  theii 
own  houses,  which  they  set  on  fire,  and  thus  con- 
sumed  themselves  with  their 
families.  The  few  who  re- 
mained were  forced  to  sub- 
mit to  baptism  ;  while  the 
dead  bodies  of  many  who  had 
been  murdered,  and  lay  about 
the  streets,  were  put  into 
empty  wine-casks  and  rolled 
into  the  Rhine,  lest  they 
should  infect  the  air.  At 
Strasburg  two  thousand  Jews 
were  burned  alive  in  their  own 
burying  ground,  on  a  scaffold 
erected  for  that  purpose  ;  a  few 
who  promised  to  embrace 
Christianity,  were  spared,  and 
their  children  taken  from  the 
burning  pile.  The  youth  and 
beauty  of  several  girls  also 
excited  commiseration,  and 
they  were  rescued  against 
their  will  ;  but  man}'  who 
forcibly  made  their  escape 
from  the  flames  were  mur- 
dered in  the  streets. 

The  Jews  of  that  age  were 
the  bankers  and  money-lend- 
ers for  all  the  nations  where 
they  lived,  and  a  large  ma- 
jority of  the  people  were  in 
debt  to  them.  The  magistrates 
took  advantage  of  this  con- 
dition of  affairs  to  declare  all 
pledges  and  bonds  forfeited,  and  directed  that  the 
money  should  be  divided  among  the  work-people. 
Many  wealth}-  Jews,  on  their  way  to  the  stake, 
wrere  stripped  of  their  clothes  by  the  avaricious 
and  barbarous  mob,  for  the  sake  of  the  jewels 
and  gold  that  were  frequently  found  sewed  in 
the  linings. 

Much  of  this  wealth,  obtained   by  murder  and 
robber}-,  was  presented    to  the  monasteries    and 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


405 


churches,  the  superstitious  devotees  imagining 
that  these  goods,  reeking  with  the  blood  of  inno- 
cent and  helpless  victims,  would  be  an  accept- 
able offering  to  Heaven,  and  serve  as  an  atone- 
ment for  the  blackest  of  crimes.  The)-  even  took 
the  bricks  from  the  de- 
stroyed dwellings  of  the 
Jews,  and  the  tombstones 
from  their  graves,  and 
with  them  built  churches 
and  erected  altars. 

In  Mayence,  Germain-, 
more  than  12,000  Jews 
were  burned  at  the  stake 
or  murdered  in  the  streets. 
The  Flagellants  had  en- 
tered the  place,  stirred  up 
the  worst  prejudices  of  the 
people,  and  aroused  them 
to  a  frenzy  of  supersti- 
tious zeal.  They  rushed 
at  once  to  the  quarters 
occupied  by  the  Jews  and 
began  an  indiscriminate 
slaughter  ;  but  in  this  in- 
stance the  victims  resisted, 
and  several  Christians  (so- 
called  by  way  of  distinc- 
tion) were  killed.  This 
increased  their  frenzy  un- 
til it  passed  beyond  the 
limits  of  control,  and  the 
Jews,  finding  themselves 
no  longer  able  to  resist, 
set  their  dwellings  on  fire 
and  voluntarily  made  a 
holocaust  of  themselves 
and  their  families.  A  free 
rein  was  given  to  the  spirit 
of  proselytism,  under  the 
influence  of  the  Flagel- 
lants, and  in  consequence 
a  counter-spirit  of  fanatical 
zeal  arose  among  the  Jews 
to   perish    as   martyrs    to 

their  ancient  religion.  Seeing  that  death  by 
torture  was  inevitable,  the)-  made  no  effort  to 
evade  it,  but  rather  courted  it  as  a  sure 
means  of  immediate  admission  into  the  heaven 
of  their  fathers.  Their  repugnance  to  Christi- 
anity  was   naturally   increased  by  the   outrage- 


ous violation  of  all  its  precepts  on  the  part  of 
those  professing  to  be  its  followers.  At  Islingen 
the  whole  Jewish  population  gathered  in  their 
synagogue  and  burned  themselves  amid  songs 
and    shouts    of  religious    exaltation.      At  other 


DESTRUCTION    OF  THE  JEWS. 

places  mothers  were  often  seen  throwing  their 
children  on  the  burning  pile  to  prevent  them 
from  receiving  Christian  baptism,  and  then  pre- 
cipitating themselves  into  the  flames.  The  few 
who  saved  their  lives  by  renouncing  their  faith 
and    receiving    baptism,    were    afterward    nearly 


406    THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


all  burnt  at  different  times.  Christians  also, 
who,  through  compassion  or  offers  of  gain,  had 
endeavored  to  protect  them,  were  put  to  the 
rack  and  executed  with  those  whom  the}-  had 
tried  to  save. 

But  in  the  midst  of  this  wild  and  reckless 
slaughter  of  a  helpless  and  unoffending  people, 
let  it  be  said  to  the  honor  of  Pope  Clement  VI., 
that  he  did  all  that  lay  within  his  power  to  curb 
the  passions  of  the  fanatical  populace,  and  re- 
strain their  bloody  propensities.  He  not  only  pro- 
tected the  Jews  who  dwelt  at  Avignon,  at  that 
time  the  capital  of  the  popes,  but  he  also  issued 
two  general  bulls  in  which  he  declared  them  inno- 
cent, and  admonished  Christians  everywhere 
to  cease  their  groundless  and  cruel  persecu- 
tions. But  his  advice  was  unheeded.  Duke 
Albert  of  Austria  went  further  than  the  Pope, 
for,  after  having  warned  his  people  against 
their  persecutions  of  the  Jews,  he  burned  and 
pillaged  those  cities  which  did  not  heed  the 
warning  ;  but  he  was  unable,  in  his  own  fortress 
or  Kyberg,  to  protect  some  hundreds  of  Jews, 
whom  he  had  received  there,  from  being  barbar- 
ously burnt  by  his  own  people.  Several  other 
princes  and  lords,  among  whom  was  Rupert  von 
der  Pfalz,  took  the  Jews  under  their  protection, 
on  payment  of  large  sums  of  money,  in  conse- 
quence of  which  the  opprobrious  epithet  of  "Jews- 
Masters"  was  bestowed  upon  them,  and  it  re- 
quired the  utmost  efforts  of  themselves  and  their 
faithful  adherents  to  protect  them  against  the 
fury  of  the  populace. 

The  general  discord  and  frenzy  were  greatly 
fomented  by  reports  circulated  through  all 
Europe,  that  the  Jews  were  working  in  concert 
with  secret  superiors  in  Toledo,  to  whose  decrees 
the}'  were  subject,  and  from  whom  they  had  re- 
ceived commands  to  coin  base  money,  poison  the 
wells  and  springs,  and  destroy  the  children  of 
Christian  parents.  These  reports  stated  that 
they  received  the  poison  by  sea,  from  distant 
places,  and  also  prepared  it  themselves  from 
spiders  and  venomous  reptiles;  but,  in  order  that 
their  secret  might  not  be  discovered,  it  was 
known  only  to  their  rabbis  and  principal  men. 
It  is  no  wonder  that  such  statements  aroused  the 
worst  passions  of  an  ignorant  and  superstitious 
populace,  accustomed  to  believe  in  the  marvel- 
lous, and  being  then  only  in  the  transition  state 
from    barbarism   to   semi-civilization.       Some   of 


the  Jews,  having  been  put  to  the  rack,  and  in 
order  to  escape  its  tortures,  confessed  to  having 
received  poisonous  powders  in  bags,  with  secret 
injunctions  from  Toledo  concerning  their  use. 
Such  bags  were  occasionally  actually  found  in 
wells,  though  subsequent  investigations  proved 
that  they  had,  in  many  instances,  been  thrown 
there  by  the  persons  who  had  taken  a  prominent 
part  in  the  persecutions  of  the  Jews,  doubtless 
with  the  double  purpose  of  sustaining  their  repu- 
tation for  veracity  and  to  give  occasion  for  mur- 
der and  pillage  ;  similar  instances  of  which  may 
be  found  in  the  subsequent  persecutions  of 
witches,  recorded  elsewhere  in  this  volume. 

Many  Christians  were  actually  punished  with 
the  Jews  for  the  supposed  crime  of  poisoning  the 
wells  and  springs.  In  this  connection  we  quote 
a  portion  of  the  evidence  given  before  an  Inqui- 
sition held  in  the  city  of  Chillon  in  1348  : 

' '  I  must  add  that  all  the  Jews  of  Neustadt  were 
burnt  according  to  the  just  sentence  of  the  law. 
At  Augst,  I  was  present  when  three  Christians 
were  flayed  on  account  of  being  accessory  to  the 
plot  of  poisoning.  Ve'ry  many  Christians  were 
arrested  for  this  crime  in  various  places  in  this 
country,  especially  at  Evian,  Gebenne,  Krusilien 
and  Hochstett,  who,  at  last,  and  in  their  dying 
moments,  were  brought  to  confess  and  acknowl- 
edge that  they  had  received  the  poison  from  the. 
Jews.  Of  these  Christians  some  have  been  quar- 
tered ;  others  flayed  and  afterwards  hanged.  Cer- 
tain commissioners  have  been  appointed  by  the 
magistrates  to  enforce  judgment  against  all  Jews  ; 
and  I  believe  that  none  will  escape. ' ' 

The  cool  and  matter-of-course  way  in  which 
this  witness  relates  these  barbarities  shows  very 
clearly  that  they  were  common  practices  of  those 
times,  and  were  not  regarded  as  being  in  the  least 
reprehensible.  It  was,  in  short,  an  every-day  affair 
to  skin  or  quarter  a  live  man  for  some  trivial 
offence,  and  hang  him  afterward. 

The  condition  of  society  at  that  time  is  fearful 
to  contemplate.  The  ravages  of  the  pestilence 
had  destroyed  all  the  ties  of  friendship  and  con- 
sanguinity, and  the  naturally  vicious  dispositions 
of  the  people  were  greatly  intensified  by  ex 
aggerated  stories  and  marvellous  rumors,  as  well 
as  by  the  horrors  which  death  everywhere  spread 
before  them.  A  careful  observer  of  those  times 
has  left  a  curious  record  in  the  following  lan- 
guage : 


U°7) 


4U5   THE    WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE    BEAUTIFUL. 


' '  The  hearts  of  all  the  inhabitants  were  closed 
to  feelings  of  humanity.  They  fled  from  the  sick 
and  all  that  belonged  to  them,  hoping  thereby  to 
save  themselves.  Others  shut  themselves  up  in 
their  houses,  with  their  wives,  their  children,  and 
their  goods,  living  on  the  most  costly  food,  but 
carefully  avoiding  all  excess.  None  were  allowed 
access  to  them  ;  no  intelligence  of  sickness  or 
death  was  permitted  to  reach  their  ears  ;  and  they 
spent  their  time  in  singing  and  music,  and  other 


Others,  in  their  mode  of  living,  chose  a  middle 
course  ;  the}-  ate  and  drank  what  they  pleased, 
and  walked  abroad,  carrying  odoriferous  flowers, 
herbs,  or  spices,  inhaling  their  perfumes  from 
time  to  time,  in  order  to  invigorate  the  brain,  and 
to  avert  the  baneful  influence  of  the  air,  infected 
by  the  sick  and  the  innumerable  corpses  of  those 
who  had  died  of  the  plague. 

Others,  unnerved  and  crazed  with  fear,  fled 
from  the  infected  districts,  parents  deserting  their 


DESTRUCTION  OF  THE  JEWS. — (Copy  of  an  ancient  engraving.) 

pastimes.     Others,    on    the   contrary,    considered      children,  and  children  their  parents,  to  die  at  last 

in  some  lonely  place,   unattended  and  helpless ; 


eating  and  drinking  to  excess,  amusements  of  all 
descriptions,  the  indulgence  of  even-  gratification, 
and  an  indifference  to  what  was  passing  around 
them,  as  the  best  medicine,  and  acted  accordingly. 
They  wandered,  day  and  night,  from  one  tavern 
to  another,  and  feasted  without  moderation  or 
bounds.  In  this  way  they  endeavored  to  avoid 
all  contact  with  the  sick,  and  abandoned  their 
houses  and  property  to  chance,  like  men  whose, 
death-knell  had  already  tolled. ' ' 


for  the  pestilence  followed  them  wherever  they 
went. 

Propriety  and  decorum  were  extinguished 
among  the  sick.  Women  of  rank  and  refine- 
ment forgot  their  native  modesty,  and  com- 
mitted the  care  of  their  persons,  indiscriminately, 
to  men  and  women  of  the  lowest  orders,  for 
these,  through  greed,  were  the  only  ones  who 
could  be  hired  to  nurse  the  sick,  and  they  fre- 


HORRORS   OF   THE   RELIGIOUS   WARS    IN   EUROPE. 


(409) 


410 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


quently  increased  their  emoluments  by  robbing 
the  dead. 

Frivolity,  indifference  and  mirth  took  the  place 
of  sorrow,  this  course  being  considered,  especially 
by  the  women,  as  conducive  to  health.  Survivors, 
to  preserve  themselves  from  infection,  generally 
had  the  bodies  taken  out  of  the  house  as  soon  as 
the  breath  had  departed,  and  laid  before  the  doors, 
where  the  morning  found  them  in  heaps,  exposed 
to  the  affrighted  view  of  passers  by.  Many  died 
in  the  streets  :  while  the  stench  of  putrefying 
corpses  was  often  the  first  intimation  to  the  neigh- 
bors that  an  entire  family  had  been  stricken  in 
their  home. 

Quarantine  laws  of  the  most  exacting  and  bar- 
barous character  were  enacted  in  man}-  places. 
One  of  these,  which  is  a  fair  sample  of  the  rest, 
required  that  ' '  even-  plague  patient  shall  be 
taken  out  of  the  city  into  the  fields,  there  to  die  or  to 
recover.  Those  who  attend  upon  a  plague-patient 
shall  remain  apart  for  ten  days,  before  they  again 
associate  with  anybody.  The  priests  shall  exam- 
ine the  diseased,  and  point  them  out  to  special 
commissioners,  under  penalty  of  a  confisca- 
tion of  their  goods  and  of  being  burned  alive. 
Whoever  shall  import  the  plague  into  a  com- 
munity not  previously  infected,  shall  have  all  his 
goods  confiscated  ;  and  none  shall  attend  upon 
plague-patients  except  those  appointed  for  that 
purpose,  on  pain  of  death  and  confiscation." 

Virtue  seemed  to  be  driven  from  the  earth  by 
the  horrors  of  the  scene,  and  wickedness,  cruelty 
and  rapacity  everywhere  reared  their  hideous 
heads,  infecting  the  morals  of  succeeding  genera- 
tions, and  driving  the  Christian  world  into  that 
state  of  religious  insanity  and  intolerance  which 
prevailed  for  nearly  three  centuries. 

Remarkable  Document  Issued  by  the  College  of  Physi- 
cians of  Paris,  during  the  Prevalence  of  the  Black 
Death. 

The  medical  faculty  of  Paris,  the  most  cele- 
brated of  the  fourteenth  century,  were  commis- 
sioned to  deliver  their  opinion  on  the  causes  of 
the  pestilence,  together  with  some  appropriate 
regulations  as  to  the  proper  mode  of  living  during 
its  prevalence. 

We  quote  this  document  entire,  both  on  account 
of  its  singularity,  and  to  show  the  condition  of 
medical  science  at  that  time  : 

"  We,  the  members  of  the  College  of  Physi- 
cians, of  Paris,  have,  after  mature  consideration 


and  consultation  on  the  present  mortality,  col- 
lected the  advice  of  our  old  masters  in  the  art, 
and  intend  to  make  known  the  causes  of  this 
pestilence,  more  clearly  than  could  be  done  ac- 
cording to  the  rules  and  principles  of  astrology 
and  natural  science,;  we,  therefore,  declare  as 
follows ; — 

"  It  is  known  that  in  India  and  the  vicinity  of 
the  Great  Sea,  the  constellations  which  combated 
the  rays  of  the  sun,  and  the  warmth  of  the  heav- 
enly fire,  exerted  their  power  especially  against 
that  sea,  and  struggled  violently  with  its  waters. 
Hence,  vapors  often  originate  which  envelop 
the  sun,  and  convert  his  light  into  darkness. 
These  vapors  alternately  rose  and  fell  for  twenty- 
eight  days ;  but  at  last,  sun  and  fire  acted  so 
powerfully  upon  the  sea,  that  they  attracted  a 
great  portion  of  it  to  themselves,  and  the  waters 
of  the  ocean  arose  in  the  form  of  vapor ;  thereby 
the  waters  were  in  some  parts  so  corrupted  that 
tl;e  fish  which  they  contained,  died.  These  cor- 
rupted waters,  however,  the  heat  of  the  sun  could 
not  consume,  neither  could  other  wholesome  wa- 
ter, hail  or  snow,  and  dew,  originate  therefrom. 
On  the  contrary,  this  vapor  spread  itself  through 
the  air  in  many  places  on  the  earth,  and  envel- 
oped them  in  fog. 

"Such  was  the  case  all  over  Arabia,  in  a  part 
of  India,  in  Crete,  in  the  plains  and  valleys  of 
Macedonia,  in  Hungary,  Albania  and  Sicily. 
Should  the  same  thing  occur  in  Sardinia,  not  a 
man  will  be  left  alive  ;  and  the  like  will  continue 
so  long  as  the  sun  remains  in  the  sign  of  Leo,  on 
all  the  islands  and  adjoining  countries  to  which 
this  corrupted  sea-wind  extends,  or  has  alread}r 
extended  from  India.  If  the  inhabitants  of  those 
parts  do  not  employ  and  adhere  to  the  following, 
or  similar,  means  and  precepts,  we  announce  to 
them  inevitable  death — except  the  grace  of  Christ 
preserve  their  lives. 

"We  are  of  opinion,  that  the  constellations, 
with  the  aid  of  nature,  strive,  by  virtue  of  their 
divine  might,  to  protect  and  heal  the  human  race  ; 
and  to  this  end,  in  union  with  the  rays  of  the  sun, 
acting  through  the  power  of  fire,  endeavor  to 
break  through  the  mist.  Accordingly,  within  the 
next  ten  days,  and  until  the  17th  of  the  ensuing 
month  of  July,  this  mist  will  be  converted  into  a 
stinking,  deleterious  rain,  whereby  the  air  will  be 
much  purified.  Now,  as  soon  as  this  rain  an- 
nounces itself,  every  one  of  you  should  protect 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


411 


himself  from  the  air ;  and,  as  well  before  as  after 
the  rain,  kindle  a  large  fire  of  vine-wood,  green 
laurel,  or  other  green  wood ;  wormwood  and 
camomile  should  also  be  burnt  in  great  quantity 
in  the  market-places,  in  other  densely  inhabited 
localities,  and  in  the  houses.  Until  the  earth  is 
again  completely  dry,  and  for  three  days  after- 
.  wards,  no  one  ought  to  go  abroad  in  the  fields. 
During  this  time  the  diet  should  be  simple,  and 
people  should  be  cautious  in  avoiding  exposure  in 
the  cool  of  the  evening,  at  night,  and  in  the 
morning.  Poultry  and  water-fowl,  young  pork, 
old  beef,  and  fat  meat,  in  general  should  not  be 
eaten  ;  but  on  the  contrary,  meat  of  a  proper  age, 
of  a  warm  and  dry  nature,  by  no  means,  how- 
ever, heating  and  exciting.  Broth  should  be 
taken,  seasoned  with  ground  pepper,  ginger  and 
cloves,  especially  by  those  who  are  accustomed 
to  live  temperately,  and  are  yet  choice  in  their 
diet.  Sleep  in  the  daytime  is  detrimental ;  it 
should  be  taken  at  night  until  sunrise,  or  some- 
what longer.  At  breakfast,  one  should  drink  lit- 
tle ;  supper  should  be  taken  an  hour  before  sun- 
set, when  more  may  be  drunk  than  in  the  morn- 
ing. Clear  light  wine,  mixed  with  a  fifth  or 
sixth  part  of  water,  should  be  used  as  a  beverage. 
Dried  or  fresh  fruits  with  wine  are  not  injurious  ; 
but  highly  so  without  it.  Beet-root  and  other 
vegetables,  whether  eaten  pickled  or  fresh,  are 
hurtful :  ou  the  contrary,  spicy  pot-herbs,  as  sage 
or  rosemary,  are  wholesome.  Cold,  moist,  wa- 
ter)- food  is,  in  general,  prejudicial.  Going  out 
at  night,  and  even  until  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  is  dangerous,  on  account  of  the  dew. 
Only  small  river  fish  should  be  used.  Too  much 
exercise  is  hurtful.  The  body  should  be  kept 
warmer  than  usual,  and  thus  protected  from 
moisture  and  cold.  Rain-water  must  not  be  em- 
ployed in  cooking,  and  every  one  should  guard 
against  exposure  to  wet  weather.  If  it  rain,  a 
little  fine  treacle  should  be  taken  after  dinner. 
Fat  people  should  not  sit  in  the  sunshine.  Good 
clear  wine  should  be  selected  and  drunk  often, 
but  in  small  quantities,  by  da5\  Olive  oil,  as  an 
article  of  food,  is  fatal.  Equally  injurious  are 
fasting  or  excessive  abstemiousness,  anxiety  of 
mind,  anger  and  excessive  drinking.  Young 
p20ple,  in  autumn  especially,  must  abstain  from 
all  these  things,  if  they  do  not  wish  to  run  a  risk 
of  dying  of  dysentery.  In  order  to  keep  the 
body  properly  open,    an   enema,    or  some  other 


simple  means,  should  be  employed  when  neces- 
sary. Bathing  is  injurious.  Men  must  preserve 
chastity  as  they  value  their  lives.  Every  one 
should  impress  this  on  his  recollection,  but  espe- 
cially those  who  reside  on  the  coast,  or  upon  an 
island  into  which  the  noxious  wind  has  pene- 
trated." 

There  are  many  passages  in  this  learned  docu- 
ment which  are  calculated  to  excite  a  smile  ;  such, 
for  instance,  as  the  one  advising  fat  men  not  to 
sit  in  the  sun  !  In  these  modern  times  it  would 
be  a  singular  sort  of  a  fat  man  who  would  volun- 
tarily sit  in  the  sun  when  he  could  sit  in  the 
shade  just  as  well ;  but  perhaps  the  fat  men  of 
the  fourteenth  century  were  different  from  those 
who  are  ' '  now  on  the  earth. ' '  There  is  also  an 
element  of  humor  in  the  advice  about  the  deadly 
qualities  of  olive  oil,  and  the  injurious  effects  of 
bathing.  The  latter  injunction,  if  we  are  cor- 
rectly informed  about  the  habits  of  most  of  the 
people  of  the  middle  ages,  was  hardl}-  necessary, 
for  some  one  has  remarked  that  the  only  bath 
they  were  accustomed  to  was  the  one  they  re- 
ceived at  baptism. 


WAS  IT  THE  HAND   OF  GOD? 

CHE  following  remarkable  statements  were 
furnished  by  a  correspondent  at  Birming- 
ham, Ala.,   in  October,  1890  : 

A  few  days  ago  a  man  was  found  dead  here  in 
the  gutter.  Even  in  death  there  was  a  mute  look 
of  terror  in  the  bloodshot  eyes,  and  the  bloated 
face  had  grown  pale  and  haggard  at  the  coming 
of  the  grim  destroyer.  ' '  Drink  ! ' '  said  the  Cor- 
oner's  jury,  but  an  old  man  who  came  and  looked 
for  a  long  time  on  the  pale,  dead  face,  said,  with 
a  shudder,  as  he  turned  away,  ' '  It  was  the  hand 
of  God."  This  man  who  died  in  the  gutter  was 
the  last  of  a  fated  thirteen,  and  in  the  death  of 
each  and  all  of  them,  the  Christian  will  read  the 
vengeance  of  an  insulted  Deity. 

At  the  leading  hotel  in  a  Southern  city,  in  the 
summer  of  1865,  thirteen  men,  wearing  the  uni- 
form of  Confederate  officers,  sat  down  to  a  dinner. 
Every  man  in  the  party  belonged  to  a  grand  old 
Southern  family,  and  many  of  the  names  are  illus- 
trious in  the  history  of  the  country.  Even-  man 
was  a  cavalier.  They  were  flowers  of  the  Old 
South,  representatives  of  the  chivalry  of  the 
sunny  land,  then  enveloped  in  the  gloom  of  de- 


412    THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


feat  and  despair.  Ever}-  man  there  had  been  a 
gallant  soldier  in  the  Confederate  army.  They 
had  returned  from  the  field  of  defeat  to  find  their 
homes  destroyed,  their  slaves  free,  their  wealth 
gone,  and  man}-  of  their  nearest  and  dearest  rela- 
tives and  friends  dead.  The  meeting  at  this  hotel 
was  a  chance  one,  but  talking  over  the  situation 
in  which  they  found  themselves,  the}-  resolved  to 
forget  the  horror  of  it  for  a  while  and  drown  their 
sorrows  in  drink.  They  sat  down  to  dinner,  and 
round  after  round  of  drinks  were  ordered.  Soon 
the  blood}-  scenes  of  war,  the  visions  of  ruined 
homes,  were  all  forgotten.  First  they  became 
merry,  then  reckless. 

"  Let  us  call  this  the  last  supper,"  suddenly 
exclaimed  one  of  the  party,  and  the  suggestion 
met  with  instant  approval.  The}-  might  never 
meet  again,  so  ' '  the  last  supper  ' '  would  be  a  fit- 
ting name  for  the  feast  where  reason  had  fled. 
More  drinks  were  ordered,  every  man  filled  his 
glass,  the  lights  were  turned  low  and  the  thirteen 
men  declared  themselves  Christ  and  his  twelve 
apostles.  A  young  man  who  had  commanded  a 
regiment  acted  the  role  of  Christ,  and  for  the  oc- 
casion, each  man  assumed  the  name  of  one  of  the 
apostles.  There  was  a  wrangle  as  to  who  should 
impersonate  Judas,  but  more  drinks  were  ordered, 
and  then  a  young  Lieutenant  agreed  to  act  the 
character  of  the  betrayer  of  his  Saviour. 

"It  was  midnight,  but  peals  of  drunken  laughter 
awoke  the  echoes  in  every  nook  and  corner  of  the 
old  house.  Again  and  again  the  decanters  were 
passed  around,  and  the  blasphemous  mocker}-  of 
the  last  supper  went  on.  A  Bible  was  called  for, 
and  the  young  officer  who  was  impersonating  the 
Saviour  turned  to  the  New  Testament  and  read 
aloud  the  solemn  words  of  Christ.  The  reading 
was  interrupted  now  and  then  by  some  coarse  jest 
or  ribald  laughter,  while  expressions  like,  "Judas, 
pass  the  bottle,"  would  excite  the  mirth  of  the 
drunken  men  to  a  point  that  completely  drowned 
the  voice  of  the  reader.  At  the  proper  point  in 
the  reading  bread  was  passed  around,  and  the 
wine  was  represented  by  glasses  filled  to  the  brim 
with  brandy. 

"  He  that  drinketh  from  the  bottle  with  me 
shall  betray  me  !  "  exclaimed  the  mock  Christ,  in 
a  tragic  manner,  and  placing  a  decanter  to  his  lips 
he  swallowed  a  quantity  of  brandy,  then  passed 
it  to   Judas  across  the  table.     This  was  greeted 


with  peals  of  laughter,  and  again  the  other  mock 
apostles  yelled,   "Judas,  pass  the  bottle  !  " 

All  night  long  this  mockery  went  on,  and  when 
morning  came  the  thirteen  men  were  in  a  drunken 
stupor.  It  was  several  days  before  they  all  re- 
covered from  the  effects  of  that  night's  debauch- 
ery. Then  they  separated.  That  supper  had  in- 
deed been  their  last ;  they  never  met  again. 

From  that  night  the  vengeance  of  God  followed 
those  thirteen  men.  Everything  they  undertook 
failed.  Apples  of  gold  turned  to  Dead  Sea  fruit 
in  their  hands.  One  by  one  they  went  to  the  dogs, 
and  every  man  of  them  met  a  horrible  and  dis- 
graceful death.  Repeated  failures  in  business 
drove  some  of  them  to  desperation  and  crime. 
One  of  them  was  lynched  in  Texas  for  murder. 
The  young  man  who  had  impersonated  Christ, 
was  drowned  in  the  Brazos  River  while  fleeing 
from  a  vigilance  committee  oil  a  stolen  horse,  and 
his  body  was  never  recovered.  Another,  while  in 
a  drunken  stupor,  was  caught  in  a  burning  build- 
ing and  perished  in  the  flames.  One  was  stabbed 
to  the  heart  by  a  woman  he  had  betrayed,  and 
still  another  was  murdered  in  a  low  brothel  in  a 
Western  city.  So  far  as  can  be  learned,  not  one 
of  them  ever  received  Christian  burial,  and  their 
graves  are  unmarked  and  unknown.  The  man 
who  died  in  the  gutter  and  was  buried  in  the 
potter's  field  was  the  last  of  the  thirteen. 


PROGRESS  OF  THE  ENGLISH    LANGUAGE    AS 
EXEMPLIFIED  IN  THE  LORD'S    PRAYER. 

CHE  world's  history  does  not  record  a  stranger 
phenomenon  than  the  present  state  of  the 
English  language.  If  is  unique  in  that,  while  all 
other  languages  have  a  unity  of  origin,  English 
alone  has  derived  its  words  from  every  source ;  no 
language  on  the  globe  but  has  contributed  more 
or  less  to  its  vocabulary.  So  wonderful  is  its 
adaptability,  that  materials  from  any  source  are 
easily  adjusted  to  the  use  of  its  people  ;  so  great 
is  its  flexibility,  that  any  material,  however  un- 
promising, may  be  brought  into  sendee  to  enrich 
its  capacity  for  the  expression  of  thought.  It  is 
practically  a  perfect  language,  from  the  fact  that 
it  may  be,  and  is,  changed  from  day  to  day  to  meet 
the  changing  requirements  of  any  age.  It  can  bor- 
row from  any  direction  and  incorporate  the  bor- 
rowed material  into  its  own  substance,  and  such 
is  the   wealth   of    the   lansniacre,    owing   to   this 


THE    SAXONS   IN    ENGLAND. 


(413) 


414 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


peculiarity,  that  no  tongue  has  more  synonyms, 
or  words  having  almost,  if  not  exactly,  the  same 
meaning. 

But  the  present  perfection  of  the  English  tongue 
was  reached  by  a  slow  growth — a  welding  to- 
gether of  some  of  the  best  parts  of  several  lan- 
guages. It  is  a  curious  feature  of  English  that 
its  growth  may  be  distinctly  traced  from  a  time 
when  its  forms  of  expression  can  hardly  be  recog- 
nized by  the  reader  of  to-day,  through  century 
after  century,  until  the  language  assumes  a  shape 
in  which  we  recognize  it,  not  as  colloquial  English, 


COMBAT   BETWEEN   ROMAN   AND   SAXON   SOLDIERS. 

but  as  the  English  of  the  best-known  publication 
in  the  language,  the  English  of  the  Bible.  The 
principal  elements  which  enter  into  the  English 
language,  are  the  Celtic,  the  Saxon,  or,  as  it  is 
sometimes  called,  the  Anglo-Saxon,  the  Norman- 
French  and  the  Latin.  In  the  native  home  of  the 
English  language,  it  is  still  possible  to  trace  in 
proper  names,  the  evidence  of  the  successive 
waves  of  population  which  have  passed  over  the 
country,  each  leaving  its  trace  on  the  nomencla- 
ture. So  far  as  known,  the  Celts  were  the  abori- 
gines, and  the  traces  of  their  occupation  may  be 
seen  in  the  names  still  given  to  English  rivers  and 


mountains.  The  Romans  came  next  and  con- 
quered the  country,  establishing  everywhere  forti- 
fied camps,  and  Winchester,  Dorchester,  and  a 
hundred  other  chesters,  cesters,  and  casters, 
attest  the  military  character  of  the  Roman  occu- 
pation. 

Saxon  Elements  in   English. 

Next  came  the  Saxons,  who  in  England  fol- 
lowed out  the  national  custom  of  their  native  land, 
and  settled  over  the  country  in  small  villages, 
many  of  them  imperfectly  fortified  with  stock- 
ades,   the  fields  of  the  inhabitants   surrounding 

these  little  groups 
of  houses.     These 
were  the  hams  or 
tons  ;  either  word 
meaning,    some- 
times, a  group  of 
houses,  sometimes 
a  single  dwelling, 
and  occasionally  a 
farm   with    its 
buildings.       Thus 
came  such   names 
or  places  as  Cob- 
ham,  Kuightham, 
Compton  ;    occa- 
sionally  a   combi- 
nation resulting  in 
such    a    word    as 
Northampton,  va- 
riety being  secured 
by    such     expres- 
sions   as   Tun- 
bridge,    originally 
o  n  1  y  the   town 
bridge,  and  Hamp- 
den,   which — den 
being   a   low  place — meant  the   town  or  hamlet 
in  the  marsh.     After  the  Saxons  came  the  Nor- 
man-French,   who    conquered    England    in    the 
eleventh  century,  and  perpetuated  their  govern- 
ment by  building  castles  or  chateaux  in  favorable 
situations  all  over  the  country,  whence  come  the 
French  names  of  many  of  the   old  ruins  to  be 
found  at  every  turn.     During  all  this  time — that 
is,  from  the  beginning  of  the  Christian  era  to  the 
end  of  the  twelfth  century — the  Latin  was  the 
language  of  the  learned,  the  language  of  the  law, 
to  some  extent  of  the  courts,   and  hence  Latin 
words  and  expressions  were  kept  in  use  from  age 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY, 


415 


to   age,    often   without  their  significance   being 
clearly  understood. 

In  this  connection,  it  is  curious  to  trace  in  many 
words  of  common  usage  evidences  of  national 
movements  which  took  place  when  our  great  lan- 
guage was  still  in  process  of  formation.  The 
proper  names  of  features  of  English  scenery  have 
already  been  mentioned,  but  in  addition  to  this 
we  have  basket,  pall,  mat- 
tock, and  several  other  Cel- 
tic words  of  similar  charac- 
ter, names  of  objects,  the 
use  of  which  the  Celts  may 
have  taught  their  conquerors. 
Most,  however,  of  the  com- 
mon words  of  our  language, 
the  names  of  objects,  such  as 
day,  sun,  moon  ;  the  names 
of  actions,  such  as  stand, 
fall ;  terms  of  relationship, 
such  as  father,  mother,  and 
the  like,  are  from  the  Saxon. 
A  singular  illustration  of  the 
Norman  supremacy  is  found 
in  the  fact  that  while  many 
names  of  domestic  animals, 
while  living,  are  Saxon,  the 
names  of  the  flesh  are  Nor- 
man. Thus,  ox,  sheep,  pig, 
are  Saxon,  while  beef,  mut- 
ton, pork,  are  Norman.  The 
Saxons  tended  the  animals, 
but  were  not  allowed  to  share 
the  flesh.  The  names  of  ne- 
cessary articles  of  clothing, 
such  as  shirt,  breeches,  shoes, 
and  hat,  are  Saxon,  while  the 
names  of  garments  and  arti- 
cles of  apparel,  the  form  of 
which  was  likely  to  change 
in  fashion,  were  Norman,  as 
coat,  mantle,  bonnet.  But  besides  these  elements 
of  the  English  language,  the  Latin,  as  already 
seen,  contributed  largely  ;  the  Danish,  mostly  in 
names  of  places  along  the  coast  of  England  fre- 
quented by  these  bold  pirates  ;  the  Greek,  as  seen 
in  scientific  terms  and  other  languages,  words  from 
which  crept  in  through  commercial  intercourse. 

The  First  English. 
This  linguistic  broth  bubbled  for  a  long  time 
ere  it  produced  literary  work  which  can  be  recog- 


nized as  English,  and,  although  so  familiar  a  bit 
of  composition  as  the  Lord's  Prayer  is  preserved 
in  Celtic,  Saxon,  Norman- French,  Latin,  and 
Danish,  in  none  of  these  languages  can  it,  by 
the  ordinary  reader,  be  recognized  as  bearing  any 
resemblance  whatever  to  the  English  which  we 
are  accustomed  to  use.  The  Lord's  Prayer  in 
Anglo-Saxon,  would  be  as  unfamiliar  to  the  Eng- 


A    SAXON    KINc 


lish  eye  as  the  same  composition  in  Low  Dutch. 
For  purposes  of  comparison,  however,  this 
familiar  prayer,  whose  brief  and  comprehensive 
terms  are  known  to  ever}-  child,  is  singularly 
appropriate,  and  the  more  so  that  the  first  im- 
portant book  printed  in  English  was  the  transla- 
tion of  the  Bible,  and  so  numerous  were  the 
translators  that  at  every  stage  in  the  history  of 
the  language  a  new  translation  appears  illustrating 
the  gradual  growth,  and  the  slow  processes  by 


416 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


which  our  language  has  arrived  at  its  present  per- 
fection. 

Specimens  of  the  earl5'  English,  which  pre- 
vailed before  the  3-ear  1300  are  numerous,  but 
the  language  as  then  spoken  and  written  was  the 
language  of  the  rhyming  chronicles,  a  language 
which,  though  more  closely  resembling  German, 
still  can  be  recognized  as  possessing  a  few  of  the 
characteristic  features  of  our  own  tonguvl-.  The 
following  version  of  the  Lord's  Prayer  is  from  a 


done  much  to  polish  the  English  language,  and 
so  it  is  not  surprising  to  find  that  WyclifFe's  trans- 
lation, made  from  the  Vulgate  of  Jerome,  is  a 
little  more  like  the  English  of  the  present  day. 
The  spelling  is  not  so  crude  as  in  the  former  ex- 
ample, and  altogether  the  version  of  1356  by  the 
great  reformer  is  a  considerable  improvement  on 
that  of  the- Oxford  manuscript. 

Fader  oure  in  hevene.     Halewd  be  thi  name. 
Come  thi  kingdom.     Thi  wille  be  don  as  in  heven 


INTRODUCTION    OF   CHRISTIANITY   INTO   ENGLAND. 


manuscript  paraphrase  of  the  scriptures  in  the 
library  of  Oxford,  and  dated  A.  D.  1290  : 

Fader  ure  in  heune,  halewede  beoth  thi  neune, 
cumen  thi  kuneriche,  thi  wote  beoth  idon  in 
heune  and  in  earth.  Ure  euerych  dawe  breid  git 
vus  thilk,  dawe.  And  vorzef  ure  deltes,  as  vi 
vorzefen  ure  bettoures,  and  lede  vus  nouzt  into 
temptation,  bote  deliueri  vus  of  uvel.     Amen. 

Sixty-five  years  later  Wyeliffe  and  his  followers 
finished  the  first  complete  English  translation  of 
the  Bible,  and  gave  it  to  the  world  at  a  time  of 
considerable  literary  activity.  It  was  the  age  of 
Gower  and    of   Chaucer.     The  courtly  poet  had 


and  in  erthe.  Oure  eche  dayes  bred  geve  us  to-day. 
And  forgeve  us  our  defies,  as  we  forgeven  our 
dettoures.  And  lede  us  not  into  temptatioun.  Bote 
delyvere  us  of  yvel.     Amen. 

But  changes  were  going  on  rapidly,  and  only  a 
few  years  later  a  marked  difference  was  observable 
in  the  forms  of  speech.  The  Wyeliffe  Bibles  have 
several  dates,  and  from  time  to  time  were  revised , 
apparently  at  the  pleasure  of  the  printer.  From 
a  copy  of  the  Scriptures,  presumably  a  version  \>y 
Wyeliffe,  dated  in  1380,  comes  the  following, 
which  shows  marked  improvement  over  the 
former  : 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


417 


(Dure  fadir  that  art  in  heunes  halowid  by  thi 
name,  thi  kingdom  come  to,  be  thi  wille  don  in 
erthe  as  in  heune,  give  to  us  this  day  our  breetl, 
ouir  other  substance,  forgeue  to  vs  our  dettis,  as 
we  forgeuen  to  our  dettouris,  lede  us  not  into 
temptacioun,  but  delyuer  us  from  yuel.     Amen. 

From  that  time  printed  copies  became  common, 
through  the  labors  of  Caxton  and  others,  and 
hardly  any  two  agree.  The  differences  were  not 
of  great  importance,  but  still  a  considerable 
change  from  its  predecessors,  both  in  spelling  and 
in  phraseology,  may  be  noticed  in  the  following 
version,  from  a  Bible  printed  in  14S3,  a  hundred 
years  later  than  the  one  last  mentioned  : 

Father  our  that  art  in  heavens,  hallowed  be 
thy  name  :  thy  kingdom  come  to  us  ;  thy  wille 
be  done  in  earth  as  is  in  heaven  ;  oure  every  days 
bred  give  us  to-day  ;  and  forgive  us  oure  tres- 
passes as  we  forgive  them  that  trespass  against 
us  ;  and  lead  us  not  into  temptatioun,  but  deliver 
us  from  all  evil  sin,  amen. 

Tyndale's  Translation. 

The  rise  and  progress  of  Puritanism  in  England 
gave  a  mighty  impetus  to  the  stud)-  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, and  the  work  of  translation  was  taken  up 
by  Wm.  Tyndale  and  other  learned  and  able  men. 
The  translation  given  by  Tyndale  brings  the 
prayer  into  a  form  quite  familiar.  His  Testament 
was  printed  in  1425,  and  the  following  version  is 
from  a  copy  dated  1534  : 

O  oure  father  which  art  in  heven,  hallowed  be 
thy  name.  Eet  thy  kingdome  come.  Thy  wille 
be  fulfilled  as  well  in  erth  as  yt  in  heven.  Geve 
vs  this  daye  oure  dayly  breede.  And  forgeve  vs 
our  trespasses,  even  as  we  forgeve  our  trespassers. 
And  leade  vs  not  into  temptacion  :  but  delyver  vs 
from  evell.  For  thine  is  the  kyngedome  and  the 
power  and  the  glorye  for  ever.     Amen. 

This  century  was  the  age  of  Raleigh  and  Spen- 
ser, Hooker  and  Sidney.  Clever  prose  writers 
and  able  conversationalists  appeared,  and  the  lan- 
guage became  that  of  polite  literature  and  refined 
thought.  The  English  Catholics,  seeing  the  im- 
portance of  the  Scriptures,  insisted  on  a  version  of 
their  own,  and,  in  compliance  with  this  demand, 
the  English  College  at  Rheims  prepared  a  trans- 
lation from  the  Vulgate,  gave  it  to  the  English- 
speaking  people,  and  from  it  comes  the  following  : 

Our  Father,  who  art  in  heaven,  hallowed  be 
Thy  name.  Thy  kingdom  come,  Thy  will  be 
27 


done  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven.  Give  us  this 
day  our  supersubstantial  bread,  And  forgive  us 
our  debts,  as  we  forgive  our  debtors  ;  And  lead  us 
not  into  temptation  ;  But  deliver  us  from  evil. 
Amen. 

The  marked  difference  between  this  and  the 
previous  versions  is  found  in  the  use  of  the  word 
"supersubstantial."  The  commentator  on  the 
Douay  Bible,  as  the  Rheims  and  Douay  version 
is  commonly  called,  is  careful  to  explain  that,  in 
their  prayer,  Euke  says  "  daily,"  but  Matthew 
refers  to  the  "supersubstantial,"  contained  in  the 
wafer  of  the  mass. 

The  Breeches  Bible. 

From  Tyndale's  time,  his  translation  served  as 
the  basis  of  all  others,  and  Cranmer's,  or  the 
Great  Bible,  Matthew's,  the  Bishop's  Bible,  and 
a  score  of  others  appeared,  all  modifications  of  the 
one  by  Tyndale.  Minor,  yet  sometimes  curious, 
differences  are  observable.  The  Breeches  Bible 
of  1608,  so-called  from  a  verse  in  Genesis,  "They 
sewed  figge  leaves  together  and  made  themselves 
breeches, ' '  has  its  own  rendering. 

Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven  halowed  be 
Thy  name  :  Thy  kingdom  come  :  Eet  thy  will  be 
euen  in  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven  :  Our  Dayly 
Bread  Giue  us  for  the  day ;  And  forgive  us  our 
sinnes :  for  even  wee  forgive  euery  mann  that  is  in- 
debted to  us :  And  lead  us  not  into  tentation  : 
But  deliuer  us  from  evill.     Amen. 

The  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth  and  the 
early  years  of  the  seventeenth  centuries  were 
among  the  most  glorious  periods  of  our  language 
and  literature  ;  the  days  of  Bacon  and  Massinger 
and  Jonson,  of  Shakspeare  and  Milton  and  Tay- 
lor. The  language  then  assumed  the  form  it 
still  retains,  save  in  minor  particulars.  The 
multiplicity  of  copies,  and  consequent  variety  of 
readings,  induced  James  I.  to  direct  the  prepara- 
tion of  a  new  version,  to  be  based  on  Tyndale, 
as  had  all  the  other?  since  the  time  of  the  great 
scholar.  This  revision  has  since  been  styled 
the  Authorized  Version,  The  King  James  Bible 
gives  the  prayer  in  its  present  form  : 

Our  Father  which  art  in  heaver*,  hallowed  be 
thy  name.  Thy  kingdom  come,  th}'  will  be  done 
on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven.  Give  us  this  day  our 
daily  bread,  and  forgive  us  our  debts  as  we  for- 
give our  debtors.  And  lead  us  not  into  temptation, 
but  deliver  us  from  evil.     For  thine  is  the  king- 


418 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


dom  and  the  power  and  the  glory  forever. 
Amen. 

It  is  a  curious  fact,  however,  that  in  repeating 
the  prayer  most  persons  substitute  ' '  forgive  us 
our  trespasses,  as  we  forgive  those  who  trespass 
against  us,"  for  the  words  as  given  above,  which 
are  not  found  either  in  Matthew  or  Luke,  but 
which  are  found  in  the  version  of  1483.  The 
change  was  probably  in  the  interest  of  euphony. 

The  revisers  of  1S81  made  no  changes  of  conse- 
quence, save  to  alter  the  concluding  words  in 
Matthew  to  "And  bring  us  not  into  temptation, 
but  deliver  us  from  the  evil  one,"  while  in  Luke 
the  prayer  is  cut  short  with  the  words,  "And 
bring  us  not  into  temptation."  This  brief  peti- 
tion, therefore,  presents  us  a  complete  history  of 
the  changes  which  have  taken  place  in  written 
and  spoken  English  for  a  period  of  over  600  years. 


ANECDOTE    OF     CHIEF    JUSTICE    MARSHALL. 

A  COURTEOUS  and  intelligent  English  trav- 
eller in  the  United  States,  the  Hon.  Charles 
Augustus  Murray,  has  given  us  a  pleasing  picture 
of  Marshall,  as  he  appeared  at  Richmond  in  1835, 
a  few  months  before  his  death  : — "A  tall,  vener- 
able man  ;  his  hair  tied  in  a  cue,  according  to 
olden  custom,  and  with  a  countenance  indicating 
that  simplicity  of  mind  and  benignity  which  so 
eminently  distinguished  his  character.  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  several  long  conversations  with  him, 
and  was  struck  with  admiration  at  the  extraor- 
dinary union  of  modesty  and  power,  gentleness 
and  force  which  his  mind  displays.  His  house  is 
small,  and  more  humble  in  appearance  than  those 
of  the  average  of  successful  lawyers  or  merchants. 
I  called  three  times  upon  him  ;  there  is  no  bell  to 
the  door  ;  once  I  turned  the  handle  of  it,  and 
walked  in  unannounced  ;  on  the  other  two  occa- 
sions he  had  seen  me  coming,  and  lifted  the  latch 
and  received  me  at  the  door,  although  he  was  at 
the  time  suffering  from  some  very  severe  contu- 
sions received  in  the  stage  while  travelling  on  the 
road  from  Fredericksburg  to  Richmond. ' ' 

Anecdotes  of  the  simplicity  of  Marshall  are  nu- 
merous. On  one  occasion,  as  the  story  has  been 
related  to  us,  at  the  old  market  at  Richmond, 
meeting  a  would-be  exquisite,  and  hearing  him 
call  for  some  one  to  take  a  turkey  which  he  had 
purchased,  home  for  him,  he  humorously  offered 
himself.  He  was  in  his  usual  plain  dress,  and  the 
gentleman,  taking  him  for  a  countryman,  accepted 


his  services.  The  judge  carried  the  turkey  home, 
and  actually  received  a  shilling  for  his  services, 
which  proved  a  very  costly  retainer  to  the  young 
man,  in  the  amount  of  chagrin  he  endured,  when 
he  found  that  his  porter  was  the  Chief-Justice  of 
the  United  States. 

His  favorite  haunt  at  Richmond  was  Buchanan's 
Spring,  just  on  the  edge  of  town,  where  he  used 
to  go  with  the  club  of  which  he  was  a  member, 
pitch  quoits,  drink  juleps,  and  dispute  about  the 
technicalities  of  the  game  with  the  zest  of  a  boy. 
The  club  still  survives,  rich  in  these  traditions. 


AGREEABLE  COMPANIONS  AND  FLATTERERS. 

AX  old  acquaintance  who  met  me  this  morning 
seemed  overjoyed  to  see  me,  and  told  me  I 
looked  as  well  as  he  had  known  me  do  these  forty 
years  ;  but,  continued  he,  not  quite  the  man  you 
were  wdien  we  visited  together  at  Lad}-  Brightly's. 
Oh!  Isaac,  those  days  are  over.  Do  you  think 
there  are  any  such  fine  creatures  now  living  as  we 
then  conversed  with  ?  He  went  on  with  a  thousand 
incoherent  circumstances,  which,  in  his  imagina- 
tion, must  needs  please  me  ;  but  the}-  had  the 
quite  contrary  effect.  The  flatten- with  which  he 
began,  in  telling  me  how  well  I  wore,  was  not 
disagreeable  ;  but  his  indiscreet  mention  of  a  set 
of  acquaintance  we  had  outlived,  recalled  ten 
thousand  things  to  1113-  memory,  which  made  me 
reflect  upon  my  present  condition  with  regret. 
Had  he  indeed  been  so  kind  as,  after  a  long  ab- 
sence, to  felicitate  me  upon  an  indolent  and  easy 
old  age,  and  mentioned  how  much  he  and  I  had 
to  thank  for,  who  at  our  time  of  da}'  could  walk 
firmly,  eat  heartily,  and  converse  cheerfully,  he 
had  kept  up  my  pleasure  in  myself.  But  of  all 
mankind,  there  are  none  so  shocking  as  these  in- 
judicious civil  people.  They  ordinarily  begin 
upon  something  that  they  know  must  be  a  satis- 
faction ;  but  then,  for  fear  of  the  imputation  of 
flatten-,  they  follow  it  with  the  last  thing  in  the 
world  of  which  you  would  be  reminded.  It  is  this 
that  perplexes  civil  persons.  The  reason  that 
there  is  such  a  general  outcry  among  us  against 
flatterers,  is,  that  there  are  so  very  few  good  ones. 
It  is  the  nicest  art  in  this  life,  and  is  a  part  of 
eloquence  which  does  not  want  the  preparation 
that  is  necessary  to  all  other  parts  of  it,  that  your 
audience  should  be  your  well-wishers  ;  for  praise 
rrom  an  enemy  is  the  most  pleasing  of  all  com- 
mendations. 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


419 


SERGEANT  CHAMPE'S  ATTEMPT  TO  ARREST 
ARNOLD. 

The  following  account  of  the  romantic  adven- 
tures of  Sergeant  Champe,  in  his  effort  to  capture 
the  traitor  Arnold,  is  copied  from  the  writings  of 
"  Light  Horse  Harry  Lee,"  of  Virginia,  at  whose 
request  Champe  was  induced  to  enter  upon  the 
desperate  undertaking : 

Giving  to  the  sergeant  three  guineas,  and  pre- 
senting his  best  wishes,  Lee  recommended  him 
to  start  without  delay,  and  enjoined  him  to  com- 
municate his  arrival  in  New  York  as  soon  there- 
after as  might  be  practicable.  Champe,  pulling 
out  his  watch,  compared  it 
with  the  major's,  reminding 
the  latter  of  the  importance 
of  holding  back  pursuit, 
which  he  was  convinced 
would  take  place  'n  the 
course  of  the  night,  and 
which  might  be  fatal,  as  he 
knew  that  he  should  be 
obliged  to  zigzag  in  order 
to  avoid  the  patroles,  which 
would  consume  time.  It 
was  now  nearly  eleven. 
The  sergeant  returned  to 
camp,  and  taking  his  cloak, 
valise  and  orderly  book,  he 
drew  his  horse  from  the 
picket,  and  mounting  him 
put  himself  upon  fortune. 
Lee,  charmed  with  his  ex- 
peditious consummation  of 
the  first  part  of  the  enter- 
prise, retired  to  rest.  Use- 
less attempt !  the  past  scene  could  not  be  oblit- 
erated; and,  indeed,  had  that  been  practicable, 
the  interruption  which  ensued  would  have  stopped 
repose. 

Within  half  an  hour  Captain  Carnes,  officer  of 
the  day,  waited  upon  the  major,  and  with  consid- 
erable emotion  told  him  that  one  of  the  patrole 
had  fallen  in  with  a  dragoon,   who,    being:   chal- 


can  the  fellow  that  was  pursued  be  ?  inquired  the 
major ;  adding,  a  countryman,  probably.  No, 
replied  the  captain,  the  patrole  sufficiently  distin- 
guished him  as  to  know  that  he  was  a  dragoon  ; 
probably  one  from  the  army,  if  not  certainly  one 
of  our  own.  This  idea  was  ridiculed  from  its  im- 
probability, as  during  the  whole  war  but  a  single 
dragoon  had  deserted  from  the  legion.  This  did 
not  convince  Carnes,  so  much  stress  was  now  the 
fashion  to  lay  on  the  desertion  of  Arnold,  and  the 
probable  effect  of  his  example.  The  captain 
withdrew  to  examine  the  squadron  of  horse,  whom 
he  had  ordered  to  assemble  in  nursuauce  of  estab- 


lenged,  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  escaped,  though 
instantly  pursued.  Lee,  complaining  of  the  inter- 
ruption, and  pretending  to  be  extremely  fatigued 
by  his  ride  to  and  from  headquarters,  answered  as 
if  he  did  not  understand  what  had  been  said, 
which  compelled  the  captain  to  repeat  it.     Who 


SERGEANT   CHAMPE'S    DEPARTURE. 

lished  usage  on  similar  occasions.  Very  quickly 
he  returned,  stating  that  the  scoundrel  was  known, 
and  was  no  less  a  person  than  the  sergeant-major, 
who  had  gone  off  with  his  horse,  baggage,  arms 
and  orderly  book — so  presumed,  as  neither  the 
one  nor  the  other  could  be  found.  Sensibly  af- 
fected at  the  supposed  baseness  of  a  soldier  ex- 
tremely respected,  the  captain  added  that  he  had 
ordered  a  party  to  make  ready  for  pursuit,  and 
begged  the  major's  written  orders. 

Occasionally  this  discourse  was  interrupted,  and 
ever}-  idea  suggested  which  the  excellent  charac- 
ter of  the  sergeant  warranted,  to  induce  the  sus- 
picion that  he  had  not  deserted,  but  had  taken 


420 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


the  liberty  to  leave  camp  with  a  view  to  personal 
pleasure  ;  an  example,  said  Lee,  too  often  set  by 
the  officers  themselves,  destructive  as  it  was  of 
discipline,  opposed,  as  it  was  to  orders,  and  disas- 
trous as  it  might  prove  to  the  corps  in  the  course 
of  service. 

Some  little  delay  was  thus  interposed  ;  but  it 
being  now  announced  that  the  pursuing  party 
was  ready,  major  Lee  directed  a  change  in  the 
officer,  saying  that  he  had  a  particular  service  in 
view,  which  he  had  determined  to  entrust  to  the 
lieutenant  ready  for  duty,  and  which  probably 
must  be  performed  in  the  morning.  He  therefore 
directed  him  to  summon  Cornet  Middleton  for  the 
present  command.  Lee  was  induced  thus  to  act, 
first  to  add  to  the  delay,  and  next  from  his  knowl- 
edge of  the  tenderness. of  Middleton' s  disposition, 
which  he  hoped  would  lead  to  the  protection  of 
Champe  should  he  be  taken.  Within  ten  minutes 
Middleton  appeared  to  receive  his  orders,  which 
were  delivered  to  him  made  out  in  the  customary 
form,  and  signed  by  the  major.  "Pursue  so  far 
as  you  can  with  safety  Sergeant  Champe,  who  is 
suspected  of  deserting  to  the  enemy,  and  has 
taken  the  road  leading  to  Paulus  Hook.  Bring 
him  alive,  that  he  ma}'  suffer  in  the  presence  of 
the  army  ;  but  kill  him  if  he  resists,  or  escapes 
after  being  taken." 

Detaining  the  cornet  a  few  minutes  longer  in 
advising  him  what  course  to  pursue, — urging  him 
to  take  care  of  the  horse  and  accoutrements,  if 
recovered, — and  enjoining  him  to  be  on  his  guard, 
lest  he  might,  by  his  eager  pursuit,  improvidently 
fall  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy, — the  major  dis- 
missed Middleton,  wishing  him  success.  A 
shower  of  rain  fell  soon  after  Champe' s  depar- 
ture, which  enabled  the  pursuing  dragoons  to  take 
the  trail  of  his  horse  ;  knowing,  as  officer  and 
troopers  did,  the  make  of  their  shoes,  whose  im- 
pression was  an  unerring  guide.* 

When  Middleton  departed,  it  was  a  few  minutes 
past  twelve  ;  so  that  Champe  had  only  the  start 
of  rather  more  than  an  hour, — by  no  means  so 
long  as  was  desired.  Lee  became  very  unhappy, 
not  only  because  the  estimable  and  gallant  Champe 
might  be  injured,  but  lest  the  enterprise  might  be 

*  The  horses  being  all  shod  by  our  own  farriers,  the  shoes 
were  made  in  the  same  form  ;  which,  with  a  private  mark 
annexed  to  the  fore-shoes,  and  known  to  die  troopers, 
pointed  out  the  trail  of  our  dragoons  to  each  other,  which 
was  often  very  useful. 


delayed  :  and  he  spent  a  sleepless  night.  The 
pursuing  party  during  the  night,  were,  on  their 
part,  delayed  by  the  necessary  halts  to  examine 
occasionally  the  road,  as  the  impression  of  the 
horse's  shoes  directed  their  course  ;  this  was  un- 
fortunately too  evident,  no  other  horse  having 
passed  along  the  road  since  the  shower.  When 
the  da}'  broke,  Middleton  was  no  longer  forced  to 
halt,  and  he  pressed  on  with  rapidity.  Ascending 
an  eminence  before  he  reached  the  Three  Pid- 
geons,  some  miles  on  the  north  of  the  village  of 
Bergen,  as  the  pursuing  party  reached  its  summit, 
Champe  was  descried  not  more  than  half  a  mile 
in  front.  Resembling  an  Indian  in  his  vigilance, 
the  sergeant  at  the  same  moment  discovered  the 
part}'  (whose  object  he  was  no  stranger  to),  and 
giving  spur  to  his  horse,  he  determined  to  outstrip 
his  pursuers.  Middleton  at  the  same  instant  put 
his  horses  to  the  top  of  their  speed  ;  and  being 
(as  the  legion  all  were)  well  tcquainted  with  the 
country,  he  recollected  a  short  route  through  the 
woods  to  the  bridge  below  Bergen,  which  diverged 
from  the  great  road  just  after  you  gain  the  Three 
Pidgeons.  Reaching  the  point  of  separation,  he 
halted  :  and  dividing  the  party,  directed  a  ser- 
geant with  a  few  dragoons  to  take  the  near  cut, 
and  possess  with  all  possible  despatch  the  bridge, 
while  he  with  the  residue  followed  Champe  ;  not 
doubting  but  that  Champe  must  deliver  himself 
up,  as  he  would  be  closed  between  himself  and 
his  sergeant.  Champe  did  not  forget  the  short 
cut,  and  would  have  taken  it  himself,  but  he 
knew  it  was  the  usual  route  of  our  parties  when 
returning  in  the  day  from  the  neighborhood  of 
the  enemy,  properly  preferring  the  woods  to  the 
road.  He  consequently  avoided  it ;  and  persuaded 
that  Middleton  would  avail  himself  of  it,  wisely 
resolved  to  relinquish  his  intention  of  getting  to 
Paulus  Hook,  and  to  seek  refuge  from  two  British 
galleys,  lying  a  few  miles  to  the  west  of  Bergen. 
This  was  a  station  always  occupied  by  one  or 
two  galleys,  and  which  it  was  known  now  lay 
there.  Entering  the  village  of  Bergen,  Champe 
turned  to  his  right,  and  disguising  his  change  of 
course  as  much  as  he  could  by  taking  the  beaten 
streets,  turning  as  they  turned,  he  passed  through 
the  village  and  took  the  road  towards  Elizabeth- 
town  Point.  Middleton's  sergeant  gained  the 
bridge,  where  he  concealed  himself,  ready  to 
pounce  upon  Champe  when  he  came  up ;  and 
Middleton,  pursuing  his  course  through  Bergen, 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


421 


soon  got  also  to  the  bridge,  when,  to  his  extreme 
mortification,  he  found  that  the  sergeant  had 
slipped  through  his  fingers.  Returning  up  the 
road,  he  inquired  of  the  villagers  of  Bergen, 
whether  a  dragoon  had  been  seen  that  morning 
preceding  his  part}'.  He  was  answered  in  the  af- 
firmative, but  could  learn  nothing  satisfactorily 
as  to  the  route  he  took.  While  engaged  in  in- 
quiries himself,  he  spread  his  party  through  the 
village  to  strike  the  trail 
ofChampe's  horse,  a  resort 
always  recurred  to.  Some 
of  his  dragoons  hit  it  just 
as  the  sergeant,  leaving  the 
village,  got  in  the  road  to 
the  Point.  Pursuit  was  re- 
newed with  vigor,  and 
again  Champe  was  des- 
cried. He,  apprehending 
the  event,  had  prepared 
himself  for  it,  by  lashing 
his  valise  (containing  his 
clothes  and  orderly  book) 
on  his  shoulders,  and  hold- 
ing his  drawn  sword  in 
his  hand,  having  thrown 
away  its  scabbard.  This 
he  did  to  save  what  was 
indispensable  to  him,  and 
to  prevent  any  interruption 
to  his  swimming  by  the 
scabbard,  should  Middleton 
as  he  presumed,  when  dis- 
appointed at  the  bridge 
take  the  measures  adopted 
by  him.  The  pursuit  was 
rapid  and  close,  as  the  stop 
occasioned  by  the  sergeant's 
preparations  for  swimming 
had    brought    Middleton 

within  two  or  three  hundred  yards.  As  soon 
as  Champe  got  abreast  of  the  galleys,  he  dis- 
mounted, and  running  through  the  marsh  to 
the  river,  plunged  into  it,  calling  upon  the  gal- 
leys for  help.  This  was  readily  given ;  they 
fired  upon  our  horse,  and  sent  a  boat  to  meet 
Champe,  who  was  taken  in  and  carried  on  board, 
and  conveyed  to  New  York  with  a  letter  from  the 
captain  of  the  galley,  stating  the  past  scene,  all 
of  which  he  had  observed. 


The  horse  with  his  equipments,  the  sergeant's 
cloak  and  sword  scabbard,  were  recovered  ;  the 
sword  itself,  being  held  by  Champe  until  he 
plunged  into  the  river,  was  lost,  as  Middleton 
found  it  necessary  to  retire  without  searching 
for  it. 

About  three  o'clock  in  the  evening  our  party 
returned,  and  the  soldiers,  seeing  the  horse  (well 
known  to  them)  in  our  possession,  made  the  air 


BRITISH    OFFICERS    IN    NEW   YORK. 

resound   with   exclamations   that    the    scoundrel 
was  killed. 

Major  Lee,  called  by  this  heart-rending  annun- 
ciation from  his  tent,  saw  the  sergeant's  horse 
led  by  one  of  Middleton's  dragoons,  and  began 
to  reproach  himself  with  the  blood  of  the  high- 
prized,  faithful  and  intrepid  Champe.  Stifling 
his  agony,  he  advanced  to  meet  Middleton,  and 
became  somewhat  relieved  as  soon  as  he  got  near 
enouefh  to  discern  the  countenances  of  his  officer 


422 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


and  party.  There  was  evidence  in  their  looks  of 
disappointment,  and  he  was  quickly  relieved  by 
Middleton's  information  that  the  sergeant  had  ef- 
fected his  escape  with  the  loss  of  his  horse,  and 
narrated  the  particulars  just  recited. 

Lee's  joy  was  now  as  full  as,  the  moment  before, 
his  torture  had  been  excruciating.  Never  was  a 
happier  conclusion,  the  sergeant  escaped  unhurt, 
carrying  with  him  to  the  enemy  undeniable  testi- 
mony of  the  sincerity  of  his  desertion, — cancelling 
even-  apprehension  before  entertained,  lest  the 
enemy  might  suspect  him  of  being  what  he  really 
was. 

Major  Lee  imparted  to  the  commander-in-chief 
the  occurrence,  who  was  sensibly  affected  by  the 
hair-breadth  escape  of  Champe,  and  anticipated 
with  pleasure  the  good  effect  sure  to  follow  the 
enemy's  knowledge  of  its  manner. 

On  the  fourth  day  after  Champe' s  departure, 
Lee  received  a  letter  from  him,  written  the  day 
before  in  a  disguised  hand,  without  any  signature, 
and  stating  what  had  passed  after  he  got  on  board 
the  galley,  where  he  was  kindly  received. 

He  was  carried  to  the  commandant  of  New 
York  as  soon  as  he  arrived,  and  presented  the 
letter  addressed  to  this  officer  from  the  captain  of 
the  galley.  Being  asked  as  to  what  corps  he  lie- 
longed,  and  a  few  other  common  questions,  he 
was  sent  under  care  of  an  orderly  sergeant  to  the 
adjutant-general,  who,  finding  that  he  was  ser- 
geant-major of  the  legion  of  horse,  heretofore  re- 
markable for  their  fidelity,  began  to  interro- 
gate him.  He  was  told  by  Champe,  that  such 
was  the  spirit  of  defection  which  prevailed  among 
the  American  troops  in  consequence  of  Arnold's 
example,  that  he  had  no  doubt,  if  the  temper  was 
properly  cherished,  Washington's  ranks  would  not 
only  be  greatly  thinned,  but  that  some  of  his  best 
corps  would  leave  him.  To  this  conclusion,  the  ser- 
geant said,  he  was  led  by  his  own  observations, 
and  especially  by  his  knowledge  of  the  discon- 
tents which  agitated  the  corps  to  which  he  had 
belonged.  His  size,  place  of  birth,  his  form, 
countenance,  color  of  his  hair,  the  corps  in  which 
he  had  served  with  other  remarks,  in  conformity 
to  the  British  usage,  were  noted  in  a  large  folio 
book.  After  this  was  finished,  he  was  sent  to  the 
commander-in-chief,  in  charge  of  one  of  the  staff, 
with  a  letter  from  the  adjutant-general.  Sir 
Henry  Clinton  treated  him  very  kindly,  and  de- 
tained him  more  than  one  hour,  asking  him  many 


questions,  all  leading, — first  to  know  to  what  ex- 
tent this  spirit  of  defection  might  be  pushed  by  pro- 
per incitements, — what  were  the  most  operating  in- 
citements, —whether  any  general  officers  were  sus- 
pected by  Washington  as  concerned  in  Arnold's 
conspiracy,  or  any  other  officers  of  note  ; — who 
they  were,  and  whether  the  troops  approved  or 
censured  Washington's  suspicions;  whether  his 
popularity  in  the  army  Avas  sinking  or  continued 
stationary.  What  was  Major  Andre's  situation, 
— whether  any  change  had  taken  place  in  the 
manner  of  his  confinement, — what  was  the  current 
opinion  of  his  probable  fate, — and  whether  it  was 
thought  Washington  would  treat  him  as  a  sp5*. 
To  these  various  interrogations,  some  of  which 
were  perplexing,  Champe  answered  warily ;  ex- 
citing, nevertheless,  hopes  that  the  adoption  of 
proper  measures  to  encourage  desertion  (of  which 
lie  could  not  pretend  to  form  an  opinion)  would 
certainly  bring  off  hundreds  of  the  American 
soldiers,  including  some  of  the  best  troops,  horse 
as  well  as  foot.  Respecting  the  fate  of  Andre,  he 
said  he  was  ignorant,  though  there  appeared  to 
be  a  general  wish  in  the  army  that  his  life  should 
not  be  taken  ;  and  that  he  believed  it  would  de- 
pend more  upon  the  disposition  of  Congress,  than 
on  the  will  of  Washington. 

After  this  long  conversation  ended,  Sir  Henry 
presented  Champe  with  a  couple  of  guineas,  and 
recommended  him  to  wait  upon  General  Arnold, 
who  was  engaged  in  raising  an  American  legion 
in  the  sen-ice  of  His  Majesty.  He  directed  one 
of  his  aids  to  write  to  Arnold  by  Champe,  stating 
who  he  was,  and  what  he  had  said  about  the  dis- 
position in  the  army  to  follow  his  example  ;  which 
being  very  soon  done,  it  was  given  to  the  orderly 
attending  on  Champe  to  be  presented  with  the 
deserter  to  General  Arnold.  Arnold  expressed 
much  satisfaction  on  hearing  from  Champe  the 
manner  of  his  escape,  and  the  effect  of  Arnold's 
example  ;  and  concluded  his  numerous  inquiries 
by  assigning  quarters  to  the  sergeant, — the  same 
as  were  occupied  by  his  recruiting  sergeant. 

He  also  proposed  to  Champe  to  join  his  legion, 
telling  him  he  would  give  him  the  same  station 
he  had  held  in  the  rebel  sen'ice,  and  promising 
further  advancement  when  merited.  Expressing 
his  wish  to  retire  from  war,  and  his  conviction  of 
the  certainty  of  his  being  hung  if  ever  taken  by 
the  rebels,  he  begged  to  be  excused  from  enlist- 
ment ;  assuring  the  general,  that  should  he  change 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S  HISTORY. 


423 


his  mind,  he  would  certainly  accept  his  offer.  Re- 
tiring to  the  assigned  quarter,  Champe  now  turned 
his  attention  to  the  delivery  of  his  letters,  which 
he  could  not  effect  until  the  next  night,  and  then 
only  to  one  of  the  two  incognita  to  whom  he  was 
recommended.  This  man  received  the  sergeant 
with  extreme  attention,  and  having  read  the  let- 
ter, assured  Champe  that  he  might  rely  on  his 
faithful  co-operation  in  doing  everything  in  his 
power  consistent  with  his  safety,  to  guard  which 
required  the  utmost  prudence  and  circumspection. 
The  sole  object  in  which  the  aid  of  this  individual 
was  required,  regarded  the  general  and  others  of 
our  army,  implicated  in  the  information  sent  to 
Washington  by  him.  To 
this  object  Champe  urged 
his  attention  ;  assuring  him 
of  the  solicitude  it  had  ex- 
cited, and  telling  him  that 
its  speedy  investigation  had 
induced  the  general  to  send 
him  into  New  York  ;  prom- 
ising to  enter  upon  it  with 
zeal,  and  engaging  to  send 
out  Champe' s  letters  to 
Major  Lee,  he  fixed  the 
time  and  place  for  their 
next  meeting,  when  they 
separated. 

Tee  made  known  to  the 
General  what  had  be  e  n 
transmitted  to  him  by 
Champe,  and  received  in 
answer  directions  to  press 
Champe  to  the  expeditious 

conclusion  of  his  mission  ;  as  the  fate  of  An- 
dre would  be  soon  decided,  when  little  or  no  delay 
could  be  admitted  in  executing  whatever  sentence 
the  court  might  decree.  The  same  messenger 
who  brought  Champe' s  letter,  returned  with  the 
ordered  communication.  Five  days  had  nearly 
elapsed  after  reaching  New  York,  before  Champe 
saw  the  confidant  to  whom  only,  the  attempt 
against  Arnold  was  to  be  entrusted.  This  person 
entered  with  promptitude  into  the  design,  promis- 
ing his  cordial  assistance.  To  procure  a  proper 
associate  to  Champe  was  the  first  object,  and  this 
he  promised  to  do  with  all  possible  despatch. 
Furnishing  a  conveyance  to  Lee,  he  again  heard 
from  Champe,  who  stated  what  I  have  related, 


with  the  additional  intelligence  that  he  had  that 
morning  (the  last  of  September)  been  appointed 
one  of  Arnold's  recruiting  sergeants,  having  en- 
listed the  daj-  before  with  Arnold  ;  and  that  he  was 
induced  to  take  this  afflicting  step,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  securing  uninterrupted  ingress  and  egress 
to  the  house  which  the  general  occupied  ;  it  being 
indispensable  to  a  speedy  conclusion  of  the  diffi- 
cult enterprise  which  the  information  he  had  just 
received  had  so  forcibly  urged.  He  added,  that 
the  difficulties  in  his  way  were  numerous  and 
stubborn,  and  that  his  prospect  of  success  was  by 
no  means  cheering.  With  respect  to  the  addi- 
tional   treason,   he    asserted   that  he   had   every 


INTERVIEW    BETWEEN    ARNOLD  AND   SERGEANT   CHAMPE. 

reason  to  believe  that  it  was  groundless  ;  that  the 
report  took  its  rise  in  the  enemy's  camp,  and  that 
he  hoped  soon  to  clear  up  the  matter  satisfac- 
torily. The  pleasure  which  the  last  part  of  this 
communication  afforded,  was  damped  by  the  tid- 
ings it  imparted  respecting  Arnold,  as  on  his 
speedy  delivers-  depended  Andre's  relief.  The  in- 
terposition of  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  who  was  ex- 
tremely anxious  to  save  his  much-loved  aid-de- 
camp, still  continued  ;  and  it  was  expected  the 
examination  of  witnesses  and  the  defence  of  the 
prisoner,  would  protract  the  decision  of  the  court 
of  inquiry,  now  assembled,  and  give  sufficiei  t 
time  for  the  consummation  of  the  project  com- 
mitted to  Champe.     A  complete  disappointment 


424 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


took  place  from  a  quarter  unforeseen  and  unex- 
pected. The  honorable  and  accomplished  Andre, 
knowing  his  guilt,  disdained  defence,  and  pre- 
vented the  examination  of  witnesses  by  confessing 
the  character  in  which  he  stood.  On  the  next 
day  (_the  2d  of  October)  the  court  again  assembled  ; 
when  every  doubt  that  could  possibly  arise  in  the 
case  having  been  removed  by  the  previous  confes- 
sion, Andre  was  declared  to  be  a  spy,  and  con- 
demned to  suffer  accordingly. 

The  sentence  was  executed  on  the  subsequent 
day  in  the  usual  form,  the  commander-in-chief 
deeming  it  improper  to  interpose  an}-  delay.  In 
this  decision  he  was  warranted  by  the  very  un- 
promising intelligence  received  from  Champe, — 
by  the  still  existing  implication  of  other  officers 
in  Arnold's  conspiracy, — by  a  due  regard  to  public 
opinion, — and  by  real  tenderness  to  the  con- 
demned. 

Xeither  Congress  nor  the  nation  could  have 
been  with  propriety  informed  of  the  cause  of  the 
delay,  and  without  such  information  it  must  have 
excited  in  both  alarm  and  suspicion.  Andre  him- 
self could  not  have  been  entrusted  with  the  secret, 
and  would  consequently  have  attributed  the  un- 
looked-for event  to  the  expostulation  and  exertion 
of  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  which  would  not  tail  to 
produce  in  his  breast  expectations  of  ultimate 
relief ;  to  excite  which  would  have  been  cruel,  as 
the  realization  of  such  expectations  depended  upon 
a  possible  but  improbable  contingency.  The  fate 
of  Andre,  hastened  by  himself,  deprived  the  enter- 
prise committed  to  Champe  of  a  feature  which  had 
been  highly  prized  by  its  projector,  and  which 
had  very  much  engaged  the  heart  of  the  individual 
chosen  to  execute  it. 

Washington  ordered  Major  Lee  to  communicate 
what  had  passed  to  the  sergeant,  with  directions 
to  encourage  him  to  prosecute  with  unrelaxed 
vigor  the  remaining  objects  of  his  instructions, 
but  to  intermit  haste  in  the  execution  only  so  far 
as  was  compatible  with  final  success. 

This  was  accordingly  done  by  the  first  oppor- 
tunity, in  the  manner  directed.  Champe  de- 
plored the  sad  necessity  which  occurred,  and 
candidly  confessed  that  the  hope  of  enabling 
Washington  to  save  the  life  of  Andre  (who  had 
been  the  subject  of  universal  commiseration  in  the 
American  camp)  greatly  contributed  to  remove 
the  serious  difficulties  which  opposed  his  acceding 
to  the  proposition  when  first  propounded.     Some 


documents  accompanied  this  communication,  tend- 
ing to  prove  the  innocence  of  the  accused  general ; 
thej-  were  completely  satisfactory,  and  did  credit 
to  the  discrimination,  zeal  and  diligence  of  the 
sergeant.  Lee  inclosed  them  immediately  to  the 
commander-in-chief,  who  was  pleased  to  express 
the  satisfaction  he  derived  from  the  information, 
and  to  order  the  major  to  wait  upon  him  the  next 
da}-,  when  the  whole  subject  was  re-examined, 
and  the  distrust  heretofore  entertained  of  the  ac- 
cused was  forever  dismissed.  Nothing  now  re- 
mained to  be  done,  but  the  seizure  and  safe  de- 
liver}- of  Arnold.  To  this  object  Champe  gave 
his  undivided  attention  :  and  on  the  19th  October 
Major  Lee  received  from  him  a  very  particular 
account  of  the  progress  he  had  made,  with  the 
outlines  of  his  plan.  This  was,  without  delay, 
submitted  to  Washington,  with  a  request  for  a 
few  additional  guineas.  The  general's  letter, 
written  on  the  same  day  (20th  October),  evinces 
his  attention  to  the  minutiae  of  business,  as  well 
as  his  immutable  determination  to  possess  Arnold 
alive,  or  not  at  all.  This  was  his  original  injunc- 
tion, which  he  never  omitted  to  enforce  upon  every 
proper  occasion. 

Major  Lee  had  an  opportunity  in  the  course  of 
the  week  of  writing  to  Champe,  when  he  told  him 
that  the  rewards  which  he  had  promised  to  his 
associates  would  be  certainly  paid  on  the  delivery 
of  Arnold  ;  and  in  the  mean  time,  small  sums  of 
money  would  be  furnished  for  casual  expenses,  it 
being  deemed  improper  that  he  should  appear 
with  much,  lest  it  might  lead  to  suspicion  and 
detection.  That  five  guineas  were  now  sent, 
with  a  promise  that  more  would  follow  when  ab- 
solutely necessary. 

Ten  days  elapsed  before  Champe  brought  his 
measures  to  conclusion,  when  Lee  received  from 
him  his  final  communication,  appointing  the  third 
subsequent  night  for  a  party  of  dragoons  to  meet 
him  at  Hoboken,  when  he  hoped  to  deliver  Arnold 
to  the  officer.  Champe  had,  from  his  enlistment 
into  the  American  legion  (Arnold's  corps),  every 
opportunity  he  could  wish,  to  attend  to  the  habits 
of  the  general.  He  discovered  that  it  was  his 
custom  to  return  home  about  twelve  every  night, 
and  that  previous  to  going  to  bed  he  always  visited 
the  garden.  During  this  visit  the  conspirators 
were  to  seize  him,  and  being  prepared  with  a  gag, 
intended  to  have  applied  the  same  instantly. 

Adjoining  the  house  in  which  Arnold  resided, 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


425 


and  in  which  it  was  designed  to  seize  and  gag 
him,  Champe  had  taken  off  several  of  the  palings 
and  replaced  them,  so  that  with  care  and  without 
noise  he  could  readily  open  his  way  to  the  adjoin- 
ing alle}-.  Into  this  alley  he  meant  to  have  con- 
veyed his  prisoner,  aided  by  his  companion,  one 
of  two  associates  who  had  been  introduced  by  the 
friend  to  whom  Champe  had  been  originally  made 
known  by  letter  from  the  commander-in-chief,  and 
with  whose  aid  and  counsel  he  had  so  far  con- 
ducted the  enterprise.  His  other  associate  was 
with  the  boat  prepared  at  one  of  the  wharves  on 
the  Hudson  river,  to  receive  the  party. 

Champe  and  his  friend  intended  to  have  placed 
themselves  each  under  Arnold's  shoulder,  and  to 
have  thus  borne  him  through  the  most  unfre- 
quented alleys  and  streets  to  the  boat  ;  represent- 
ing Arnold,  in  case  of  being  questioned,  as  a 
drunken  soldier  whom  they  were  conveying  to  the 
guard-house. 

When  arrived  at  the  boat  the  difficulties  would 
be  all  surmounted,  there  being  no  danger  nor 
obstacle  in  passing  to  the  Jersey  shore.  These 
particulars,  as  soon  as  known  to  Lee,  were  com- 
municated to  the  commander-in-chief,  who  was 
highly  gratified  with  the  much  desired  intelli- 
gence. He  directed  Major  Lee  to  meet  Champe, 
and  to  take  care  that  Arnold  should  not  be  hurt. 
The  day  arrived,  and  Lee  with  a  party  of  dragoons 
left  camp  late  in  the  evening,  with  three  led  ac- 
coutred horses ;  one  for  Arnold,  one  for  the  ser- 
geant, and  the  third  for  his  associate,  never 
doubting  the  success  of  the  enterprise,  from  the 
tenor  of  the  last  received  communication.  The 
party  reached  Hoboken  about  midnight,  where 
they  were  concealed  in  the  adjoining  wood, — Tee 
with  three  dragoons  stationing  himself  near  the 
river  shore.  Hour  after  hour  passed — no  boat  ap- 
proached. At  length  the  day  broke  and  the 
major  retired  to  his  part}',  and  with  his  led  horses 
returned  to  camp,  when  he  proceeded  to  head- 
quarters to  inform  the  general  of  the  much  la- 
mented disappointment,  as  mortifying  as  inexpli- 
cable. Washington  having  perused  Champe's 
plan  and  communication,  had  indulged  the 
presumption  that  at  length  the  object  of  his  keen 
and  constant  pursuit  was  sure  of  execution,  and 
did  not  dissemble  the  joy  such  conviction  pro- 
duced. He  was  chagrined  at  the  issue,  and  appre- 
hended that  his  faithful  sergeant  must  have  been 
detected  in  the  last  scene  of  his  tedious  and  diffi- 
cult enterprise. 


In  a  few  days,  Lee  received  an  anonymous  letter 
from  Champe's  patron  and  friend,  informing  him 
that  on  the  da}-  preceding  the  night  fixed  for  the 
execution  of  the  plot,  Arnold  had  removed  his 
quarters  to  another  part  of  the  town,  to  superin- 
tend the  embarkation  of  troops,  preparing  (as  was 
rumored)  for  an  expedition  to  be  directed  by  him- 
self; and  that  the  American  legion,  consisting 
chiefly  of  American  deserters,  had  been  transferred 
from  their  barracks  to  one  of  the  transports  ;  it 
being  apprehended  that  if  left  on  shore  until  the 
expedition  was  ready,  many  of  them  might  desert. 
Thus  it  happened  that  John  Champe,  instead  of 
crossing  the  Hudson  that  night,  was  safely  de- 
posited on  board  one  of  the  fleet  of  transports, 
from  whence  he  never  departed  until  the  troops 
under  Arnold  landed  in  Virginia  !  Nor  was  he 
able  to  escape  from  the  British  army  until  after 
the  junction  of  Lord  Cornwallis  at  Petersburg, 
when  he  deserted  ;  and  proceeding  high  up  into 
Virginia,  he  passed  into  North  Carolina  near  the 
Saura  towns,  and  keeping  in  the  friendly  districts 
of  that  state,  safely  joined  the  army  soon  after 
it  had  passed  the  Congaree  in  pursuit  of  Lord 
Rawdon. 

His  appearance  excited  extreme  surprise  among 
his  former  comrades,  which  was  not  a  little  in- 
creased when  thej'  saw  the  cordial  reception  he 
met  with  from  the  late  major,  now  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Lee.  His  whole  story  soon  became  known 
to  the  corps,  which  reproduced  the  love  and 
respect  of  officer  and  soldier  (heretofore  invariably 
entertained  for  the  sergeant),  heightened  by  uni- 
versal admiration  of  his  late  daring  and  arduous 
attempt. 

Champe  was  introduced  to  General  Greene,  who 
very  cheerfully  complied  with  the  promises  made 
by  the  commander-in-chief,  so  far  as  in  his  power  ; 
and  having  provided  the  sergeant  with  a  good 
horse  and  money  for  his  journey,  sent  him  to 
General  Washington,  who  munificently  anticipated 
every  desire  of  the  sergeant,  and  presented  him 
with  his  discharge  from  further  service,  lest  he 
might,  in  the  vicissitudes  of  war,  fall  into  the 
enemy's  hands  ;  when,  if  recognized,  he  was  sure 
to  die  on  a  gibbet. 


THE  PANTHER. 

BY  JAMES   FENIHORE   COOPER. 

BY  this  time  they  gained  the  summit  of  the 
mountain,  where  they  left  the  highway,  and 
pursued  their  course  under  the  shade  of  the  stately 


426 


THE  WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS.,  AND  THE 


trees  that  crowned  the  eminence.  The  day  was 
becoming  warm,  and  the  girls  plunged  more 
deeply  into  the  forest,  as  they  found  its  invigora- 
ting coolness  agreeably  contrasted  to  the  excessive 
heat  they  had  experienced  in  the  ascent.  The 
conversation,  as  if  by  mutual  consent,  was  entirely 
changed  to  the  little  incidents  and  scenes  of  their 
walk,  and  every  tall  pine,  and  even-  shrub  or 
flower,  called  forth  some  simple  expression  of 
admiration. 

In  this  manner  they  proceeded  along  the  margin 
of  the  precipice,  catching  occasional  glimpses  of 
the  placid  Otsego,  or  pausing  to  listen  to  the  rat- 
tling of  wheels  and  the  sounds  of  hammers  that 
rose  from  the  valley,  to  mingle  the  signs  of  men 


As--; 

m 


THE    PANTHER 

with  the  scenes  of  nature,  when  Elizabeth  sud- 
denly started,  and  exclaimed — 

' '  Listen  !  there  are  the  cries  of  a  child  on  this 
mountain  !  Is  there  a  clearing  near  us?  or  can 
some  little  one  have  strayed  from  its  parents  ?" 

"Such  things  frequently  happen,"  returned 
Louisa.  "  Let  us  follow  the  sounds  :  it  may  be  a 
wanderer  starving  on  the  hill." 

Urged  by  this  consideration,  the  females  pur- 
sued the  low,  mournful  sounds  that  proceeded 
from  the  forest,  with  quick  and  impatient  steps. 
More  than  once,  the  ardent  Elizabeth  was  on  the 
point  of  announcing  that  she  saw  the  sufferer, 
when  Louisa  caught  her  by  the  arm,  and  pointing 
behind  them,  cried — 

"  Look  at  the  clog  !" 


Brave  had  been  their  companion,  from  the  time 
the  voice  of  his  young  mistress  lured  him  from 
his  kennel,  to  the  present  moment.  His  advanced 
age  had  long  before  deprived  him  of  his  activity  ; 
and  when  his  companions  stopped  to  view  the 
scenery,  or  to  add  to  their  bouquets,  the  mastiff 
would  lay  his  huge  frame  on  the  ground,  and 
await  their  movements  with  his  e3-es  closed,  and 
a  listlessness  in  his  air  that  ill  accorded  with  the 
character  of  a  protector.  But  when,  aroused  by 
this  cry  from  Louisa,  Miss  Temple  turned,  she 
saw  the  dog  with  his  eyes  keenly  set  on  some  dis- 
tant object,  his  head  bent  near  the  ground,  and 
his  hair  actually  rising  on  his  body,  through 
fright  or  anger.  It  was  most  probably  the  latter, 
for  he  was  growling  in  a  low  key,  and 
occasionally  showing  his  teeth,  in  a 
manner  that  would  have  terrified  his 
mistress,  had  she  not  so  well  known 
his  good  qualities. 

"Brave  !"  she  said,  "  be  quiet,  Bra\e! 
what  do  you  see,  fellow?" 

At  the  sound  of  her  voice,  the  rage 
of  the  mastiff,  instead  of  being  at  all 
diminished,  was  very  sensibly  in- 
creased. He  stalked  in  front  of  the 
ladies,  and  seated  himself  at  the  feet 
of  his  mistress,  growling  louder  than 
before,  and  occasionally  giving  vent  to 
his  ire,  by  a  short,  surly  barking. 

"  What  does  he  see?"  said  Eliza- 
beth ;  "  there  must  be  some  animal  in 
sight." 

Hearing  no  answer  from  her  com- 
panion, Miss  Temple  turned  her  head, 
and  beheld  Louisa  standing  with  her  face  whit- 
ened to  the  color  of  death,  and  her  finger  pointing 
upwards,  with  a  sort  of  flickering,  convulsed  mo- 
tion. The  quick  eye  of  Elizabeth  glanced  in  the 
direction  indicated  by  her  friend,  where  she  saw 
the  fierce  front  and  glaring  eyes  of  a  female  pan- 
ther, fixed  on  them  in  horrid  malignity,  and 
threatening  to  leap. 

"Let  us  fly,"  exclaimed  Elizabeth,  grasping 
the  arm  of  Louisa,  whose  form  yielded  like  melt- 
ing snow. 

There  was  not  a  single  feeling  in  the  tempera- 
ment of  Elizabeth  Temple  that  could  prompt  her 
to  desert  a  companion  in  such  an  extremity.  She 
fell  on  her  knees,  by  the  side  of  the  inanimate 
Louisa,  tearing  from  the  person  of  her  friend,  with 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


427 


instinctive  readiness,  such  parts  of  her  dress  as 
might  obstruct  her  respiration,  and  encouraging 
their  only  safeguard,  the  dog,  at  the  same  time, 
by  the  sound  of  her  voice. 

"Courage,  Brave!"  she  cried,  her  own  tones 
beginning  to  tremble,  "courage,  courage,  good 
Brave  !" 

A  quarter-grown  cub,  that  had  hitherto  been 
unseen,  now  appeared,  dropping  from  the  branches 
of  a  sapling  that  grew  under  the  shade  of  the 
beech  which  held  its  dam.  This  ignorant,  but 
vicious  creature,  approached  the  dog,  imitating 
the  actions  and  sounds  of  its  parent,  but  exhibit- 
ing a  strange  mixture  of  the  playfulness  of  a  kit- 
ten with  the  ferocity  of  its  race.  Standing  on  its 
hind  legs,  it  would  rend  the  bark  of  a  tree  with 
its  fore  paws,  and  play  the  antics  of  a  cat ;  and 
then,  by  lashing  itself  with  its  tail,  growling,  and 
scratching  the  earth,  it  would  attempt  the  mani- 
festations of  anger  that  rendered  its  parent  so 
terrific. 

All  this  time  Brave  stood  firm  and  undaunted, 
his  short  tail  erect,  his  body  drawn  backward  on 
its  haunches,  and  his  eyes  following  the  move- 
ments of  both  dam  and  cub.  At  every  gambol 
played  by  the  latter,  it  approached  nigher  to  the 
dog,  the  growling  of  the  three  becoming  more 
horrid  at  each  movement,  until  the  younger  beast 
overleaping  its  intended  bound,  fell  directly  before 
the  mastiff.  There  was  a  moment  of  fearful  cries 
and  struggles,  but  they  ended  almost  as  soon  as 
commenced,  by  the  cub  appearing  in  the  air, 
hurled  from  the  jaws  of  Brave,  with  a  violence 
that  sent  it  against  a  tree  so  forcibly  as  to  render 
it  completely  senseless. 

Elizabeth  witnessed  the  short  struggle,  and  her 
blood  was  warming  with  the  triumph  of  the  dog, 
when  she  saw  the  form  of  the  old  panther  in  the 
air,  springing  twenty  feet  from  the  branch  of  the 
beech  to  the  back  of  the  mastiff.  No  words  of 
ours  can  describe  the  fury  of  the  conflict  that  fol- 
lowed. It  was  a  confused  struggle  on  the  dry 
leaves,  accompanied  by  loud  and  terrific  cries. 
Miss  Temple  continued  on  her  knees,  bending 
over  the  form  of  Louisa,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
animals,  with  an  interest  so  horrid,  and  yet  so 
intense,  that  she  almost  forgot  her  own  stake  in 
the  result.  So  rapid  and  vigorous  were  the  bounds 
of  the  inhabitant  of  the  forest,  that  its  active  frame 
seemed  constantly  in  the  air,  while  the  dog  nobly 
faced  his  foe  at  each  successive  leap.     When  the 


panther  lighted  on  the  shoulders  of  the  mastiff, 
which  was  its  constant  aim,  old  Brave,  though 
torn  with  her  claws,  and  stained  with  his  own 
blood,  that  already  flowed  from  a  dozen  wounds, 
would  shake  off  his  furious  foe  like  a  feather,  and 
rearing  on  his  hind  legs,  rush  to  the  fray  again, 
with  jaws  distended,  and  a  dauntless  eye.  But 
age,  and  his  pampered  life,  great^-  disqualified 
the  noble  mastiff  for  such  a  struggle.  In  every- 
thing but  courage,  he  was  only  the  vestige  of 
what  he  had  once  been.  A  higher  bound  than 
ever,  raised  the  wary  and  furious  beast  far  beyond 
the  reach  of  the  dog,  who  was  making  a  desperate 
but  fruitless  dash  at  her,  from  which  she  alighted 
in  a  favorable  position  on  the  back  of  her  aged 
foe.  For  a  single  moment  only  could  the  panther 
remain  there,  the  '  great  strength  of  the  dog 
returning  with  a  convulsive  effort.  But  Elizabeth 
saw,  as  Brave  fastened  his  teeth  in  the  side  of  his 
enemy,  that  the  collar  of  brass  around  his  neck, 
which  had  been  glittering  throughout  the  fray, 
was  of  the  color  of  blood,  and  directly,  that  his 
frame  was  sinking  to  the  earth,  where  it  soon  lay 
prostrate  and  helpless.  Several  mighty  efforts  of 
the  wild-cat  to  extricate  herself  from  the  jaws  of 
the  dog  followed,  but  they  were  fruitless,  until 
the  mastiff  turned  on  his  back,  his  lips  collapsed, 
and  his  teeth  loosened,  when  the  short  convul- 
sions and  stillness  that  ensued,  announced  the 
death  of  poor  Brave. 

Elizabeth  now  lay  wholly  at  the  mercy  of  the 
beast.  There  is  said  to  be  something  in  the  front 
of  the  image  of  the  Maker  that  daunts  the  hearts 
of  the  inferior  beings  of  his  creation  ;  and  it  would 
seem  that  some  such  power,  in  the  present  instance, 
suspended  the  threatened  blow.  The  eyes  of  the 
monster  and  the  kneeling  maiden  met  for  an  in- 
stant, when  the  former  stooped  to  examine  her 
fallen  foe  ;  next  to  scent  her  luckless  cub.  From 
the  latter  examination,  it  turned,  however,  with 
its  eyes  apparently  emitting  flashes  of  fire,  its  tail 
lashing  its  sides  furiously,  and  its  claws  projecting 
inches  from  her  broad  feet. 

Miss  Temple  did  not  or  could  not  move.  Her 
hands  were  clasped  in  the  attitude  of  prayer,  but 
her  eyes  were  still  drawn  to  her  terrible  enemy — 
her  cheeks  were  blanched  to  the  whiteness  of 
marble,  and  her  lips  were  slightly  separated  with 
horror. 

The  moment  seemed  now  to  have  arrived  for 
the  fatal  termination,  and  the  beautiful  figure  of 


428       THE  WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND  THE  BEAUTIFUL. 


Elizabeth  was  bowing  meekly  to  the  stroke,  when 
a  rustling  of  leaves  behind  seemed  rather  to  mock 
the  organs  than  to  meet  her  ears. 

"  Hist  !  hist  !"  said  a  low  voice,  "  stoop  lower, 
gal  ;  your  bonnet  hides  the  creater's  head." 

It  was  rather  the  yielding  of  nature  than  a  com- 
pliance with  this  unexpected  order,  that  caused 


A   MOMENT   OF   TERROR. 

the  head  of  our  heroine  to  sink  on  her  bosom  ; 
when  she  heard  the  report  of  the  rifle  ;  the  whiz- 
zing of  the  bullet,  and  the  enraged  cries  of  the 
beast,  who  was  rolling  over  on  the  earth  biting 
its  own  flesh,  and  tearing  the  twigs  and  branches 
within  its  reach.  At  the  next  instant  the  form  of 
the  Leather-stocking  rushed  by  her.  and  he  called 
aloud — 


"  Come   in,    Hector,  come   in,  old   fool;  'tis  a 
hard-lived  animal,  and  ma}'  jump  agin." 

Natty  fearlessly  maintained  his  position  in  front 
of  the  females,  notwithstanding  the  violent 
bounds  and  threatening  aspect  of  the  wounded 
panther,  which  gave  several  indications  of  return- 
ing strength  and  ferocity,  until  his  rifle  was  agair. 
loaded,  when  he  stepped  up  to  the  enraged 
animal,  and  placing  the  muzzle  ck,se  to  its 
head,  even-  spark  of  life  was  extinguished 
by  the  discharge. 


r 


THE  WHITE  STONE  CANOE.— AN  INDIAN 
LEGEND. 

BY    HENRY   ROWE   SCHOOLCRAFT. 

HERE  was  once  a  very  beautiful  young 
girl,  who  died  suddenly  on  the  day 
she  was  to  have  been  married  to  a  hand- 
some young  man.  He  was  also  brave,  but 
his  heart  was  not  proof  against  this  loss. 
From  the  hour  she  was  buried,  there  was  no 
more  joy  or  peace  for  him.  He  went  often 
to  visit  the  spot  where  the  women  had  buried 
her,  and  sat  musing  there,  when,  it  was 
thought,  by  some  of  his  friends,  he  would 
have  done  better  to  try  to  amuse  himself  in 
the  chase,  or  by  diverting  his  thoughts  in 
the  war-path.  But  war  and  hunting  had 
both  lost  their  charms  for  him.  His  heart 
was  already  dead  within  him.  He  pushed 
aside  both  his  war-club  and  his  bow  and 
arrows. 

He  had  heard  the  old  people  sa}-,  that 
there  was  a  path  that  led  to  the  land  of 
souls,  and  he  determined  to  follow  it.  He 
accordingly  set  out,  one  morning,  after  hav- 
ing completed  his  preparations  for  the  jour- 
ney. At  first  he  hardty  knew  which  way 
to  go.  He  was  only  guided  by  the  tradition 
that  he  must  go  south.  For  a  while,  he 
could  see  no  change  in  the  face  of  the 
country.  Forests,  and  hills,  and  valleys, 
and  streams  had  the  same  looks,  which 
they  wore  in  his  native  place.  There  was 
snow  on  the  ground,  when  he  set  out,  and  it 
was  sometimes  seen  to  be  piled  and  matted 
on  the  thick  trees  and  bushes.  At  length,  it 
began  to  diminish,  and  filially  disappeared.  The 
forest  assumed  a  more  cheerful  appearance,  the 
leaves  put  forth  their  buds,  and  before  he  was 
aware  of  the  completeness  of  his  change,  he  found 


i.y.-. 


THE    IMMORTALS. 


(429) 


430 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


himself  surrounded  by  spring.  He  had  left  be- 
hind him  the  land  of  snow  and  ice.  The  air  be- 
came mild,  the  dark  clouds  of  winter  had  rolled 
away  from  the  sky  ;  a  pure  field  of  blue  was  above 
him,  and  as  he  went  he  saw  flowers  beside  his 
path,  and  heard  the  songs  of  birds.  By  these 
signs  he  knew  that  he  was  going  the  right  way, 
for  they  agreed  with  the  traditions  of  his  tribe. 
At  length  he  spied  a  path.  It  led  him  through  a 
grove,  then  up  a  long  and  elevated  ridge,  on  the 
very  top  of  which  he  came  to  a  lodge.  At  the 
door  stood  an  old  man,  with  white  hair,  whose 
eyes,  though  deeply  sunk,  had  a  fiery  brilliancy. 
He  had  a  long  robe  of  skins  thrown  loosely  around 
his  shoulders,  and  a  staff  in  his  hands. 

The  young  Chippewayan  began  to  tell  his  story  ; 
but  the  venerable  chief  arrested  him,  before  he 
had  proceeded  to  speak  ten  words.  ' '  I  have  ex- 
pected you,"  he  replied,  "and  had  just  risen  to 
bid  you  welcome  to  my  abode.  She,  whom  you 
seek,  passed  here  but  a  few  days  since,  and  being 
fatigued  with  her  journey,  rested  herself  here. 
Enter  my  lodge  and  be  seated,  and  I  will  then 
satisfy  your  enquiries,  and  give  you  directions  for 
your  journey  from  this  point."  Having  done 
this,  they  both  issued  forth  to  the  lodge  door. 
"You  see  yonder  gulf,"  said  he,  "  and  the  wide 
stretching  blue  plains  beyond.  It  is  the  land  of 
souls.  You  stand  upon  its  borders,  and  my  lodge 
is  the  gate  of  entrance.  But  you  cannot  take 
your  body  along.  Leave  it  here  with  your  bow 
and  arrows,  your  bundle  and  your  dog.  You  will 
find  them  safe  on  your  return."  So  saying,  he 
re-entered  the  lodge,  and  the  freed  traveller 
bounded  forward,  as  if  his  feet  had  suddenly  been 
endowed  with  the  power  of  wings.  But  all  things 
retained  their  natural  colors  and  shapes.  The 
woods  and  leaves,  and  streams  and  lakes,  were 
only  more  bright  and  comely  than  he  had  ever 
witnessed.  Animals  bounded  across  his  path, 
with  a  freedom  and  a  confidence  which  seemed  to 
tell  him,  there  was  no  bloodshed  here.  Birds  of 
beautiful  plumage  inhabited  the  groves,  and 
sported  in  the  waters.  There  was  but  one  thing, 
in  which  he  saw  a  very  unusual  effect.  He  noticed 
that  his  passage  was  not  stopped  by  trees  or  other 
objects.  He  appeared  to  walk  directly  through 
them.  They  were,  in  fact,  but  the  souls  or 
shadows  of  material  trees.  He  became  sensible 
that  he  was  in  a  land  of  shadows.  When  he  had 
travelled  half  a  day's  journey,  through  a  country 


which  was  continually  becoming  more  attractive, 
he  came  to  the  banks  of  a  broad  lake,  in  the  centre 
of  which  was  a  large  and  beautiful  island.  He 
found  a  canoe  of  shining  white  stone,  tied  to  the 
shore.  He  was  now  sure  that  he  had  come  the 
right  path,  for  the  aged  man  had  told  him  of  this. 
There  were  also  shining  paddles.  He  immediately 
entered  the  canoe,  and  took  the  paddles  in  his 
hands,  when  to  his  joy  and  surprise,  on  turn- 
ing round,  he  beheld  the  object  of  his  search  in 
another  canoe,  exactly  its  counterpart  in  every- 
thing. She  had  exacts*  imitated  his  motions, 
and  they  were  side  by  side.  They  at  once  pushed 
out  from  shore  and  began  to  cross  the  lake.  Its 
waves  seemed  to  be  rising,  and  at  a  distance  looked 
ready  to  swallow  them  up  ;  but  just  as  they  en- 
tered the  whitened  edge  of  them  they  seemed  to 
melt  away,  as  if  they  were  but  the  images  of 
waves.  But  no  sooner  was  one  wreath  of  foam 
passed,  than  another,  more  threatening  still,  rose 
up.  Thus  they  were  in  perpetual  fear  ;  and  what 
added  to  it,  was  the  clearness  of  the  water, 
through  which  they  could  see  heaps  of  beings  who 
had  perished  before,  and  whose  bones  lay  strewed 
on  the  bottom  of  the  lake.  The  Master  of  Life 
had,  however,  decreed  to  let  them  pass,  for  the 
actions  of  neither  of  them  had  been  bad.  But 
thej'  saw  man}-  others  struggling  and  sinking  in 
the  waves.  Old  men  and  young  men,  males  and 
females  of  all  ages  and  ranks  were  there  ;  some 
passed,  and  some  sank.  It  was  only  the  little 
children  whose  canoes  met  no  waves."  At  length 
every  difficulty  was  gone,  as  in  a  moment, 
and  they  both  leapt  out  on  the  happy  island. 
They  felt  that  the  very  air  was  food.  It  strength- 
ened and  nourished  them.  The}'  wandered  to- 
gether over  the  blissful  fields,  where  everything 
was  formed  to  please  the  eye  and  the  ear.  There 
were  no  tempests — there  was  no  ice,  no  chilly 
winds — no  one  shivered  for  the  want  of  warm 
clothes :  no  one  suffered  for  hunger — no  one 
mourned  for  the  dead.  They  saw  no  graves. 
They  heard  of  no  wars.  There  was  no  hunting 
of  animals  ;  for  the  air  itself  was  their  food. 
Gladly  would  the  young  warrior  have  remained 
there  for  ever,  but  he  was  obliged  to  go  back  for 
his  body.  He  did  not  see  the  Master  of  Life,  but 
he  heard  his  voice  in  a  soft  breeze  :  "Go  back," 
said  this  voice,  "to  the  land  from  whence  you 
came.  Your  time  has  not  yet  come.  The  duties 
for  which  I  made  you,  and  which  you  are  to  per- 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


43i 


form,  are  not  yet  finished.     Return  to  your  peo-      my  messenger,  who  keeps   the  gate.     When  he 
pie,  and  accomplish  the  duties  of  a  good  man.      surrenders  back  your  body,  he  will  tell  you  what 


You  will  be  the  ruler  of  your  tribe  for  many  days,      to  do.     Listen  to  him,  and  you  shall  afterwards 
The  rules  you  must  observe,  will  be  told  you  by      rejoin  the  spirit,  which  you  must  now  leave  be- 


432 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AXD   THE 


hind.  She  is  accepted  and  will  be  ever  here,  as 
young  and  as  happy  as  she  was  when  I  first  called 
her  from  the  land  of  snows."  "When  this  voice 
ceased,  the  narrator  awoke.  It  was  the  fancy 
work  of  a  dream,  and  he  was  still  in  the  bitter 
land  of  snows,  and  hunger,  and  tears. 


DEERSLAYER    AT  THE    DEATH  OF    HIS    SAV- 
AGE  FOE. 

BY   JAMES    FEXIMORE    COOPER. 

BY  this  time  the  piece  was  reloaded,  and  Deer- 
slayer,  after  tossing  the  tomahawk  into  the 
canoe,  advanced  to  his  victim,  and  stood  over 
him,  leaning  on  his  rifle,  in  melancholy  attention. 
It  was  the  first  instance  in  which  he  had  seen  a 
man  fall  in  battle.  It  was  the  first  fellow-creature 
against  whom  he  had  ever  seriously  raised  his 
own  hand  The  sensations  were  novel;  and 
regret,  with  the  freshness  of  our  better  feelings, 
mingled  with  his  triumph.  The  Indian  was  not 
dead,  though  shot  directly  through  the  bod}-. 
He  lay-  on  his  back  motionless,  but  his  eyes,  now 
full  of  consciousness,  watched  each  action  of 
his  victor — as  the  fallen  bird  regards  the  fowler — 
jealous  of  even-  movement.  The  man  probably 
expected  the  fatal  blow  which  was  to  precede  the 
loss  of  his  scalp  ;  or  perhaps  he  anticipated  his 
death.  Deerslayer  read  his  thoughts ;  and  he 
found  a  melancholy  satisfaction  in  relieving  the 
apprehensions  of  the  helpless  savage. 

"  Xo,  no,  red-skin,"  he  said  :  "  you've  nothing 
more  to  fear  from  me.  I  am  of  a  Christian  stock 
and  scalping  is  not  of  my  gifts.  I'll  just  make  sar- 
tain  of  your  rifle,  and  then  come  back  and  do  you 
what  sarvice  I  can.  Though  here  I  can't  stay 
rnuch  longer,  as  the  crack  of  three  rifles  will  be 
apt  to  bring  some  of  your  devils  upon  me." 

The  close  of  this  was  said  in  a  sort  of  soliloquy, 
as  the  young  man  went  in  quest  of  the  fallen  rifle. 
The  piece  was  found  where  its  owner  had  dropped 
it,  and  was  immediately  put  into  the  canoe.  Lay- 
ing his  own  rifle  at  his  side,  Deerslayer  then  re- 
turned and  stood  over  the  Indian  again. 

"  All  inmity  atween  you  and  me's  at  an  ind, 
red-skin,"  lie  said  ;  "  and  you  may  set  your  heart 
at  rest  on  the  score  of  the  scalp,  or  any  further  in- 
jury. My  gifts  are  white,  as  I've  told  you  ;  and 
I  hope  my  conduct  will  be  white  also  ! ' ' 

Could  looks  have  conveyed  all  the}-  meant, 
it   is  probable  Deer  slayer's  innocent  vanity  on 


the  subject  of  color  would  have  been  rebuked 
a  little  :  but  he  comprehended  the  gratitude  that 
was  expressed  in  the  eyes  of  the  dying  savage, 
without  in  the  least  detecting  the  bitter  sarcasm 
that  struggled  with  the  better  feeling. 

"  Water  !  "  ejaculated  the  thirsty  and  unfortu- 
nate creature  ;   "  give  poor  Injin  water." 

"Aye,  water  you  shall  have,  if  you  drink  the 
lake  dry.  I'll  jus'  carry  you  down  to  it,  that  you 
may  take  your  fill.  This  is  the  way,  they  tell  me, 
with  all  wounded  people — water  is  their  greatest 
comfort  and  delight." 

So  saying,  Deerslayer  raised  the  Indian  in  his 
arms,  and  carried  him  to  the  lake.  Here  he  first 
helped  him  to  take  an  attitude  in  which  he  could 
appease  his  burning  thirst  ;  after  which  he  seated 
himself  on  a  stone,  and  took  the  head  of  his 
wounded  adversary  in  his  own  lap,  and  endea- 
vored to  soothe  his  anguish  in  the  best  manner  he 
could. 

"  It  would  be  sinful  in  me  to  tell  you  your  time 
hadn't  come,  warrior,"  he  commenced,  and  there- 
fore I'll  not  say  it.  You've  passed  the  middle  age 
already,  and,  considerin'  the  sort  of  lives  ye  lead, 
your  days  have  been  pretty  well  filled.  The  prin- 
cipal thing  now,  is  to  look  forward  to  what  comes 
next.  Neither  red-skin  nor  pale-face,  on  the 
whole,  calculates  much  on  sleepin'  for  ever  ;  but 
both  expect  to  live  in  another  world.  Each  has 
his  gifts,  and  will  be  judged  by  'em,  and  I  sup- 
pose, you've  thought  these  matters  over  enough 
not  to  stand  in  need  of  sarmons  when  the  trial 
conies.  You'll  find  your  happy  hunting-ground, 
if  you've  been  a  just  Injin  ;  if  an  unjust,  you'll 
meet  your  desarts  in  another  way.  I've  my  own 
idees  about  these  things  ;  but  you're  too  old  and 
experienced  to  need  any  explanations  from  one  as 
young  as  I." 

"Good!"  ejaculated  the  Indian,  whose  voice 
retained  its  depth  even  as  life  ebbed  away;  "  young 
head — ole  wisdom  ! ' ' 

"It's  sometimes  a  consolation,  when  the  ind 
comes,  to  know  that  them  we've  harmed  or  tried 
to  harm,  forgive  us.  I  suppose  natur'  seeks  this 
relief,  by  way  of  getting  a  pardon  on  'arth  ;  as  we 
never  can  know  whether  He  pardons,  who  is  all 
in  all.  till  judgment  itself  comes.  It's  soothing 
to  know  that  any  pardon  at  such  times  ;  and  that, 
I  conclude,  is  the  secret.  Now,  as  for  myself,  I 
overlook  altogether  your  designs  ag'in  my  life  : 
first  because  no  harm  came  of  'em  :  next,  because 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


433 


It's  your  gifts,  and  natur',  and  trainin',  and  I 
ought  not  to  have  trusted  you  at  all ;  and,  finally 
and  chiefly,  because  I  can  bear  no  ill-will  to  a 
dying  man,  whether  heathen  or  Christian.  So 
put  your  heart  at  ease,  so  far  as  I'm  consarned  ; 
you  know  best  what  other  matters  ought  to  trou- 
ble you,  or  what  ought  to  give  you  satisfaction  in 
so  trying  a. moment." 

It  is  probable  that  the  Indian  had  some  of  the 
fearful  glimpses  of  the  unknown  state  of  being 
which  God  in  mere)-  seems  at  times  to  afford  to  all 
the  human  race  ;  but  the}-  were  necessarily  in  con- 
formity with  his  habits  and  prejudices.  Like  most 
of  his  people,  and  like  too  many  of  our  own,  he 
thought  more  of  dying  in  a  way  to  gain  applause 
among  those  he  left  than  to  secure  a  better  state 
of  existence  hereafter.  While  Deerslayer  was 
speaking  his  mind  was  a  little  bewildered,  though 
he  felt  that  the  intention  was  good  ;  and  when  he 
had  done,  a  regret  passed  over  his  spirit  that  none 
of  his  own  tribe  were  present  to  witness  his  stoi- 
cism, under  extreme  bodily  suffering,  and  the 
firmness  with  which  he  met  his  end.  With  the 
high  innate  courtesy  that  so  often  distinguishes 
the  Indian  warrior  before  he  becomes  corrupted 
by  too  much  intercourse  with  the  worst  class  of 
the  white  men,  he  endeavored  to  express  his 
thankfulness  for  the  other's  good  intentions,  and 
to  let  him  understand  that  they  were  appreciated. 

' '  Good  ! "  he  repeated  for  this  was  an  English 
word  much  used  by  the  savages — "good — young 
head  ;  young  heart,  too.  Old  heart  tough  ;  no 
shed  tear.  Hear  Indian  when  he  die,  and  no 
want  to  lie — what  he  call  him  ?  ' ' 

"  Deerslayer  is  the  name  I  bear  now,  though 
the  Delawares  have  said  that  when  I  get  back 
from  this  war-path,  I  shall  have  a  more  manly 
title,  provided  I  can  'am  one." 

"  That  good  name  for  boy — poor  name  for  war- 
rior. He  get  better  quick.  Xo  fear  there" — the 
savage  had  strength  sufficient,  under  the  strong 
excitement  he  felt,  to  raise  a  hand  and  tap  the 
young  man  on  his  breast — "eye  sartain — finger 
lightning — aim,  death — great  warrior  soon.  Xo 
Deerslayer  —  Hawkeye  —  Hawkeye  —  Hawkeye. 
Shake  hand." 

Deerslayer — or  Hawkeye,  as  the  youth  was 
then  first  named,  for  in  after  years  he  bore  the 
appellation  throughout  all  that  region — Deerslayer 
took  the  hand  of  the  savage,  whose  last  breath 
was  drawn  in  that  attitude,  gazing  in  admiration 

23 


at  the  countenance  of  a  stranger  who  had  shown 
so  much  readiness,  skill,  and  firmness,  in  a  scene 
that  was  equally  trying  and  novel.  When  the 
reader  remembers  it  is  the  highest  gratification  an 
Indian  can  receive  to  see  his  enemy  betray  weak- 
ness, he  will  be  better  able  to  appreciate  the  con- 
duct which  had  extorted  so  great  a  concession  at 
such  a  moment. 

"His  spirit  has  fled  !"  said  Deerslayer,  in  a  sup- 
pressed, melancholy  voice.  "Ah's  me  !  Well,  to 
this  we  must  all  come,  sooner  or  later  ;  and  he  is 
happiest,  let  his  skin  be  of  what  color  it  may,  who 
is  best  fitted  to  meet  it.  Here  lies  the  body  of  no 
doubt  a  brave  warrior,  and  the  soul  is  already  fly- 
ing towards  its  heaven  or  hell,  whether  that  be  a 
happy  hunting-ground,  a  place  scant  of  game ; 
regions  of  glory,  according  to  Moravian  doctrine, 
or  flames  of  fire  !  So  it  happens,  too,  as  regards 
other  matters  !  Here  have  old  Hutter  and  Hurry 
Harry  got  themselves  into  difficult}',  if  they 
haven't  got  themselves  into  torment  and  death,  and 
all  for  a  bounty  that  luck  offers  to  me  in  what 
many  would  think  a  lawful  and  suitable  manner. 
But  not  a  farthing  of  such  money  shall  cross  my 
hand.  White  I  was  born,  and  white  will  I  die  ; 
clinging  to  color  to  the  last,  even  though  the 
King's  Majesty,  his  governors,  and  all  his  coun- 
cils, both  at  home  and  in  the  Colonies,  forget  from 
what  they  come,  and  where  they  hope  to  go,  and 
all  for  a  little  advantage  in  warfare.  No,  no — 
warrior,  hand  of  mine  shall  never  molest  your 
scalp,  and  so  your  soul  may  rest  in  peace  on  the 
point  of  making  a  decent  appearance,  when  the 
body  comes  to  join  it,  in  your  own  land  of  spirits." 

Deerslayer  arose  as  soon  as  he  had  spoken. 
Then  he  placed  the  body  of  the  dead  man  in  a 
sitting  posture,  with  its  back  against  the  little 
rock,  taking  the  necessary  care  to  prevent  it  from 
falling  or  in  any  way  settling  into  an  attitude  that 
might  be  thought  unseemly  by  the  sensitive, 
though  wild  notions  of  a  savage.  When  this  duty 
was  performed,  the  young  man  stood  gazing  at 
the  grim  countenance  of  his  fallen  foe,  in  a  sort 
of  meiancnoly  abstraction. 


DESTRUCTION     OF     CHRISTIANS     BY     WILD 
BEASTS  IN  THE  ROMAN  AMPHITHEATRE. 

IN  183S,  Rev.  William  Ware,  of  Brookliue,  Mass., 
published  in  the  "  Knickerbocker  Magazine," 
a  series  of  letters  purporting  to  have  been  written 


o 

Pi 

» 


1434) 


THE   BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S  HISTORY. 


435 


by  a  young  Roman  Christian  from  the  Imperial 
city  during  the  period  of  the  persecution  of  Chris- 
tians which  preceded  the  accession  of  Constantine. 
They  are  among  the  most  successful  efforts  to  re- 
store to  the  modern  reader  the  every-day  life  of 
the  Roman  Empire,  and  are  exceedingly  graphic 
in  their  portrayal  of  the  sanguinary  scenes  en- 
acted at  that  time.  They  are  based  upon  histori- 
cal representations,  and,  though  wholly  imagin- 
ary, are  supposed  to  accurately  describe  what 
really  took  place : 

The  long  peal  of  trumpets,  and  the  shouts  of 
the  people  without  gave  note  of  the  approach  and 
entrance  of  the  Emperor.  In  a  moment  more, 
with  his  swift  step,  he  entered  the  amphitheatre, 
and  strode  to  the  place  set  apart  for  him,  the 
whole  multitude  rising  and  saluting  him  with  a 
burst  of  welcome  that  might  have  been  heard  be- 
yond the  walls  of  Rome.  The  Emperor  acknowl- 
edged the  salutation  by  rising  from  his  seat  and 
lifting  the  crown  from  his  head.  He  was  in- 
stantly seated  again,  and  at  a  sign  from  him  the 
herald  made  proclamation  of  the  entertainments 
which  were  to  follow.  He  who  was  named  as  the 
first  to  suffer  was  Probus. 

When  I  heard  his  name  pronounced,  with  the 
punishment  which  awaited  him,  my  resolution  to 
remain  forsook  me,  and  I  turned  to  rush  from  the 
theatre.  But  my  recollection  of  Probus' s  earnest 
entreaties  that  I  would  be  there,  restrained  me, 
and  I  returned  to  my  seat.  I  considered,  that  as 
I  would  attend  the  dying  bed  of  a  friend,  so  I  was 
clearly  bound  to  remain  where  I  was,  and  wait 
for  the  last  moments  of  this  my  more  than  Chris- 
tian friend  ;  and  the  circumstance  that  his  death 
wis  to  be  shocking  and  harrowing  to  the  friendly 
heart,  was  not  enough  to  absolve  me  from  the 
heavy  obligation.  I  therefore  kept  my  place,  and 
awaited  with  patience  the  event. 

I  had  waited  not  long  when,  from  beneath  that 
extremity  of  the  theatre  where  I  was  sitting,  Pro- 
bus  was  led  forth  and  conducted  to  the  centre  of 
the  arena,  where  was  a  short  pillar  to  which  it 
was  customary  to  bind  the  sufferers.  Probus,  as 
he  entered,  seemed  rather  like  one  who  came  to 
witness  what  was  there,  than  to  be  himself  a  vic- 
tim, so  free  was  his  step,  so  erect  his  form.  In 
his  face  there  might  indeed  be  seen  an  expression, 
that  could  only  dwell  on  the  countenance  of  one 
whose  spirit  was  already  gone  beyond  the  earth, 
and  holding  converse  with  things  unseen.    There 


was  always  much  of  this  in  the  serene,  uplifted  face 
of  this  remarkable  man  ;  but  it  was  now  there 
written  in  lines  so  bold  and  deep,  that  there  could 
have  been  few  in  that  vast  assembly  but  must  have 
been  impressed  by  it  as  never  before  by  aught 
human.  It  must  have  been  this  which  brought 
so  deep  a  silence  upon  that  great  multitude — not 
the  mere  fact  that  an  individual  was  about  to  be 
torn  by  lions — that  is  an  almost  daily  pastime. 
For  it  was  so,  that  when  he  first  made  his  appear- 
ance, and,  as  he  moved  toward  the  centre,  turned 
and  looked  round  upon  the  crowded  seats  rising 
to  the  heavens,  the  people  neither  moved  nor 
spoke,  but  kept  their  eyes  fastened  upon  him  as 
by  some  spell  which  they  could  not  break. 

When  he  had  reached  the  pillar,  and  he  who 
had  conducted  him  was  about  to  bind  him  to  it, 
it  was  plain,  by  what  at  that  distance  we  could 
observe,  that  Probus  was  entreating  him  to  desist 
and  leave  him  at  liberty  ;  in  which  he  at  length 
succeeded,  for  that  person  returned,  leaving  him 
alone  and  unbound.  O  sight  of  misery  !  he  who 
for  the  humblest  there  present  would  have  per- 
formed any  office  of  love,  by  w'.ilch  the  least  good 
should  redound  to  him,  left  alone  and  defenceless, 
they  looking  on  and  scarcely  pitying  his  cruel 
fate  ! 

When  now  he  had  stood  there  not  many  min- 
utes, one  of  the  doors  of  the  vivaria  was  suddenly 
thrown  back,  and  bounding  forth  with  a  roar  that 
seemed  to  shake  the  walls  of  the  theatre,  a  lion  of 
huge  dimensions  leaped  upon  the  arena.  Majesty 
and  power  were  inscribed  upon  his  lordly  limbs  ; 
and  as  he  stood  there  where  he  had  first  sprung, 
and  looked  round  upon  the  multitude,  how  did 
his  gentle  eye  and  noble  carriage,  with  which 
no  one  for  a  moment  could  associate  meanness, 
or  cruelty,  or  revenge,  cast  shame  upon  the  hu- 
man monsters  assembled  to  behold  a  solitary, 
unarmed  man  torn  limb  from  limb  !  When  he 
had  in  this  way  looked  upon  that  cloud  of  faces, 
he  then  turned  and  moved  round  the  arena 
through  its  whole  circumference,  still  looking 
upwards  upon  those  who  filled  the  seats — not 
till  he  had  come  again  to  the  point  from  which 
he  started,  so  much  as  noticing  who  stood,  his 
victim,  in  the  midst.  Then,  as  if  apparently  for 
the  first  time  becoming  conscious  of  his  presence, 
he  caught  the  form  of  Probus ;  and  moving 
slowly  towards  him,  looked  steadfastly  upon 
him,  receiving  in  return  the  settled  gaze  of  the 


436 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


Christian.  Standing  there  still  awhile — each 
locking  upon  the  other — he  then  walked  round 
him,  then  approached  nearer,  making  suddenly 
and  for  a  moment  those  motions  which  indicate 
the  roused  appetite  ;  but  as  it  were  in  the  spirit 
of  self-rebuke,  he  immediately  retreated  a  few 
paces  and  lay  down  in  the  sand,  stretching  out 
his  head  towards  Probus,  and  closing  his  eyes 
as  if  for  sleep. 

The  people,  who  had  watched  in  silence,  and 
■with  the  interest  of  those  who  wait  for  their  en- 
tertainment, were  both  amazed  and  vexed  at  what 
now  appeared  to  be  the  dulness  and  stupidity  of 
the  beast.  When,  however,  he  moved  not  from 
his  place,  but  seemed  as  if  he  were  indeed  about 
to  fall  into  a  quiet  sleep,  those  who  occupied  the 
lower  seats  began  both  to  cry  out  to  him  and 
shake  at  him  their  caps,  and  toss  about  their  arms 
in  the  hope  to  rouse  him.  But  it  was  all  in  vain  ; 
and  at  the  command  of  the  Emperor  he  was  driven 
back  to  his  den. 

Again  a  door  of  the  vivaria  was  thrown  open, 
and  another  of  equal  size,  but  of  a  more  alert  and 
rapid  step,  broke  forth,  and,  as  if  delighted  with 
his  sudden  liberty  and  the  ample  range,  coursed 
round  and  round  the  arena,  wholly  regardless 
both  of  the  people  and  of  Probus,  intent  only  as 
it  seemed  upon  his  own  amusement.  And  when 
at  length  he  discovered  Probus  standing  at  his 
place,  it  was  but  to  bound  towards  him  as  in 
frolic,  and  then  wheel  away  in  pursuit  of  a  plea- 
sure he  esteemed  more  highly  than  the  satisfy- 
ing of  his  hunger. 

At  this,  the  people  were  not  a  little  astonished, 
and  many  who  were  near  me  hesitated  not  to  say, 
"that  there  might  be  some  design  of  the  gods,  in 
this."     Others  said  plainly,  but  not  with  raised 


voices,    "  An  omen  !    an  omen 


At  the  same 


time  Isaac  turned  and  looked  at  me  with  an  ex- 
pression of  countenance  which  I  could  not  inter- 
pret. Aurelian  meanwhile  exhibited  manj'  signs 
of  impatience ;  and  when  it  was  evident  the 
animal  could  not  be  wrought  up,  either  by  the 
cries  of  the  people,  or  of  the  keepers,  to  any  act 
of  violence,  he  too  was  taken  away.  But  when  a 
third  had  been  let  loose,  and  with  no  better  effect, 
nay,  with  less — -for  he,  when  he  had  at  length  ap- 
proached Probus,  fawned  upon  him,  and  laid  him- 
self at  his  feet — the  people,  superstitious  as  you 
know  beyond  any  others,   now  cried  out  aloud, 


"  An  omen  !  an  omen  !  "  and  made  the  sign  that 
Probus  should  be  spared  and  removed. 

Aurelian  himself  seemed  almost  of  the  same 
mind,  and  I  can  hardly  doubt  would  have  ordered 
him  to  be  released,  but  that  Pronto  at  that 
moment  approached  him,  and  by  a  few  of  those 
words,  which,  coming  from  him,  are  received  by 
Aurelian  as  messages  from  Heaven,  put  within 
him  a  new  and  different  mind ;  for  rising  quickly 
from  his  seat  he  ordered  the  keeper  of  the  vivaria 
to  be  brought  before  him.  When  he  appeared 
below  upon  the  sands,  Aurelian  cried  out  to  him, 

"Why,  knave,  dost  thou  weary  out  our  pa- 
tience thus — letting  forth  beasts  already  over- fed  ? 
Do  thus  again,  and  thou  thyself  shall  be  thrown 
to  them.     Art  thou  too  a  Christian?  " 

"  Great  Emperor,"  replied  the  keeper,  "than 
those  I  have  now  let  loose  there  are  not  larger 
nor  fiercer  in  the  imperial  dens,  and  since  the 
sixth  hour  of  yesterday  they  have  tasted  nor  food 
nor  drink.  Why  they  have  thus  put  off  their 
nature  'tis  hard  to  guess,  unless  the  general  cry 
be  taken  for  the  truth,  '  that  the  gods  have  touched 
them."' 

Aurelian  was  again  seen  to  waver,  when  a  voice 
from  the  benches  cried  out, 

"  It  is,  O  Emperor,  but  another  Christian  de- 
vice !  Forget  not  the  voice  from  the  temple  !  The 
Christians,  who  claim  powers  over  demons,  bid- 
ding them  go  and  come  at  pleasure,  may  well  be 
thought  capable  to  change,  by  the  magic  imputed 
to  them,  the  nature  of  a  beast." 

"  I  doubt  not,"  said  the  Emperor,  "but  it  is  so. 
Slave !  throw  open  now  the  doors  of  all  thy 
vaults,  and  let  us  see  whether  both  lions  and  tigers 
be  not  too  much  for  this  new  necromancy.  If  it 
be  the  gods  who  interpose,  the}-  can  shut  the 
mouths  of  thousands  as  of  one." 

At  those  cruel  words,  the  doors  of  the  vivaria 
were  at  once  flung  open,  and  an  hundred  of  their 
fierce  tenants,  maddened  both  by  hunger  and  the 
goads  that  had  been  applied,  rushed  forth,  and  in 
the  fur}-  with  which  in  a  single  mass  they  fell 
upon  Probus — then  kneeling  upon  the  sands — and 
burying  him  beneath  them,  no  one  ccidd  behold 
his  fate,  nor,  when  that  dark  troop  separated  and 
ran  howling  about  the  arena,  in  search  of  other 
victims,  could  the  eye  discover  the  least  vestige 
of  that  holy  man.  I  then  fled  from  the  theatre  as 
one  who  flies  from  that  which  is  worse  than  death. 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


437 


Felix  was  next  offered  up,  as  I  have  learned, 
and  after  him  more  than  fourscore  of  the  Chris- 
tians of  Rome.  

A  SOUTH  CAROLINA  CORN-SHUCKING  IN  THE 
OLDEN   TIME. 

BY   WILLIAM    CULLEN   BRYANT. 

BUT  you  must  hear  of  the  corn-shucking.  The 
one  at  which  I  was  present  was  given  on  pur- 
pose that  I  might  witness  the  humors  of  the  Caro- 
lina negroes.  A  huge  fire  of  light-wood  was  made 
near  the  corn-house.  Light-wood  is  the  wood  of 
the  long-leaved  pine,  and  is  so  called,  not  because 
it  is  light,  for  it  is  almost  the  heaviest  wood  in 
the  world,  but  because  it  gives  more  light  than 
any  other  fuel.  In  clearing  land,  the  pines  are 
girdled  and  suffered  to  stand :  the  outer  portion 
of  the  wood  decays  and  falls  off;  the  inner  part, 
which  is  saturated  with  turpentine,  remains  up- 
right for  years,  and  constitutes  the  planter's  pro- 
vision of  fuel.  When  a  supply  is  wanted,  one  of 
these  dead  trunks  is  felled  by  the  axe.  The 
abundance  of  light-wood  is  one  of  the  boasts  of 
South  Carolina.  Wherever  you  are,  if  you  hap- 
pen to  be  chilly,  you  may  have  a  fire  extempore ; 
a  bit  of  light-wood  and  a  coal  give  you  a  bright 
blaze  and  a  strong  heat  in  an  instant.  The  ne- 
groes make  fires  of  it  in  the  fields  where  they 
work  ;  and,  when  the  mornings  are  wet  and  chill}', 
in  the  pens  where  they  are  milking  the  cows.  At 
a  plantation,  where  I  passed  a  frost}-  night,  I 
saw  fires  in  a  small  iuclosure,  and  was  told  by  the 
lady  of  the  house  that  she  had  ordered  them  to 
be  made  to  warm  the  cattle. 

The  light-wood  fire  was  made,  and  the  negroes 
dropped  in  from  the  neighboring  plantations, 
singing  as  they  came.  The  driver  of  the  planta- 
tion, a  colored  man,  brought  out  baskets  of  corn 
in  the  husk,  and  piled  it  in  a  heap ;  and  the  ne- 
groes began  to  strip  the  husks  from  the  ears, 
singing  with  great  glee  as  they  worked,  keeping 
time  to  the  music,  and  now  and  then  throwing  in 
a  joke  and  an  extravagant  burst  of  laughter.  The 
songs  were  generally  of  a  comic  character;  but 
one  of  them  was  set  to  a  singularly  wild  and 
plaintive  air,  which  some  of  our  musicians  would 
do  well  to  reduce   to   notation.     These   are  the 

words : 

Johnny  come  down  de  hollow. 

Ob  hollow  ! 
Johnny  come  down  de  hollow. 

Oh  hollow ! 


De  nigger-trader  got  me. 

Oh  hollow ! 
De  speculator  bought  me. 

Oh  hollow ! 
I'm  sold  for  silver  dollars. 

Oh  hollow ! 
Boys,  go  catch  the  pony. 

Oh  hollow ! 
Bring  him  round  the  corner. 

Oh  hollow ! 
I'm  goin'  away  to  Georgia. 

Oh  hollow ! 
Boys,  good-by  forever ! 

.  Oh  hollow ! 

The  song  of  "Jenny  gone  away,"  was  also 
given,  and  another,  called  the  monkey-song,  prob- 
ably of  African  origin,  in  which  the  principal 
singer  personated  a  monkey,  with  all  sorts  of  odd 
gesticulations,  and  the  other  negroes  bore  part  in 
the  chorus,  "  Dan,  dan,  who's  the  dandy?"  One 
of  the  songs,  commonly  sung  on  these  occasions, 
represents  the  various  animals  of  the  woods  as 
belonging  to  some  profession  or  trade.  For 
example : 

De  cooter  is  de  boatman. 

The  cooter  is  the  terrapin,  and  a  very  expert  boat- 
man he  is. 

De  cooter  is  de  boatman. 
John  John  Crow. 

De  red-bird  de  soger. 

John  John  Crow. 

De  mocking-bird  de  lawyer. 
John  John  Crow. 

De  alligator  sawyer 

John  John  Crow. 

The  alligator's  back  is  furnished  with  a  toothed 
ridge,  like  the  edge  of  a  saw,  which  explains  the 
last  line. 

When  the  work  of  the  evening  was  over,  the 
negroes  adjourned  to  a  spacious  kitchen.  One  of 
them  took  his  place  as  musician,  whistling,  and 
beating  time  with  two  sticks  upon  the  floor. 
Several  of  the  men  came  forward  and  executed 
various  dances,  capering,  prancing,  and  drumming 
with  heel  and  toe  upon  the  floor,  with  astonishing 
agility  and  perseverance,  though  all  of  them  had 
performed  their  daily  tasks  and  had  worked  all 
the  evening,  and  some  had  walked  from  four  to 
seven  miles  to  attend  the  corn-shucking.  From 
the  dances  a  transition  was  made  to  a  mock  mili- 


438 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


tary  parade,  a  sort  of  burlesque  of  our  militia 
trainings,  in  which  the  words  of  command  and 
the  evolutions  were  extremely  ludicrous.  It  be- 
came necessary  for  the  commander  to  make  a 
speech,  and  confessing  his  incapacity  for  public 
speaking,  he  called  upon  a  huge  black  man  named 
Toby  to  address  the  compairy  in  his  stead.  Toby, 
a  man  of  powerful  frame,  six  feet  high,  his  face 
ornamented  with  a  beard  of  fashionable  cut,  had 
hitherto  stood  leaning  against  the  wall,  looking 
upon  the  frolic  with  an  air  of  superiority.  He 
consented,  came  forward,  demanded  a  bit  of  paper 
to  hold  in  his  hand,  and  harangued  the  soldiery. 
It  was  evident  that  Toby  had  listened  to  stump- 
speeches  in  his  day.  He  spoke  of  "  de  majority 
of  Sous  Carolina,"  "de  interests  of  de  state," 
"de  honor  of  ole  Ba'nwell  district,"  and  these 
phrases  he  connected  by  various  expletives,  and 
sounds  of  which  we  could  make  nothing.  At 
length  he  began  to  falter,  when  the  captain,  with 
admirable  presence  of  mind,  came  to  his  relief, 
and  interrupted  and  closed  the  harangue  with  an 
hurrah  from  the  company.  Toby  was  allowed  by 
all  the  spectators,  black  and  white,  to  have  made 
an  excellent  speech. 


JOHN     HOWARD      PAYNE.  —  A     HISTORY      OF 
"HOME,  SWEET  HOME." 

THE  author  of  the  song  that  has  touched  more 
hearts  than  any  other  single  composition  in 
the  languages  of  men,  was  born  in  the  city  of 
New  York,  June  9,  1792,  and  died  in  Tunis,  Al- 
giers, April  10,  1S52.  Such  is  the  simple  record 
of  the  birth  and  death  of  the  man  of  whom  it 
has  been  truthfully  said  that  he  never  had  a  home 
of  his  own,  and  yet  who  has  expressed,  better 
than  any  one  else,  that  sentiment  of  sacredness 
which  clusters  around  the  old  "roof  tree  "of 
every  human  being. 

Soon  after  Payne's  birth  his  father  removed  to 
Boston,  where  his  boyhood  days  were  spent. 
Earl}-  in  life  he  manifested  a  marked  talent  for 
elocution,  and  this  fact  coming  to  the  notice  of  an 
actor  of  considerable  reputation  in  Boston  at  that 
time,  he  urged  his  father  to  allow  him  to  prepare 
the  youth  for  the  stage.  But  the  elder  Payne  had 
other  views  for  the  future  of  his  son,  and  declined 
the  offer,  much  to  the  chagrin  of  the  lad,  whose 
mind,  even  at  this  earl}-  period,  was  earnestly 
fixed  upon  the  drama. 


About  this  time  his  elder  brother,  a  partner  in 
the  mercantile  house  of  Forbes  &  Payne,  of  New 
York,  died,  and,  with  a  view  of  weaning  him 
from  the  stage,  his  father  sent  him  to  New  York 
to  take  the  place  of  his  deceased  brother.  He 
was  then  only  thirteen  years  of  age,  but  he  had 
no  sooner  become  installed  in  his  new  position 
than  he  commenced  the  publication  of  a  little 
periodical  called  "The  Thespian  Mirror,"  which 
soon  attracted  more  attention  than  the  youthful 
editor  had  expected.  Some  person,  writing  over 
the  nom  dc  plume  of  "Criticus,"  sent  an  article  to 
to  the  "Evening  Post,"  severely  criticising  cer- 
tain statements  which  had  appeared  in  the 
"Mirror,"  and  the  announcement  by  the  editor 
that  the  article  would  appear  in  the  next  number 
of  his  paper,  brought  an  earnest  appeal  from  his 
youthful  contemporary  not  to  reveal  his  incognito, 
on  the  ground  that  his  relatives  were  ignorant  of 
his  literary  venture,  and  he  dreaded  their  anger 
if  it  should  become  known  to  them.  The  inge- 
nuity and  earnestness  of  the  letter  attracted  the 
attention  of  Mr.  Coleman,  the  editor  of  the  "Post," 
who  invited  Payne  to  call  upon  him.  He  was 
highly  pleased  with  the  interview,  and  stated  after- 
ward that  the  youth's  conduct  and  answers  were 
such  as  to  dispel  all  doubts  as  to  any  imposition, 
and  he  found  that  it  required  an  effort  on  his  part 
to  keep  up  the  conversation  in  as  choice  a  style 
as  his  own.  He  made  the  incident  public,  in 
spite  of  Payne's  earnest  objections,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  calling  attention  to  his  remarkable  merits, 
and  to  create  an  interest  in  his  career. 

He  succeeded  in  enlisting  the  co-operation  of 
Mr.  John  E.  Seaman,  a  benevolent  gentleman, 
who  offered  to  defray  the  youth's  expenses  at 
Union  College.  The  offer  was  gladly  accepted, 
and  Payne  took  his  departure  for  Albany  in  one 
of  the  sailing  vessels  that  then  earned  passengers 
between  New  York  and  that  city.  During  his 
progress  up  the  Hudson  he  wrote  the  following 
verses,  which  indicate  a  remarkable  genius  in  a 
boy  of  thirteen  : 

On  the  deck  of  the  slow  sailing  vessel,  alone, 
As  I  silently  sat,  all  was  mute  as  the  grave  ; 

It  was  night — and  the  moon  mildly  beautiful  shone, 
Lighting  up  with  her  soft  smile,  the  quivering  ware. 

So  bewitchingly  gentle  and  pure  was  its  beam, 
In  tenderness  watching  o'er  nature's  repose, 

That  I  likened  its  ray  to  Christianity's  gleam, 

When  it  mellows  and  soothes  without  chasing  our  woes. 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


4W 


And  I  felt  such  an  exquisite  mildness  of  sorrow, 
While  entranced  by  the  tremulous  glow  of  the  deep, 

That  I  longed  to  prevent  the  intrusion  of  morrow, 
And  to  stay  there  forever  to  wonder  and  weep. 

There  is  something  in  this  production,  which 
strangely  reminds  one  of  his  later  famous  poem 
of  "  Home,  Sweet  Home."  The  latter  is  in  fact 
a  sweet  and  mournful  echo  of  this  first  effort. 

At  college  he  started  a  periodical  called  ' '  The 
Pastime,"  and  wrote  a  Fourth  of  July  ode  that 
was  sung  by  the  students  in  one  of  the  churches. 


of  his  remarks  that  he  had  been  his  own  severest 
critic. 

Soon  after  his  establishment  at  college,  he  lost 
his  mother.  The  effect  of  this  calamity  on  his 
father,  already  much  broken  by  disease,  was  such 
as  to  incapacitate  him  for  attention  to  his  affairs, 
which  had  become  involved,  and  his  bankruptcy 
speedily  followed.  In  this  juncture,  the  son  in- 
sisted upon  trying  the  stage  as  a  means  of  support, 
and  obtaining  the  consent  of  his  father  and  his  pa- 
tron, made  his  first  appearance  at  the  Park  Theatre 


'There's  no  tlace  like  home.' 


Both  were  sufficiently  meritorious  to  arouse  the 
venom  of  the  critics,  who  attacked  the  author  in 
the  public  prints.  Paj-ne,  in  a  spirit  of  fun,  wrote 
an  article  himself,  and  published  it  in  the  Albany 
papers,  berating  his  production  even  more  severely 
than  his  critics  had  done.  It  produced  a  sensa- 
tion among  his  associates,  all  of  whom  were 
warmly  attached  to  him.  The  affair  reached  its 
climax  at  a  supper  party,  where  one  of  the  stu- 
dents offered  as  a  satirical  toast  "  The  Critics  of 
Albany."  To  the  astonishment  of  all,  Payne 
rose  and  returned  thanks,  admitting  in  the  course 


as  Young  Norval  on  the  evening  of  February  24, 
1S09,  in  his  sixteenth  year.  The  performance, 
like  those  of  the  entire  engagement,  was  highly 
successful.  A  writer,  who  had  seen  Garrick  and 
all  the  great  actors  since  his  day,  said,  "  I  have 
seen  Master  Payne  in  Douglas,  Zaphna,  Selim, 
and  Octavian,  and  ma}'  truly  say,  I  think  him 
superior  to  Betty  in  all.  There  was  one  scene  of 
his  Zaphna,  which  exhibited  more  taste  and  sen- 
sibility than  I  have  witnessed  since  the  days  of 
Garrick.     He  has  astonished  everybody." 

From  New  York  Payne  wenf  to  Philadelphia, 


440 


THE  WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND  THE 


and  afterwards  to  Boston,  performing  with  great 
success  in  both  cities.  He  also  appeared  at  Balti- 
more, Richmond,  and  Charleston,  where  Heury 
'Placide,  afterwards  the  celebrated  comedian  of 
the  Park  Theatre,  gained  his  first  success  by  a 
capital  imitation  of  his  style  of  acting. 

On  his  return  to  New  York,  after  these  engage- 
ments, Payne  yielded  to  the  wishes  of  his  family 
by  retiring  from  the  stage,  and  started  a  circula- 
ting library  and  reading-room,  the  Athenaeum, 
which  he  designed  to  expand  into  a  great  public 
institution.  Soon  after  this,  George  Frederick 
Cooke  arrived  in  America.  Payne,  of  course,  be- 
came acquainted  with  him,  and  was  very  kindly 
treated  b}'  the  great  tragedian,  who  urged  him  to 
try  his  fortune  on  the  London  stage.  They  ap- 
peared once  at  the  Park  Theatre  together,  Payne 
playing  Edgar  to  Cooke's  Lear.  Other  joint  per- 
formances were  planned,  but  evaded  by  Cooke, 
whose  pride  was  hurt  at  ' '  having  a  boy  called  in 
to  support  him."  The  Athenaeum  speculation 
proving  unprofitable,  he  returned  to  the  stage. 
While  playing  an  engagement  at  Boston,  his 
father  died.  He  afterwards  played  in  Philadel- 
phia and  Baltimore.  During  his  stay  in  the  latter 
city,  the  printing-office  of  his  friend  Hanson,  an 
editor,  was  attacked  by  a  mob  during  the  absence 
of  its  proprietor.  He  offered  his  services,  and 
rendered  essential  aid  to  the  paper  at  the  crisis, 
and  Mr.  Hanson  not  only  publicly  acknowledged 
his  services,  but  exerted  himself  in  aiding  his 
young  friend  to  obtain  the  means  to  visit  Europe. 
By  the  liberality  of  a  few  gentlemen  of  Baltimore, 
this  was  effected,  and  Payne  sailed  from  New 
York  on  the  seventeenth  of  January,  1813,  in- 
tending to  be  absent  but  one  year. 

The  war  between  England  and  the  United 
States  was  then  in  progress,  and  Payne's  first  ex- 
periences were  of  a  very  unpleasant  character. 
The  Mayor  of  Liverpool,  where  he  landed,  hav- 
ing determined  to  act  with  vigor  respecting  aliens, 
had  him  arrested  and  thrown  into  prison,  where 
he  remained  until  some  of  his  friends,  learning 
the  fact,  interceded  in  his  behalf  and  obtained 
his  release. 

On  arriving  in  London,  he  spent  several  weeks 
in  sight-seeing  before  applying  to  the  managers. 
By  the  influence  of  powerful  persons  to  whom  he 
brought  letters,  he  obtained  a  hearing  from  Mr. 
Whitbread  of  Drury  Lane,  and  appeared  at  that 
theatre    as  Douglas    the  performance  being  an- 


nounced on  the  bills  as  by  a  young  gentleman, 
"  his  first  appearance,"  it  being  deemed  advisable 
to  get  an  unbiased  verdict  from  the  audience. 
The  debut  was  successful,  and  he  was  announced 
in  the  bills  of  his  next  night  as  "  Mr.  Payne, 
from  the  theatres  of  New  York  and  Philadelphia." 

After  playing  a  triumphant  engagement,  he 
made  a  circuit  of  the  provinces,  and,  upon  his 
return  to  London,  visited  Paris,  principally  for  the 
purpose  of  seeing  Talma,  by  whom  he  was  most 
cordially  received.  Napoleon  returned  from  Elba 
soon  after  his  arrival,  and  he  consequently  re- 
mained in  Paris  during  the  Hundred  Days. 

Payne  continued  iu  London  and  Paris  for  about 
twenty  years,  engaged  in  his  profession  as  actor, 
manager  and  playwright,  but  meeting  with  indif- 
ferent success  on  account  of  the  jealousies  and 
unfaithfulness  of  those  with  whom  he  was  asso- 
ciated. During  this  time  he  wrote  several  plays 
that  were  received  with  great  favor  ;  one  of  these, 
the  drama  of  "Brutus,"  is  still  a  standard  pro- 
duction of  the  stage. 

But  his  enduring  fame  rests  upon  the  plaintive 
song  of  "Home,  Sweet  Home,"  which  was  first 
sung  as  a  part  of  his  opera  "Clari,"  produced 
about  1S1S.  This  piece  was  purchased  from 
Payne  by  Charles  Kemble  the  actor,  and  at  that 
time  manager  of  Covent  Garden  Theatre,  where 
it  was  first  produced,  for  thirty  pounds  (about 
$150).  The  song  immediately  captured  the  sym- 
pathies of  the  public,  and  the  theatre  was  filled 
from  the  pit  to  the  galleries  every  night,  with 
wildly  enthusiastic  audiences.  The  piece  made  a 
fortune  for  everybody  who  was  prominently  con- 
nected with  its  production — except  the  author,  who 
never  realized  any  more  than  the  original  price  of 
$150.  Miss  M.  Free,  the  elder  sister  of  Mrs. 
Charles  Kean,  had  the  part  in  which  the  song  of 
"  Home,  Sweet  Home  "  occurred,  and  it  not  only 
made  her  a  comfortable  fortune,  but  also  gained 
for  her  a  wealthy  husband,  whose  affections  were 
won  by  the  charming  manner  in  which  she  sang 
the  song. 

Upwards  of  one  hundred  thousand  copies  of 
the  song  were  estimated- in  1832  to  have  been  sold 
by  the  original  publishers,  whose  profits,  within 
two  years  after  it  was  issued,  are  said  to  have 
amounted  to  $10,000.  It  is  known  all  over  the 
world,  and  doubtless  years  after  its  composition, 
saluted  its  author's  ears  in  far-off  Tunis.  He  not 
only  lost  the  twenty-five  pounds  which  were  to 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


441 


have  been  paid  for  the  copyright  on  the  twentieth  Payne  returned  to  the  United  States  in  1832, 

night  of  performance,  but  was  not  even  compli-  and  engaged  in  various  literary  pursuits,  with  in- 

mented  with  a  copy  of  his  own  song  by  the  pub-  different  success,  until  1838,  when  he  received  the 

lisher.     He  soon  after  made  a  great  hit  in  Charles  appointment  of  American  consul  at  Tunis.     He 


"mid  pleasures  and  palaces  tho'  we  may  roam." 
the  Second.     It  became  one  of  Kemble's  most  fa-     remained  there  for  several  years,  and  then  came 
vorite  parts.     The  author  sold  the  copyright  for     home  for  the  purpose  of  soliciting  a  diplomatic 
fifty  pounds,   one-quarter    of  the   average   price     appointment  more  agreeable   to  his  tastes;    but 
paid  for  a  piece  of  its  length.  failing  in  this,  he  accepted  a  re-appointment  to 


442   THE   WONDERFUL,    THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


Tunis,  and  died  there  in  1852,  soon  after  his  re- 
turn. Here  at  last  he  found  a  home,  far  from  his 
native  land  and  among  strangers  and  barbarians. 
It  is  not  known  at  what  time  Payne  wrote  the 
following  verses,  but  they  sound  like  a  premoni- 
tion of  his  own  sad  fate  : 

THE  TOMB   OF  GENU'S. 

Where  the  chilling  north  wind  howls, 
Where  the  weeds  so  wildly  wave, 

Mourned  by  the  weeping  willow, 
Washed  by  the  beating  billow, 
Lies  the  youthful  Poet's  grave. 

Beneath  you  little  eminence, 
Harked  by  the  grass-green  turf, 

The  winding-sheet  his  form  encloses, 
On  the  cold  rock  his  head  reposes — 
Near  him  foams  the  troubled  surf! 

"Roars  around  "  his  tomb  "the  ocean," 
Pensive  sleeps  the  moonbeam  there  ! 

Naiads  love  to  wreathe  his  urn — 

Dryads  thither  hie  to  mourn — 
Fairy  music  melts  in  air  ! 

O'er  his  tomb  the  village  virgins 

Love  to  drop  the  tribute  tear ; 
Stealing  from  the  groves  around, 
Soft  they  tread  the  hallowed  ground, 

And  scatter  wild  flowers  o'er  his  bier. 

By  the  cold  earth  mantled— 

All  alone — 
Pale  and  lifeless  lies  his  form  : 
Batters  on  his  grave  the  storm  : 
Silent  now  his  tuneful  numbers, 
Here  the  son  of  Genius  slumbers : 
Stranger  !  mark  his  burial-stone  ! 


AN    INCIDENT  OF    THE    SINGING  OF  "HOME, 
SWEET  HOME,"  AT  SEA. 

THEN'  it  was  the  remembrance  of  the  past 
crowded  up  like  odors  from  a  bed  of 
flowers,  lulling  the  feelings  to  that  delicious  calm- 
ness which  pleasant  memories  alwaj^s  inspire, 
and  which  none  feel  more  sensibly  than  the  tem- 
pest-tossed mariner.  The  father  dwelt  in  tender- 
ness on  his  distant  family ;  the  brother  recalled 
the  unbidden  assiduities  of  a  sister's  love  ;  and 
the  son,  as  he  leaned  against  the  mast,  his  fea- 
tures set  in  the  sedateness  of  sober  reflection,  felt 
his  heart  softened  by  the  recollection  of  a 
mother's  care.  But  few  remarks  were  made.  All 
felt  that  the  silence  which  reigned  above,  beneath, 
and  around  should  not  be  disturbed.  Each  one 
had  retired  to  the  recess  of  his  own  heart — a 
sanctuary  too  sacred  to  be  violated. 


Such  was  the  state  of  feeling,  when  a  clear, 
melodious  voice  slowly  poured  forth  the  first  line 
of  that  exquisite  song — "Home,  Sweet  Home!" 
As  the  words,  "Mid  pleasures  and  palaces," 
swelled  upon  the  air,  a  single  exclamation  of 
pleasure  escaped  the  hearers,  and  they  again  re- 
lapsed into  silence.  We  had  often  heard  the  song, 
but  never  had  it  come  so  thrillingly  as  then.  Had 
it  been  sung  by  even  an  ordinary  performer,  its 
effect  would  have  been  great ;  but  breathed,  as 
it  was,  with  a  fervor  and  feeling  I  have  never 
known  excelled,  in  a  voice  full,  manly,  and  touch- 
ing, it  could  but  produce  a  powerful  impression. 
As  the  singer  proceeded,  the  circle  was  augmented. 
The  sturdy  seaman  seated  himself  with  calm  grav- 
ity, and,  by  the  side  of  the  j-outhful  midship- 
man, listened  with  enthralled  attention.  The 
man  whose  locks  were  whitened,  equally  with 
the  boy  whose  features  were  unmasked  b3f  the 
furrows  of  time  and  care,  seemed  to  drink  in  the 
beautiful  words  as  a  healing  draught. 

Oh,  how  magical  is  music  at  such  an  hour! 

It  comes  to  the  heart  like  a  flood  of  sunshine, 
dispelling  its  gathering  mists,  and  causing  high 
aspirations  to  spring  into  strength  and  beauty. 
The  soul  is  elevated  above  the  narrowness  of  earth, 
and  seeks  in  thought  to  commune  with  the  in- 
telligence of  a  higher  world,  and  with  that  Being 

Who  plants  his  footsteps  in  the  sea, 
And  rides  upon  the  storm. 

Thus  were  the  feelings  of  the  listening  group 
when  the  performer,  at  the  close  of  the  first  verse, 
eloquently  burst  forth  with  the  words,  "There's 
no  place  like  home  !"  An  emotion  was  visible  in 
all.  There  was  a  tremor  in  his  voice,  showing 
that  he  felt  the  influence  of  the  line ;  and  when 
he  concluded  it,  his  pause  was  longer  than  usual, 
and  a  deep  sigh  escaped  him. 

When  he  recommenced  —  "An  exile  from 
home," — the  agitation  in  those  around  was 
merged  in  attention  to  the  song,  but  his  increased. 
His  face  was  slightly  averted,  and  the  rays  of  the 
moon,  as  they  fell  upon  it,  and  glistened  in  the 
tear  that  rested  on  his  cheek,  gave  additional  ef- 
fect to  the  expression  almost  of  agony  stamped 
upon  his  features.  He  was,  indeed,  as  I  know, 
"an  exile  from  home,"  though  from  what  cause 
I  never  could  discover,—  and  the  smothered  grief 
of  years  was  now  loosed,  and  flowed  in  unre- 
strained power  over  him. 


THE   SAILOR'S    RETURN   HOME. 


(443) 


444 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


He  continued.  As  the  song  drew  to  a  close 
his  emotion  increased,  with  that  of  every  one  who 
listened.  At  length,  as  the  line,  "There's  no 
place  like  home,"  rose  on  the  stillness  of  the 
hour  the  last  time,  a  rush  of  feeling  was  evident, 
and  in  many  showed  itself  in  tears  !  The  man, 
who  from  childhood  had  "braved  the  foaming 
brine,"  and  had  stood  without  fear  on  the  brink 
of  eternity  ;  and  he,  who,  au  outcast  from  the  so- 
ciety of  the  virtuous  and  the  good,  knew  no  home, 
alike  with  the  being  of  turbid  passions  and  unhal- 
lowed deeds,  gave  a  tribute  to  him  who  had  so 
well-timed  and  so  feelingly  executed  one  of  the 
most  grateful  songs  that  ever  greets  the  seaman's 
ear.  Oh  !  it  was  good  to  look  on  men  I  had  con- 
sidered in  iniquity,  thus  throwing  open  the  flood- 
gates of  long-pent  affections,  that  they  might  once 
more  gladden  and  purify  the  soul !  I  could  not 
think  such  men  entirely  lost ;  I  could  but  look  on 
human  nature  in  a  fairer  and  more  pleasing  as- 
pect. 

Xo  one  spoke  ;  and  after  a  few  moments,  in 
which  all  else  was  banished  by  the  one  dear 
thought  of  the  distant  home  we  had  exchanged 
for  our  "  home  upon  the  deep,"  each  one  sought 
his  pillow,  I  do  not  doubt,  a  purer  and  a  better 
man. 


PROPHETS  AND  PROPHECIESOF  THE  MIDDLE 
AGES. 

IN  the  early  years  of  Christianity  that  eager  de- 
sire to  look  into  the  future,  to  turn  over  the 
leaves  of  the  dread  Book  of  Fate,  which  is  so 
characteristic  of  human  nature  that  it  has  been 
found  to  exist  in  every  race,  was  satisfied  to  some 
extent  by  the  so-called  Oracles  of  the  Sibyl.  For 
several  centuries  these  were  modified  as  circum- 
stances required,  and  made  to  suit  the  changing 
conditions  of  the  times  ;  but,  after  the  collapse  of 
the  Roman  empire,  they  fell  into  gradual  disrepute, 
and  their  place  in  popular  estimation  was  taken 
by  the  prophecies  of  Merlin.  A  cloud  of  fable 
envelops  this  mysterious  personage,  so  that  it  is 
hard  to  determine  how  far  he  is  a  reality  or  a 
myth.  According  to  one  of  the  numerous  tradi- 
tions of  which  he  is  the  hero,  he  was  the  magician 
and  counselor  of  Uther  Pendragon,  King  of  the 
Britons,  and,  by  Queen  Ingoma,  became  the 
father  of  our  legendary  hero,  Arthur.  According 
to  another,  he  was  ensnared  bv  the  charms  of  the 


wily  enchantress,  Vivien,  and  died,  spell-bound, 
in  a  hawthorn  bush.  Picturesque  use  of  this 
fable  has  been  made  by  Spenser  and  Tennyson. 

It  seems  probable  that  there  really  was  a  British 
bard  -of  the  seventh  century  of  this  name,  who 
gained  so  vast  a  renown  by  his  Tyrtean  strains 
that  the  other  lights  of  the  old  Celtic  poetry  faded 
before  his  greater  splendor,  and  eventually  the 
various  fragments  of  verse  surviving  in  the 
national  memory  were  all  attributed  to  him.  Even 
as  late  as  the  fifteenth  century-  his  wild  guesses  at 
the  future — so  vague  in  meaning  and  obscure  in 
expression  that  they  lent  themselves  readily  to 
different  interpretations — were  accepted  through- 
out the  West  of  Europe  as  utterances  of  infallible 
import.  But  their  greatest  vogue  was  in  the 
twelfth  century,  when  scarcely  a  single  event  took 
place  which  the  credulity  of  the  monastic  chroni- 
clers did  not  represent  to  have  been  foretold  by 
the  omniscient  Merlin. 

It  is  a  wise  maxim,  never  to  prophesy  unless 
you  know  ;  a  maxim  that  nearly  all  prophets  have 
faithfully  observed  ;  and  probably  the  Merlinesque 
prophecies  were  all  concocted  "after  the  event." 
Sometimes,  however,  the  same  oracle  received  the 
most  opposite  interpretations.  Thus,  when  King 
William  the  Lion,  of  Scotland,  was  captured  by 
an  English  ami}',  and  imprisoned  in  Richmond 
Castle,  Matthew  Paris,  the  historian,  informs  us 
that  the  event  was  looked  upon  as  fulfilling  one 
of  Merlin's  prophetic  deliverances — "A  bit  shall 
be  thrust  in  his  teeth,  forged  on  the  shores  of  the 
Annorican  Gulf" — the  Armorican  Gulf  being 
understood  as  referring  to  the  channel  hereditarily 
owned  by  the  Lords  of  Annorica  or  Brittany — ■ 
then  a  province  of  the  English  throne.  But  some 
months  afterward  the  same  prophecy  was  applied 
to  Henry  II.,  who,  on  the  revolt  of  his  sons,  John 
and  Richard,  had  been  closely  pressed  by  their 
allies,  the  Bretons. 

The  deposition  of  Richard  II.  and  the  usurpa- 
tion of  Henry  I\".  are  among  the  events  which 
Merlin  was  said  to  have  foretold,  the  truth  being 
that,  in  these  troublesome  times,  people  invented 
prophecies  according  as  they  found  them  conve- 
nient. The  curious  circumstances  attending  the 
death  of  Henry  IV.,  of  which  Shakespeare  has 
made  good  use,  were  first  related  by  the  London 
historian,  Robert  Fabian,  in  his  "  Concordance  of 
Stories."  Having  fallen  ill  while  saying  his 
prayers  at  St.   Edward's  shrine  in  Westminster 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


445 


Abbe}-,  at  the  beginning  of  14 13,  the  King  was 
carried  into  the  Abbot  s  residence  close  at  hand. 
On  corning  to  himself,  he  inquired  what  place  it 
was,  and  his  attendants  answered  that  he  was 
lying  in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber.  Then  said  the 
King:  "Loving  be  the 
Father  of  heaven,  for  now 
I  know  I  shall  die  in  this 
chamber,  according  to  the 
prophecy  of  one  before  said 
that  I  should  die  in  Jerusa- 
lem." This  prophecy  he 
had  previously  interpreted 
to  mean  he  should  die  in 
the  Holy  City. 

In  like  manner  Pope  Syl- 
vester II.,  having  made  a 
brazen  head  —  like  Roger 
Bacon's — obtained  from  it 
the  information  that  he 
would  not  die  before  he  had 
chanted  mass  in  Jerusalem. 
One  day,  while  celebrating 
mass  in  a  church  at  Rome, 
he  was  overtaken  by  a  se- 
rious illness,  and,  on  mak- 
ing inquiry,  found  that  the 
church  was  named  Jerusa- 
lem. Of  course,  the  oracle 
of  the  brazen  head  was 
duly  fulfilled. 

Of  this  juggling  kind  of 
prophecy  there  are  other 
instances.  One  of  the  Earls 
of  Pembroke,  having  been 
told  he  would  die  at  War- 
wick, obtained  the  Govern- 
orship  of  Berwick-upon- 
Tweed,  which  certainly  lay 
at  a  considerable  distance 
from  the  old  midland  city. 
But  when  he  was  killed  in 
a  fight  with  the  Scots  it  was 
discovered  that  Barwick,  as 
it  was  then  pronounced,  was  captur 

obviously  the  place  intended  by  the  prophet. 
Cardinal  Wolsey  had  been  warned  to  beware  of 
Kingston,  and  was  especially  careful  never  to 
enter  the  town  so  named  ;  but  this  did  not  pre- 
vent him,  when  his  fall  occurred,  from  being 
arrested  by  Sir  Walter  Kingston.  Margery  Jour- 
dain,  or  Jourdenemyne,  the  witch  of  Ely,  is  said 


to  have  informed  Edward,  Duke  of  Somerset,  that 

he  would  be  defeated  and  slain  at  a  castle  : 

Let  him  shun  castles ; 

Safer  shall  he  be  on  the  sandy  plain 

Than  v.-here  castles  mounted  stand. 


OF  WILLIAM,   THE   LION,    OF  SCOTLAND. 

He  fell  in  the  first  battle  of  St.  Alban's,  and 
his  dead  bod}-  was  found — 

Underneath  an  ale-house'  paltry'  sign  — 
"The  Castle." 

Lastly.     William  de  la  Pole,  Duke  of  Suffolk 
(temp.   Henry  VI.),  was  warned  by  a  wizard  to 


446 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND  THE 


beware  of  water  and  avoid  the  Tower.  So  that 
when  his  enemies  prevailed  against  him  he  has- 
tened from  London  and  its  Tower,  with  the  view 
of  escaping  to  France.  On  his  passage  across  the 
Channel  he  was  captured  by  the  King's  ship 
Nicholas  of  the  Tower,  commanded  by  a  man 
named  Walter  Whitmore.  The  dramatist  makes 
the  unfortunate  Duke  exclaim  : 


THE    WIZARD    WARNING    WILLIAM,    DUKE   OF  SUFFOLK, 

Thy  name  affrights  me.  in  whose  sound  is  death. 
A  cunning  man  did  calculate  my  birth, 
And  told  me  that  by  water  I  should  die  ; 
Yet  let  not  this  make  thee  be  bloody-minded, 
Thy  name  is  Gualtier,  being  rightly  sounded. 

However,  Suffolk  was  straightway  beheaded, 
and  the  quibbling  prediction  fulfilled. 

In  the  sixteenth  century,  to  Merlin's  place  suc- 
ceeded Michael  Nostradamus,  a  Provencal  physi- 
cian, who  died  in  1566.  He  seems  to  have  been 
•i   man  of   considerable  scholarship,   and    he    at- 


tained a  wide  reputation  for  medical  skill.  Hav- 
ing settled  in  the  town  of  Salon,  he  studied  as- 
trology in  order  to  extend  his  powers  in  curing 
man's  diseases,  and  was' thus  led  to  practise  the 
seer's  craft,  beginning  in  the  modest  character  of 
an  almanac  maker.  His  earliest  "  guesses  "  were 
published  in  1555 — written  in  mystical  and  ex- 
ceedingly figurative  quatrains — and  at  once  be- 
came so  popular  that  King 
Henry  II.,  (of  France)  sum- 
moned him  to  Paris,  and  con- 
sulted him  about  his  children's 
future.  Charles  IX.  and  his 
mother,  the  infamous  Cath- 
arine de  Medici,  also  consulted 
him  and  rewarded  him  each 
with  a  handsome  sum  in  gold 
crowns,  while  the  king  ap- 
pointed him  his  physician. 
He  died  at  Salon,  aged  63. 
"  I  am,"  he  says,  in  the  intro- 
duction to  his  prophecies,  in 
which,  it  appears,  he  himself 
implicitly  believed,  "but  a 
mortal  man,  and  the  greatest 
sinner  in  the  world  ;  but  being 
surprised  occasionally  by  a 
prophetical  mood,  and  long 
calculations,  pleasing  myself 
in  my  study,  I  have  made 
several  books  of  predictions, 
each  one  containing  a  hun- 
dred astronomical  stanzas." 

A  man  who  delivers  himself 
of  some  hundreds   of  prophe- 
cies, is   almost  sure  to  make 
one  or  two  lucky  hits  ;    that 
is,  by  the  law  of  coincidences, 
certain  events  ma}'  be  expected 
to  occur,  which  will  bear  a  re- 
semblance, more  or  less  vague,  to  his  guesses  or 
inventions.     Thus  the  credulous  may  easily  trace 
a  forecast  of  the  fire  of  London  preceded  by  the 
execution  of  Charles  I.,  in  the  following  shadowy 

verse  : 

Le  sang  de  juste  a  Londres  sera  faute 
Brulez  par  feu,  de  vingt  et  trois,  les  six. 
La  dame  antique  cherra  de  place  haute 
De  meme  sorte  plusieurs  seront  occis. 

The  blood  of  the  just  shall  be  wanting  in  Lon- 
don, burnt  by  fire  of  three-and-twenty,  the  six— 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S  HISTORY. 


447 


which  is  near  enough,  we  suppose,  for  1666  ; — the 
ancient  dame — Monarchy — shall  fall  from  her  high 
place,  of  the 
same  sect  many 
shall  be  killed. 
In  another  quo- 
tation we  meet 
with  the  line,  Le 
Sanat  de  Londres 
metteront  a  vwrt 
leRoyt  which  cer- 
tainly does  ap- 
pear a  pretty 
good  guess  at 
Charles  I.'s  ex- 
ecution ;  and  the 
victories  of 
Cromwell's  Iron- 
sides at  Dunkirk 
may  be  assumed 
as  foreshadowed 
in  the  line,  Le 
Oliver  se  plant  era 
on  terra  firma. 
But  our  sporting 
prophets  in  the 
columns  of  the 
daily  and  weekly 
press  are  quite  as 
often  successful 
as  was  this  Pro- 
vencal seer ;  and 
on  the  whole  he 
fairly  merited  the 
punning  epitaph 
of  the  poet  Jo- 
delle  :  "We  give 
our  own  things 
when  we  give 
false  things,  for 
it  is  our  habit  to 
deceive;  and 
when  we  give 
false  things  we 
are  giving  only 
our  own."* 

The  son  of 
Nostradamus 
also    tried    his 

•Nostra  damus  cum  falsa  damus,  nam  fallere  nostrum  est, 
Et  cum  falsa  damus,  nil  nisi  Nostra  damus. 


hand  at  soothsaying,  but  with  unpleasant  conse- 
quences. When  the  Catholic  army,  in  1574,  was  be- 


CEOMWEI 


L'S   IRONSIDES   AT   DUNKIRK. 

sieging  the  town  of  Pouzin,  in  Languedoc,  Saint 
Luc,  its  commander,  inquired  of  young  Nostrada- 


448 


THE  WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


mus  what  would  be  the  result.  After  reflecting, 
the  prophet  replied  that  the  town  would  perish  by 
fire  ;  and  to  prove  the  truth  of  his  prediction,  was 
found,  when  the  town  was  taken  and  plundered, 
setting  fire  to  it  in  several  places.  Xext  day, 
when  Saint  Luc  met  him,  he  said  :  "  Come,  now, 
Master  Prophet,  can  you  tell  if  any  accident  will 
befall  you  to-day  ?  "  And  on  Nostradamus  con- 
fidently replying   "None,"  he  struck  him  in  the 


mm  i 


KING  JOHN   ORDERS   THE   YORKSHIRE   HERMIT  TO    BE   IMPRISONED 

stomach  with  his  stick,  and  so  startled  the  horse 
which  Nostradamus  was  riding  that  he  reaied, 
threw  his  rider  and  dealt  him  a  mortal  blow  with 
his  hoof. 

When  King  John  Lackland,  of  England,  was  at 
war  with  his  barons,  there  was  a  Yorkshire  hermit, 
named  Peter,  who  enjoyed  a  great  reputation  for 
wisdom,  because  he  had  several  times  foretold 
"coming events."     Among  other  thinars  revealed 


to  him  about  King  John  by  the  spirit  of  prophecv, 
he  affirmed,  and  publicly  declared  before  all  who 
were  willing  to  listen,  that  he  would  not  be  King 
of  England  after  next  Ascension  Day  ;  but  on 
that  day  the  crown  would  be  transferred  to  an- 
other. The  King,  informed  of  this  highly  trea- 
sonable "  guess,"  sent  for  its  author. 

"Shall  I  die,  then,  on  the  day  you  name?     Or 
by  what  other  means  shall  I  lose  my  crown?" 

The  hermit  said: 
' '  Know  for  certain  that  on 
the  da}"  I  have  said  you  will 
no  longer  be  King  ;  and  if 
I  am  convicted  of  lying,  do 
with  me  what  you  will. 

' '  I  take  you  at  your 
word, ' '  said  John  ;  and  he 
placed  him  in  the  custody 
of  William  of  Harcourt, 
who  shut  him  up  in  Corfe 
Castle. 

Close  guarded  and  loaded 
with  irons,  the  hermit 
awaited  the  issue.  His 
prophecy  had  spread  on  the 
wings  of  rumor  all  over  the 
country,  and  was  every- 
where accepted  as  if  it  had 
been  a  voice  from  heaven. 
Ascension  D  a  y  came, 
Ascension  Day  went,  and 
John  was  still  King  of 
England.  Then  he  caused 
the  unfortunate  hermit  to 
be  tied  to  the  tail  of  a  horse 
and  dragged  through  the 
streets  of  Wareham,  after 
which  he  was  hung,  to- 
gether with  his  sons,  with 
even*  circumstance  of  igno- 
miny. 

Some  of  the  most  cu- 
rious of  the  mediaeval  predictions  are  those 
which  dealt  with  the  destinies  of  certain  states  ; 
and  of  these  the  most  interesting  relate  to  the 
history  of  Constantinople.  They  show  at  how 
early  a  period  the  Greeks  were  apprehensive  of 
the  coming  downfall  of  their  empire,  pressed  as 
it  was  on  every  side  by  Arabs,  Bulgarians,  Rus- 
sians, and  finally  by  the  Turks. 

Ralph  de  Diceto,  one  of  our  early  Anglo-Nor- 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S  HISTORY. 


449 


man  chroniclers,  whose  history  does  not  extend 
beyond  1199,  asserts  that  on  the  famous  Golden 
Gates  of  Canstantinople,  through  which  victorious 
generals  led 
their  triumphal 
processions,  was 
inscribed  the  fol- 
lowing  predic- 
tion : 

When  the  Fair 
King  shall  come 
from  the  West,  I 
shall  open  of  my 
own  will. 

It  was  not 
through  this 
gate,  however, 
that  the  Crusa- 
ders entered  in 
1204,  for  in  order 
to  baffle  the  pro- 
phecies concern- 
ing it,  the  Byzan- 
tine princes  had 
ordered  it  to  be 
walled  up.  It  is 
a  remarkable  fact 
that  even  to  this 
day  the  Turks 
accept  the  tradi- 
t  i  o  n  which  so 
alarmed  the 
Greeks;  they 
firmly  believe 
that  the  Golden 
gates  will  at 
some  future  time, 
open  to  admit 
the  Christians, 
who,  they  are  per- 
suaded, will  ulti- 
mately reconquer 
the  beautiful 
city  of  the  Bos- 
phorus. 

Here  is  another  fanciful  story  : 

On  the  forum  of  Taurus,  or  the  Bull,  stood  a 

colossal  equestrian  statue,  a  masterpiece  of  art, 

which  passed  in  the  vulgar  opinion  for  Joshua, 

with  hand    extended,   staying  the  course  of  the 

descending  sun  ;   but  by  classic  scholars  was  de- 
29 


clared  to  be  Bellerophon  and  his  winged  horse, 
Pegasus ;  and  the  free  attitude  of  the  latter 
seemed  to  mark  that  he  trod  on  air  rather  than 


LANDING  OF  THE  CRUSADERS  AT  CONSTANTINOPLE. 


on  earth.  Xicetas,  contemporary  historian,  as- 
serts that,  according  to  an  old  tradition,  under 
the  left  fore  foot  of  the  horse  was  hidden  the  fig- 
ure of  a  man,  representing  a  Venetian,  a  Bul- 
garian, or  some  other  Western  enemy  of  the 
Roman  name.       So   much  pains,    however,    had 


450 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


been  taken  to  render  this  foot  firm  and  solid,  that 
it  was  impossible  to  put  the  truth  of  this  tradition 
to  the  test.  But  when,  after  the  capture  of  Con- 
stantinople, the  horse  and  its  rider  were  broken 
in  pieces,  and  sent  to  be  melted  clown,  the  figure 
was  discovered — the  Latins,  however,  caring 
nothing  for  the  traditions  attached  to  it,  cast  it 
into  the  flames  with  the  rest. 

It  is  said  that  the  Emperor  Michael  Paleologus, 
tormented  by  his  conscience  for  the  crimes  he  had 


Finally,  a  remarkable  prophecy  concerning  the 
Imperial  City  of  the  East  is  recorded  by  a 
Georgian  writer — probably  of  the  eighteenth 
century — whose  political  sagacity  made  a  bold 
leap  into  the  future.  He  pretends  that  on  the 
tomb  of  Constantine  the  Great  were  engraved  the 
words  :  "  Many  nations  shall  unite  upon  the 
Black  Sea  and  the  continent  ;  the  Ishmaelites 
shall  be  conquered  and  the  power  of  their  nation 
extinguished.     The  combined  peoples  of    Russia 


LEGENDARY   VISION    OF    CONSTANTINE- 


committed,  in  order  to  gratify  his  ambition,  and 
fearing  the  imperial  crown  would  not  descend  to 
his  family,  consulted  his  soothsayers  whether  his 
sou  would  enjoy  it  after  his  death.  The  oracle 
replied,  "Mancairni,"  which  seemed  incompre- 
hensible. But  the  soothsayers  explained  it  to 
mean  that  the  empire  would  be  possessed  by  as 
man}-  of  his  descendants  as  there  were  letters  in 
this  barbarous  word,  and  by  no  more.  The 
course  of  events  proved  the  truth  of  their  ex- 
planation. 


and  the  adjacent  territories  shall  take  possession 
of  the  Seven  Hills  and  the  country  round  about. " 
We  have  neither  the  space  nor  the  inclination 
to  enumerate  all  the  predictions  which  the  per- 
verted ingenuity  of  fanatics  has  wrested  out  of 
the  Apocalyptic  visions,  nor  to  repeat  the  names 
of  all  the  personages  to  whom  they  have  been 
applied.  How  many  times  has  the  number  of 
the  Beast  —  666  —  been  differently  rendered? 
Among  others,  it  has  been  identified  with  Trajan, 
Diocletian,  Mohammed,  Julian  the  Apostate,  with 


BEAUTIFUL   IN  THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


45? 


more  than  one  of  the  Popes,  Luther,  Calvin,  and, 
more  recently,  Napoleon  Bonaparte.  We  remem- 
ber to  have  seen  it  fixed,  in  an  advertisement  in 
a  London  paper,  upon  Napoleon  III. 

The  futility  of  political  prophecies  has  been 
demonstrated  in  our  own  time  ;  and  we  shall  pass 
on,  therefore,  to  some  illustrations  of  the  guesses 
at  the  approaching  end  of  the  world  which  form- 
erly terrified  mankind.  They  began,  indeed,  in 
the  earliest  years  of  Christianity,  through  a  mis- 
interpretation of  the  words  of  its  founder  ;  but 
as  generation  succeeded  generation,  and  yet  the 
dreaded  cataclysm  did  not  take  place,  men's 
minds  recovered  their  tranquillity.  After  the 
irruptions  of  the  Barbarians,  however,  when  the 
mighty  fabric  of  the  Roman  Empire  fell  with  a 
crash  that  resounded  throughout  Christendom, 
their  fears  revived ;  and  every  tempest,  every 
earthquake,  every  unusual  celestial  appearance, 
was  regarded  as  a  portent  of  the  day  of  judgment. 
In  the  fourth  century,  Hesychius,  Bishop  of  Sa- 
dona,  wrote  to  St.  Augustine  to  inquire  if  it  were 
true  that  the  end  of  the  world  was  at  hand  ? 
"No,"  said  the  great  Bishop  of  Hippo,  "that 
cannot  be,  for  it  is  written  that  the  Gospel  shall 
be  preached  everywhere  before  that  event  ar- 
rives. ' ' 

Year  after  year  the  catastrophe  was  postponed, 
until,  in  the  latter  part  of  the  ninth  century,  men 
once  more  fell  into  mortal  terror,  the  year  iooo 
being  definitely  assigned  as  the  utmost  limit  of 
the  world's  existence. 

"  It  was  a  time,"  says  Canon  Robertson,  "of 
gloomy  apprehensions.  The  approach  of  the 
thousandth  year  from  the  Saviour's  birth  had 
raised  a  general  belief  that  the  second  advent  was 
at  hand  ;  and,  in  truth,  there  was  much  which 
might  easily  be  construed  as  fulfilling  the  pre- 
dicted signs  of  the  end — wars  and  rumors  of  wars, 
famines  and  pestilences,  fearful  appearances  in 
the  heavens,  faith  passing  from  the  earth  and  love 
waning  cold.  The  preamble,  '  Whereas  the  end 
of  the  world  draweth  near,'  which  had  been  com- 
mon in  donations  to  churches  or  monasteries,  now 
assumed  a  new  and  more  urgent  significance ; 
and  the  belief  that  the  long  expectation  was  at 
length  to  be  accomplished,  did  much  to  revive 
the  power  and  wealth  of  the  clergy.  The  minds 
of  men  were  called  away  from  the  ordinary  cares 
and  employments  of  life  ;  even  our  knowledge  of 
history  has  suffered  in  consequence,  since  there 


was  little  inclination  to  bestow  labor  in  record- 
ing of  events,  when  no  posterity  was  exp2cted 
to  read  the  records.  Some  plunged  into  desper- 
ate recklessness  of  living  ;  an  eclipse  of  the  sun 
or  moon  was  the  signal  for  multitudes  to  seek 
a  hiding  place  in  dens  and  caves  of  the  earth  ; 
and  crowds  of  pilgrims  flocked  to  Palestine, 
where  the  Saviour  was  expected  to  appear  foi 
judgment." 

But  the  year  iooo  passed  away  without  any 
catastrophe,  and  the  world  again  breathed  freely. 
Thenceforward  a  belief  in  the  Second  Advent  re- 
appeared only  at  rare  intervals  and  among  a  limited 
number  of  persons. 

Astrologers,  however,  have  more  than  once 
struck  a  panic  to  the  hearts  of  men  by  their 
frightful  predictions.  In  1521  a  general  alarm 
prevailed,  owing  to  a  prediction  of  Johann  Stofner, 
a  celebrated  German  magician,  who  had  an- 
nounced a  great  deluge  for  the  month  of  February 
in  that  year.  The  alarm  spread  from  Germany 
into  France,  and  from  France  into  Italy,  and  over 
the  rest  of  Europe.  The  distinguished  Italian 
philosopher,  Augustine  Niso,  endeavored,  but  in 
vain,  to  alia}-  it  by  his  book,  "  De  Falsa  Diluvii 
Prognosticatione  "  (On  the  False  Prophecy  of  a 
Deluge). 

The  legendary   prediction   concerning   Easter, 

that 

When  my  lord  falls  in  my  lady's  lap, 
Let  England  beware  of  some  mishap  ; 

that  is,  when  the  Easter  festival  falls  near  to  L,ady 
Day,  has  given  rise  to  some  strange  coincidences. 
In  1S1S  Easter  Da}-  happened  on  the  22d  of 
March,  and  in  the  following  November  died 
Queen  Charlotte  ;  in  1826  it  fell  on  the  26th,  and 
the  year  was  saddened  by  wide-spread  and  alarm- 
ing commercial  disaster. 

The  credulity  of  the  human  mind  was  vividly 
illustrated  by  the  world  of  fashion  in  1750.  A 
smart  shock  of  earthquake  had  startled  all  Eng- 
land in  February,  and  was  succeeded  by  a  more 
violent  one  in  the  following  March.  The  con- 
sternation was  general,  and  bishops  and  clergy- 
men made  the  event  the  subject  of  numerous 
sermons,  homilies,  and  exhortations ;  while  it  is 
on  record  that  a  country  quack  reaped  a  golden 
harvest  by  selling  earthquake  pills.  Then  arose 
a  crazy-minded  life-guardsman,  solemnly  predict- 
ing that  a  third  and  special  fatal  shock  would 
occur  on   April   5.      The  polite  world,  as  it  is 


452 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


called,  took  fright ;  and  on  the  evening  preceding 
the  fatal  day  the  roads  out  of  London,  which  the 
earthquake  was  to  tumble  into  ruins,  were 
thronged  with  vehicles,  though  the  newspapers 
threatened  to  publish  ' '  an  exact  list  of  all  the 
nobility  and  gentry  who  have  left,  or  shall  leave, 
this  place  through  fear  of  another  earthquake." 
The  ladies  wrapped  themselves  in  ' '  earthquake 

ill 
n 


M/Ufj&' 


mm 


THE    THREE   CONSPIRATORS    DECIDING   TO    ASSASSINATE    CARDINAL   BEATON. 

gowns  "• — warm  gowns  intended  to  be  worn  while 
sitting  out  of  doors  all  night.  Not  a  few  persons 
spent  the  night  in  Hyde  Park,  sitting  in  their 
coaches,  and  playing  cards  by  the  light  of  wax 
candles.  "  What  will  you  think,"  writes  Horace 
Walpole,  "  of  Ladj-  Catharine  Pelham,  Lady 
Frances  Arundel,  and  Lord  and  Lad}'  Galway, 
who  go  this  evening  to  an  inn  ten  miles  out  of 
town,  where  they  are  to  play  brag  till  four  o'clock 


in  the  morning,  and  then  come  back,  I  suppose, 
to  look  for  the  bones  of  their  husbands  and  families 
under  the  rubbish  ? ' ' 

Some  predictions,  by  the  mental  anxiety  they 
occasion,  work  out  their  own  fulfilments.  When 
Peter  and  John  de  Carvajal  had  been  found  guilty 
of  murder,  on  most  inadequate  evidence,  and  sen- 
tenced to  be  thrown  from  the  summit  of  a  rock, 
Ferdinand  IV.,  who  was 
then  King  of  Spain  (1362), 
could  not  be  induced  to  par- 
don them.  As  they  were  led 
to  execution  they  called  upon 
God  to  witness  their  inno- 
cence, and  appealed  to  his 
tribunal,  before  which  they 
summoned  the  King  to  ap- 
pear in  thirty  days'  time. 
Ferdinand  laughed  at  the 
summons ;  but  some  days 
afterward  fell  sick,  and  re- 
tired to  his  country  place  to 
recover  his  health  and  divert 
his  mind,  hoping  to  shake 
off  the  remembrance  of  the 
summons,  which  troubled 
him  in  spite  of  his  laughter. 
On  the  thirtieth  day  he 
seemed  better,  and  was  very 
merry  and  cheerful,  ridicul- 
ing the  uneasiness  he  had 
experienced ;  he  retired  to 
rest  as  usual,  but  was  found 
dead  in  his  bed  the  next 
morning. 

Similar  incidents  have  oc- 
curred in  history,  and  dra- 
matist and  poet  have  made 
effective  use  of  them. 

The  alleged  prophecy  of 
George  Wishart,  the  Scottish 
martyr,  respecting  the  death 
of  Cardinal  Beaton,  may  be  classed  among  these 
remarkable  coincidences.  Through  the  unrelent- 
ing severity  of  the  Cardinal,  Wishart  was  con- 
demned to  be  burnt  as  a  heretic,  in  front  of  the 
castle  of  St.  Andrew's,  on  the  1st  of  March,  1546. 
As  he  proceeded  to  the  place  of  execution  he  saw 
his  persecutor  sitting  in  a  balcony,  to  watch  the 
sufferings  of  his  victim,  and,  as  if  suddenly  in- 
spired, called  upon  him  to  appear  before  the  divine 


.v:i 
I 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


453 


tribunal  within  sixty  days.  If  so  happened  that 
on  the  29th  of  May  following  the  great  churchman 
was  assassinated  by  John  L,ister,  James  Melville 
and  Carmichael.  "  Repent  thee,"  cried  Melville, 
"  of  thy  former  wicked  life,  but  especially  of  the 
shedding  of  the  blood  of  that  instrument  of  God, 
Mr.  George  Wishart,  which,  albeit  the  flames  of 
fire  consumed  before  noon,  yet  cries  it  with  a  ven- 
geance upon  thee ;  and  we  from  God  are  sent  to 


by  one  foot,  for  all  the  people  to  gaze  at.     But  it 

is  right  to  say  that  some  doubt  attaches  to  the 
authenticity  of  this  story. 


I  HATE  THE  DRUM'S   DISCORDANT    SOUND. 

I  HATE  the  drum's  discordant  sound, 
Parading  round,  and  round,  and  round  : 
To  thoughtless  youth  it  pleasure  yields, 
And  lures  from  cities  and  from  fields, 


I    HATE   THE   DRUM  S   DISCORDANT  SOUND. 


revenge  it.  I  protest  that  neither  the  hatred  of 
thy  person,  the  love  of  thy  riches,  or  the  fear  of 
any  trouble  thou  couldst  have  done  to  me  in  par- 
ticular, moved  or  move  me  to  strike  thee,  but 
only  because  thou  hast  been,  and  remainest,  an 
obstinate  enemy  to  Christ  and  his  holy  Evangel." 
A.nd  so  he  struck  him  twice  or  thrice  through  with 
a  sword,  and  he  fell,  shrieking  miserably  :  "I  am 
a  priest !  I  am  a  priest !  Fie  !  Fie  !  All  is  gone  !"  As 
soon  as  he  was  dead  his  murderers  took  his  body 
and  hung  it  over  the  castle  wall  by  one  arm  and 


To  sell  their  liberty  for  charms 
Of  tawdry  lace,  and  glittering  arms  , 
And  when  Ambition's  voice  commands, 
To  march,  and  fight,  and  fall  in  foreign  lands. 

I  hate  the  drum's  discordant  sound, 
Parading  round,  and  round,  and  round  : 
To  me  it  talks  of  ravaged  plains, 
And  burning  towns,  and  ruined  swains, 
And  mangled  limbs,  and  dying  groans, 
And  widows'  tears,  and  orphans'  moans  ; 
And  all  that  misery's  hand  bestows 
To  fill  the  catalogue  of  human  woes. 


434    THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND  THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


A  HISTORY  OF  MARRIAGE. 

CHE  legal  definition  of  marriage,  in  all  Chris- 
tian countries,  is  the  conjugal  union  of  one 
man  with  one  woman.  In  Catholic  countries  the 
ceremony  is  regarded  as  a  sacrament  of  the  church ; 
but  in  Protestant  nations,  so  far  as  the  mere  law 
is  concerned,  it  stands  in  the  relation  of  a  civil 
contract  only,  though  custom,  and  the  romance 
necessarily  connected  with  it,  give  it  a  character 
of  sacredness  far  above  a  common  agreement.  In 
the  United  States,  magistrates,  equally  with  cler- 
gymen, have  a  right  to  solemnize  the  marriage 
ceremony  ;  but  a  mere  legal  wedding  is  regarded 
with  disfavor  by  nearly  all  classes  of  the  people, 
and  it  is,  therefore,  the  usual  custom  to  have  the 
ceremoii}'  performed  by  a  clergyman,  which  is  in 
just  conformity  with  the  sentiment  of  sacredness 
inseparably  united  with  it. 

There  is  one  singular  fact  connected  with  the 
laws  of  marriage  which  is  not  generally  known, 
namely,  that  no  person  can  enter  into  a  binding 
agreement  not  to  marry.  Contracts  in  restraint  of 
marriage,  in  any  and  every  form,  are  wholly  void, 
by  the  universal  policy  of  the  law,  and  no  action 
can  be  maintained  under  any  such  promise  or 
obligation.  Marriage  having  been  instituted  by 
the  Creator,  and  enforced  and  perpetuated  by  the 
requirements  of  nature,  is  considered  as  being 
above  all  the  restraints  of  human  contracts  and 
•enactments. 

In  Germany  there  is  a  law  which  permits  a  man 
to  marry  without  bestowing  upon  his  wife  his  civil 
or  political  rank,  and  in  such  cases,  while  the 
woman  is  his  real  wife  in  every  respect,  she  is 
designated  legally  as  a  "  half- wife, "  (Hatbweib). 
This  sort  of  union  was  discountenanced  by  the 
church,  but  when  contracted  seriously  it  was  held 
to  be  indissoluble.  We  believe  there  is  also  a 
similar  custom  in  the  same  country  relative  to 
the  marriage  of  women  of  rank  with  men  of  a 
lower  station,  whereby  the  man  assumes  the  name 
of  the  woman,  and  becomes  a  half-husband,  though 
he  is  in  fact,  as  well  as  law,  a  real  husband. 

In  the  early  history  of  the  Catholic  Church 
priests  were  not  forbidden  to  marry,  but  were 
simply  admonished,  by  the  advice  of  St.  Paul,  to 
remain  single,  as  it  was  thought  they  were  better 
qualified,  in  that  state,  to  administer  the  duties 
of  their  sacred  office.  Consequently  most  of  the 
priests  married  and  reared  families,  and  this  cus- 
tom prevailed  until  about  the  12th  centmy. 


In  England  priestly  celibacy  was  not  fully  ac- 
complished until  during  the  reign  of  Henry  I., 
though  man}-  previous  efforts  had  been  made  to 
bring  it  about. 

In  1077,  during  the  reign  of  William  the  Con- 
queror, Pope  Gregory  VII.  attempted  to  enforce 
celibacy  among  the  English  clergy,  but  he  en- 
countered the  opposition  of  William,  who  had  de- 
termined   to    resist    the    encroachments    of  the 
Roman    Pontiffs  upon   his   kingly  prerogatives. 
Gregory  affected  an  anxious  care  for  the  purity 
of  manners  ;  and  he  declared  that  even  the  chaste 
pleasures  of  the  marriage  relation  were  inconsist- 
ent with  the  sanctit}-  of  the  sacerdotal  office.     He 
accordingly  issued  a  decree  prohibiting  the  mar- 
riage   of  priests,    excommunicating   all    clergy- 
men who  should  refuse  to  abandon  their  wives, 
and  rendering  it  criminal  in  the  people  to  attend 
services  conducted  by  such  profane  priests.     This 
decree  was  a  blow  at  the  very  root  and  foundation 
of  society  ;  it  meant  the  destruction  of  family  ties, 
the   separation  of  thousands   of  husbands   from 
their  wives,  and  the  abandonment  of  helpless  and 
innocent  children.     It  was  a  measure  that  cost 
the  Church  more  pains  than  the  propagation  of 
any   other  doctrine  it   had  ever    previously    at- 
tempted.    Many  synods  were  summoned  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  Europe  before  it  was  finally  settled, 
for    it   affected    those   interests    and    sentiments 
which  all  men  hold  dearer  than  life,  and  nothing 
but  the  blind  obedience  of  the  age  could  ever  have 
driven  the  clergy  to  the  acceptance  of  such  a  de- 
cree.    It  was  observed  that  the  younger  priests 
offered  less  opposition  to  the  Pope's  requirements 
than  those  who  were  more   advanced  in   years, 
and  whose  family  connections  and  habits  of  life 
were  consequently  more  firmly  fixed.     A  tempor- 
ary compromise  was  finally  effected,  by  which  it 
was  enacted  that  none  except  those  who  belonged 
to  collegiate  and  cathedral  churches  should  be  re- 
quired to  separate  from  their  wives.     But  the  con- 
troversy continued  through  the  remainder  of  Will- 
iam's reign,  as  well  as  that  of  William  Rufus  his 
successor,  the  Church  gradually  and  steadily  ad- 
vancing in  its  purpose,  until  in  n  16,  during  the 
reign  of  Henry  I. ,  at  a  synod  called  by  the  legate  of 
London,  a  vote  was  passed  enacting  severe  penal- 
ties on  the  marriages  of  priests  ;  but  even  then  the 
measure  was  not  rigidly  enforced  until  some  years 
later,  owing  to  an  indiscretion  of  the   presiding 
bishop,  in  seeking  the  company  of  a  woman  of 


A   MARRIAGE   CEREMONY   IN   ITALY   DURING  THE   MIDDLE   AGES. 


(455) 


456     THE  WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND  THE  BEAUTIFUL. 

pleasure  the  night  following  his  most  earnest  contempt,  but  the  authorities  at  Rome  persisted 
harangue  in  favor  of  the  sanctity  of  the  priestly  in  their  determination  and  eventually  accom- 
'Pi^^i3^    SSSSiM^  plished  their  pur- 

';*iy2k  \f1w« '  i  fl     pose- 

&A-%  Marriage,  like 

nearly  every  thing 
else,  has  devel- 
oped, through 
the  natural  laws 
of  evolution,  from 
a  barbarous  union 
of  the  sexes,  to  its 
present  position 
as  the  most  ten- 
der, sacred  and 
important  rela- 
tion in  human 
affairs.  There  is 
a  vast  difference 
between  the  rude 
:  and  forcible 
=  seizure  of  a  wife, 
:  according  to  the 
j  custom  of  barba- 
:  rous  ages,  and 
;  the  pomp  and 
;  circumstance  of 
:  the  English 
;  Episcopal  or 
Catholic  service 
:  and  ceremony, 
where  officiate  a 
bishop,  a  deacon, 
an  archdeacon, 
the  scholarly 
head  of  a  great 
seat  of  learning, 
together  with  the 
clergy  of  the 
richest  religious 
foundations  in  the 
kingdom,  all  clad 
in  the  splendid 
sacerdotal  vest- 
ments and  robes 
of  a  powerful 
Church,  while 
around,  met  to 
witness  the  mar- 
office.  This  incident  caused  the  measure  to  be  riage,  are  assembled  the  flower  of  the  reigning 
regarded,  for  the  time  being,   with    derision  and      nouse,  of  the  nobilitv  and  of  the  Commons— illus- 


A    STUDY   OF    I.OVE. 


(457) 


458     THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


trious  statesmen,  artists,  men  of  letters,  of  science 
— accompanied  by  the  fairest  women  in  the  realm  ; 
while  in  the  midst  of  this  dazzling  scene,  in  front 
of  the  steps  of  the  altar,  are  the  groom  and  his 
bride,  the  latter  resplendent  in  pearls  and  dia- 
monds. 

In  contrast  with  this  splendid  and  beautiful 
scene,  students  of  history  will  recall  the  seizure 
of  the  Sabine  women  by  the  early  Romans.  This 
is  an  example  of  the  uncivilized  marriage  by  cap- 
ture. As  men  gather  into  society  and  build  cities 
and  form  states,  the  institution  of  property  modi- 
fies the  marriage  by  capture  into  marriage  by 
purchase,  as  exemplified  in  the  annual  marriage 
market  of  the  Babylonians.  Wicked  old  Babylon 
did  not  mean  to  have  any  old  maids  on  her  hands, 
and  so  she  declared  that  every  marriageable  girl 
should  be  put  up  and  sold  once  a  year  at  public 
auction.  But  as  only  the  pretty  girls  found  hus- 
bands by  this  device,  the  price  for  the  pretty  ones 
was  turned  into  the  public  coffers  as  dowries  for 
their  homely  sisters.  In  this  way  that  terrible 
old  sinner  found  husbands  for  all  her  girls.  Those 
men  whom  she  could -not  catch  with  beauty  she 
snared  with  money. 

We  learn  from  history  that  the  girls  themselves 
were  not  averse  to  this  arrangement,  and  that  on 
the  days  of  their  public  sales  they  decked  them- 
selves out  in  their  prettiest  and  most  bewitching 
attire,  and  sat  babbling  as  only  young  girls  can 
on  the  elevated  platform  where  they  were  exposed 
to  the  view  of  their  future  husbands — or,  most 
likely,  masters.  It  was  for  those  poor,  ignorant 
creatures  a  delightful  holiday,  and  the  delicious 
realization  of  their  maidenly  dreams,  particularly 
when  they  were  so  fortunate  as  to  become  the 
property  of  rich,  handsome  or  influential  youths. 

The  old  Roman  marriage  custom  was  more 
humane  and  romantic,  and  nearer  in  accord  with 
the  modern  style.  When  the  hearts  of  a  Roman 
m;  ti  and  woman  beat  as  one,  and  they  were  reach- 
to  make  public  announcement  of  this  interesting 
face,  the  woman  placed  herself  in  the  arms  of  the 
iiie:i  in  the  presence  of  ten  witnesses,  then  the 
tw  lin  ate  together  an  unleavened  farina  cake  pre- 
viously blessed  by  the  priest.  This  was  the  be- 
tro:hal.  On  the  day  when  the  separate  legal 
existence  of  the  two  ended,  and  the  union  of 
their  lives  began,  the  woman  was  conducted  to 
the  house  of  her  betrothed,  with  a  veil  over  her 
face  and  a  distaff  in  her  hand.     Upon  stepping 


over  the  threshold  of  her  new  home,  between  two 
youths,  and  lighted  with  the  torch  of  a  third,  she 
placed  herself  upon  a  sheepskin  rug  spread  just 
within  the  door,  and  called  to  her  beloved,  who 
incontinently  answered  the  soft  coo  of  his  mate, 
and  delivered  to  her  the  key  of  the  love  cote. 
When  together  they  touched  fire  and  water,  in 
token  of  purity  and  fidelity,  whereupon  they  were 
declared  man  and  wife  by  the  sanction  of  the 
gods  and  the  legal  authorities.  This  was  an  ex- 
ceedingly beautiful  as  well  as  romantic  marriage 
custom,  and  could  be  introduced  with  excellent 
effect  into  our  modern  ceremonies. 

The  Indian  wedding  ceremony  is  illustrated  by 
the  marriage  of  Pocahontas  and  John  Rolf.  It 
was  short  and  simple,  but  doubtless  answered  all 
practical  purposes.  The  bride  and  groom,  joining 
hands,  jumped  together  over  a  broomstick,  after 
which  they  turned  and  blew  at  one  another  through 
their  lips  from  the  reservoir  of  wind  stored  in 
their  puffed-out  cheeks.  Such  a  ceremony  no 
doubt  appeared  very  curious,  if  not  ridiculous,  to 
those  who  witnessed  it,  but  if  history  is  to  be 
relied  upon,  Pocahontas  made  a  most  excellent 
and  loving  little  wife,  and  many  proud  families 
and  distinguished  men  and  women  of  the  Old 
Dominion  have  congratulated  themselves  upon 
having  the  biood  of  this  Indian  princess  in  their 
veins — among  others,  no  less  a  personage  than 
Jhe  celebrated  John  Randolph,  of  Roanoke. 

In  Japan  a  wedding  is  a  very  close  and  exclu- 
sive affair.  Usually  no  one  but  a  blood  relation 
is  admitted  as  a  spectator.  Rarely,  therefore,  has 
a  foreigner  ever  seen  a  Japanese  nuptial  celebra- 
tion. Their  marriage  custom  is  very  curious. 
The  only  dowry  which  a  bride  takes  to  her  hus- 
band is  her  trousseau,  which  is  extensive  enough 
to  satisfy  all  her  feminine  passion  for  dress.  The 
husband's  expectation  is  realized  if  the  wife'  pos- 
sesses amiability  and  housewifely  ability — the 
very  best  dowry  which  any  woman  can  convey  to 
the  man  whom  she  marries. 

At  "  sweet  16  "  the  betrothed  maiden  becomes 
a  wife,  and  the  man  a  husband  at  20.  The  nup- 
tials are  at  night.  On  the  morning  of  the  wed- 
ding da>*  the  bridal  trousseau  is  taken  to  the  house 
of  the  bridegroom,  and  if  she  has  any  pieces  of 
furniture,  these  also  are  carried  to  her  future 
home.  The  household  goods  of  both  families,  in 
their  counterfeit  presentments,  are  assembled  before 
an  altar,  decked  with  flowers  and  covered  with 


(459) 


460    THE  WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


offerings.  Near  by  stands  a  lacquer  table  with  a 
dwarf  cedar,  holding  also  the  figures  of  the  Japan- 
ese Adam  and  Eve  and  the  mystic  turtle  and  stork. 

Toward  high  noon  of  the  happy  day  the  wed- 
ding company,  splendid  in  variegated  costume, 
proceeds  to  the  fete.  Then  the  bride  in  spotless 
white,  with  a  veil  over  her  face,  goes  out  between 
two  friends,  and  is  followed  by  a  procession  of 
relatives  no  less  splendid  than  the  one  approach- 
ing to  meet  them.  The  two  friends  are  called  the 
male  and  female  butterflies.  In  their  dress  they 
imitate  the  brilliant  coloring  on  the  wings  of  this 
insect,  which  in  Japan  is  the  symbol  of  conjugal 
felicity. 

The  most  solemn  form  of  the  ceremony  is  the 
scene  of  the  two-mouth  vase,  ornamented  with 
bauds  of  dainty  colored  paper.  At  a  given  signal 
one  of  the  butterflies  fills  the  vase,  the  other  offers 
it  to  the  lips  of  the  kneeling  couple,  the  husband 
drinking  first,  the  wife  afterward.  It  is  their  first 
draught  of  mortal  bliss,  the  pledge  and  promise 
that  henceforth  they  are  to  partake  equally  of  the 
bitter-sweet  of  coming  years. 

The  Russian  marriage  feast  is  a  rude  and  boist- 
erous affair,  in  keeping  with  the  character  of  that 
people.  After  the  ceremony  in  the  chapel,  ac- 
cording to  the  rites  of  the  Greek  Church,  the 
happy  couple  repair  to  the  home  of  the  bride, 
where  the  feast  is  served.  Here  are  gathered 
huge,  rough  looking  men  and  women  in  caps  and 
furs,  who  indulge  in  boisterous  laughter  and 
coarse  jests  that  bring  the  blood  of  shame  to  the 
cheeks  of  the  shrinking  bride.  In  no  other  coun- 
try would  such  tilings  be  tolerated,  not  even 
among  the  lower  grades  of  society  ;  but  unfor- 
tunately Russia  is  still  the  only  nation,  pretend- 
ing to  civilization,  which  remains  under  the  heel 
of  a  despotic  ruler,  and  the  people  are  conse- 
quently no  further  advanced  than  the  Middle-Age 
state  of  refinement. 

A  Dutch  psasant  wedding  represents  a  scene  of 
love  and  hilarious  enjoyment,  untainted  by  the 
coarseness  of  the  Russian  ceremony.  The  wed- 
ding guests  dance  in  all  the  stages  of  rustic  agil- 
ity and  glorious  fun,  to  the  music  of  the  hurdy- 
gurdy,  while  the  happy  pair,  seated  or  standing, 
the  man  awkardly  embracing  his  wife,  whispers 
in  her  ear  the  honeyed  gibberish  of  his  rustic  af- 
fections, to  which  she  listens  in  a  constrained, 
passive,  foolishly-happy  sort  of  wa}^ 

The  ancient  Hebrew  ceremony  was  an  elabo- 


rate and  brilliant  affair.  On  the  morning  of  the 
wedding  day  a  splendid  canopy  of  scarlet  silk  or 
velvet  was  erected  out  of  doors  ;  four  poles  sup- 
ported the  canopy  and  four  men  supported  the 
poles.  The  groom  was  then  led  under  the  canopy 
by  one  of  his  male  friends,  to  the  strains 
of  instrumental  music.  As  he  passed  under  the 
pavilion  the  spectators  burst  into  the  joyous  salu- 
tation :  "Blessed  is  he  who  is  now  come. "After 
him  came  the  bride,  led  by  a  female  friend  under 
the  nuptial  canopy  and  three  times  around  the 
groom.  Then  the  bridegroom  took  her  once 
around,  receiving  as  they  went  the  congratu'  i- 
tions  of  those  present.  He  then  placed  her  at  his 
right,  and  so  together  they  stood  with  their  faces 
to  the  north,  and  their  backs  to  the  south.  There- 
upon the  Rabbi  covered  the  pair  with  the  mar- 
riage wrapper  of  the  bridegroom,  joined  their 
hands  and  said  a  blessing  over  a  cup  of  wine, 
which  they  touched  with  their  lips. 

After  this  the  groom  slipped  a  plain  gold  ling 
on  the  finger  of  his  spouse.  Then,  following  the 
reading  of  the  marriage  settlement  by  the  officiat- 
ing rabbi,  the  ceremony  of  the  cup  of  wine  was 
repeated,  varied  this  time  by  a  rabbinical  reading 
of  the  "seven  benedictions,"  and  the  dramatic 
breaking  of  the  cup  by  the  bridegroom,  in  token 
that  the  marriage  just  consummated  could  never 
be  broken.  At  the  sound  of  shivering  glass, 
"May  you  be  happy!  "  pealed  from  the  throats 
of  the  festive  company,  and  the  two  were  no  more 
twain,  but  one  flesh,  for  thus  saith  the  Lord. 

The  union  of  the  sexes  must  ever  continue  to 
be  associated  with  sentiments  of  tenderness  and 
romance,  and  the  eternal  fitness  of  things  requires 
that  it  should  be  so.  The  little  "god  of  love," 
that  beautiful  creation  of  the  ancient  poets,  will 
never  cease  to  be  an  object  of  tender  interest, 
if  not  of  worship,  on  the  part  of  those  who  pos- 
sess young  hearts  and  warm  affections.  In  :.he 
blooming  months  of  spring  the  maiden's  mind 
runs  unconsciously  upon  thoughts  of  love,  and  in 
every  budding  flower  and  blushing  rose  she  ex- 
pects to  find  a  Cupid,  with  roguish  lips  and  bent 
bow,  ready  to  pierce  her  heart  with  the  divine 
passion 


THE  WAR  OF  THE  ROSEJ. 

CHE  civil  war  in  England  known  as  "  The  War 
of  the  Roses"  was  a  contest  for  the  throne 
between  the  houses  of  York  and  Lancaster.     It 


CUPID    AND    THE    MAIDEN 


462 


IHE   WONDERFUL.   THE   CURIOUS,   AXD   THE 


T 


began  with  the  battle  of  St.  Albans,  May  22,  1455, 
and  continued,  with  occasional  intermissions,  for 
a  period  of  more  than  twenty  years.  During  its 
progress  upwards  of  sixty  princes  of  the  blood  per- 
ished, fully  one-half  of  the  nobility  were  exter- 
minated, and  it  is  estimated  ihat  more  than  one 
hundred  thousand  soldiers  fell  in  the  various  bat- 
tles that  were  fought.  All  England  was  a  scene 
of  carnage,  and  every  house  became  a  fortress, 
merely  to  decide,  quaintly  remarks  a  well-known 
historian,  "whether  the  son  of  a  fifth  son  by 
male  descent,  and  of  a  third  son  by  the  female 
Line,  or  the  son  of  a  fourth  son,  had  a  better  claim 
to  the  crown  of  England." 

The  Duke  of  York  was  a  title  formerly  con- 
ferred upon  the  younger  sons  of  the  kings  of 
England,  the  first  to  bear  it  being  Edward  Plan- 
tageuet,  fifth  son  of  Edward  III.  and  Queen 
Philippa,  whose  romantic  love-story  is  told  in  the 
history  of  Oueen  Isabella,  of  England,  in  another, 
part  of  this  volume.  Edward  was  created  Duke 
of  York  on  the  6th  of  August,  13S5. 

Twenty-three  years  previously,  on  the  13th  of 
November,  1362,  his  elder  brother,  John  of  Gaunt, 
the  fourth  son  of  Edward  and  Philippa,  had  been 
created  Duke  of  Lancaster ;  and  these  two  brothers 
became  the  founders  of  the  rival  houses  which, 
nearly  a  century  later,  deluged  England  with  the 
fratricidal  blood  of  a  civil  war.  At  the  commence- 
ment of  the  war  the  house  of  York  adopted  a 
white  rose  as  its  emblem,  and  the  house  of  Lan- 
caster a  red  rose  ;  hence  the  designation  of  ''The 
War  of  the  Roses." 

A  better  understanding  of  the  dispute  can  be 
reached  by  tracing  the  descent  of  the  house  of 
York  :  The  first  Duke  was  succeeded  by  his  son 
Edward,  who  was  killed  at  the  battle  of  Agincourt, 
in  1415,  and  wras  succeeded  by  his  nephew  Richard, 
son  of  Anne  Mortimer,  who  was  great-grand- 
daughter of  Lionel,  Duke  of  Clarence,  the  third 
son  of  Edward  III.  and  Philippa.  It  was  by  vir- 
tue of  this  descent  from  the  Duke  of  Clarence  that 
the  house  alleged  its  superior  right  over  that  of 
Lancaster,  which  was  descended  from  a  fourth 
son.  The  title  of  Duke  of  York  was  subsequently 
borne  by  Edward  Planfagenet,  known  in  history 
as  Edward  IY. ;  Richard  Plantagenet,  supposed 
lo  have  been  murdered  in  the  Tower  by  his  uncle 
Richard  III.,  in  14S3  ;  Henry  Tudor,  the  sanguin- 
ary Henry  VIII. ,  of  history;  Charles  Stuart, 
known  as  Charles  I.,  who  was  beheaded  through 


the  influence  of  Cromwell ;  and  James  Stuart,  who 
became  James  II. ,  of  England.  The  title  was 
afterward  conferred  by  the  pretender  James  III., 
on  his  second  sou,  Henry  Benedict,  who  is  known 
in  history  as  Cardinal  York,  the  last  of  the  royal 
family  of  Stuarts. 

The  War  of  the  Roses  began  during  the  reign 
of  Henry  VI.,  the  third  and  last  monarch  of  the 
Lancasterian  dynasty.  He  was  born  in  Windsor, 
December  6,  142 1,  and  crowned  on  the  1st  of  the 
following  September,  the  day  after  the  death  of  his 
father,  Henry  V.,  when  only  nine  months  old. 
Parliament  declared  him  king  of  France  and 
England  and  Lord  of  Ireland,  and  made  his  Uncle, 
the  Duke  of  Bedford,  protector,  defender  and 
chief  counsellor  of  the  kingdom  and  church,  with 
the  provision  that  his  younger  brother,  the  Duke 
of  Gloucester,  should  act  in  his  stead  during  his 
absence.  A  month  later,  in  October,  1422 ; 
Charles  VI.,  of  France,  died,  and  the  infant 
Henry  was  proclaimed  king  of  France  in  all 
those  parts  of  that  country  which  were  in  the 
possession  of  the  English,  while  the  French 
placed  their  crown  upon  the  head  of  Charles 
YIL,  afterward  called  the  Victorious,  fifth  son  of 
their  deceased  monarch.  A  long  struggle  followed 
between  the  supporters  of  Henry  and  those  of 
Charles,  in  which  the  English  were  generally  vic- 
torious, until  Joan  of  Arc,  the  famous  Maid  of 
Orleans,  appeared  upon  the  scene  and  by  her  heroic 
valor  and  enthusiasm  turned  the  scale  in  favor  of 
the  French. 

Henry  was  a  weak  prince,  of  an  amiable  dis- 
position, but  subject  to  fits  of  insanity,  which  re- 
curred at  intervals  during  his  entire  life.  His 
wife,  the  beautiful  Margaret  of  Anjou,  on  the  con- 
trary, was  a  woman  of  superior  intellect,  indomi- 
table will,  and  heroic  courage.  During  their 
joint  reign  she  was  the  real  ruler. 

Margaret  was  the  daughter  of  the  Duke  of 
Lorraine  and  Count  of  Provence,  who  was  also  titu- 
lar king  of  Sicily  and  Jerusalem.  She  was  born 
on  the  23d  of  March,  1429,  and  died  on  the  25th 
of  August,  14S1,  having  compressed  into  the  short 
period  of  her  life  about  as  many  startling  events 
as  any  other  celebrated  woman  the  world  has  pro- 
duced. Reports  of  her  wonderful  beauty  having 
reached  Henry,  he  requested  that  her  portrait 
should  be  obtained  for  his  inspection.  This  por- 
trait showed  her  to  be  even  more  beautiful  than 
she  had  been  represented,  and  Henry  was  instantly 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


463 


captivated.  The  marriage  was  favored  by  Charles 
VII.,  of  France,  hoping  that  it  would  prove  the 
basis  of  a  peace  between  the  two  countries. 
Henry's  devotion  was  so  blind  and  overpower- 
ing that  he  rushed  into  the  alliance  against  the 
will  of  the  powerful  leaders  by  whom  he  was  sur- 
rounded, and  this  indiscretion  in  the  matter  of  his 
marriage  was  probably  the  real  cause  of  his  future 
political  troubles.  For  the  purpose  of  hastening 
matters  he  sent  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  to  Nancy,  in 
France,  where  Margaret  and  her  parents  were  at 
that  time  residing,  and  the  marriage  ceremony 
"was  performed  with  Suffolk  as  Henry's  proxy. 
Margaret  did  not  reach  England  until  the  follow- 
ing April,  when  the  marriage  was  proclaimed  at 
Titchfield  Abbey  on  the  2  2d  of  that  month.  Her 
strong  will  dominated  over  the  weak  disposition 
of  her  husband,  and  she  became  unpopular  with 
the  ruling  classes  of  her  adopted  country.  This 
ill  feeling  was  aggravated  by  the  disasters  to  the 
English  arms  in  France,  the  war  with  that  coun- 
try having  meanwhile  been  resumed.  Popular 
attention  began  to  be  directed  toward  Richard, 
Duke  of  York,  as  the  rightful  heir  to  the  throne. 
As  previously  stated,  he  was  descended  from  the 
third  son  of  Edward  III.,  while  Edward  himself 
was  descended  from  the  fourth  son,  and  this  fact, 
added  to  Henry's  weakness  and  Margaret's  un- 
popularity, encouraged  the  Duke  of  York,  who 
was  much  loved  because  of  his  bravery,  mildness, 
and  good  conduct  in  public  and  private  life.  It 
was  believed,  however,  that  so  long  as  no  offspring 
followed  from  the  marriage  of  Henry  and  Mar- 
garet, York  would  peaceably  succeed  to  the  throne 
on  the  king's  death,  and  this  opinion  prevented 
any  overt  acts.  But  on  the  13th  of  October,  1453, 
Margaret's  only  child,  Edward,  was  born. 

Henry  was  at  that  time  suffering  from  one  of 
his  periodical  fits  of  imbecility,  and  the  enemies 
of  Margaret  claimed  that  her  son  was  either  the 
offspring  of  adultery  or  a  supposititious  child. 
The  Duke  of  York  was  made  protector,  but  on  the 
restoration  of  the  king's  health  he  was  dismissed, 
whereupon  he  appealed  to  arms,  and  the  first 
shock  of  battle  took  place  at  St.  Albans,  May  22, 
1455,  resulting  in  a  complete  victory  for  the  York- 
ists, or  party  of  the  White  Rose.  This  was  the 
a:tual  commencement  of  the  war  of  the  roses. 
The  administration  passed  temporarily  into  the 
hands  of  the  Duke  of  York,  but  the  following 
year   Henry's    authority   was  restored,   although 


the  control  of  the  government  was  virtually  in 
Margaret's  hands.  A  bitter  personal  feeling  had 
long  existed  between  the  queen  and  the  Earl  of 
Warwick,  who  was  the  most  powerful  of  the 
Yorkist  leaders,  and  this  personal  enmity  caused  a 
renewal  of  the  war.  The  first  battles  were  favor- 
able to  the  Eancasterian  part}',  but  in  1460,  at  the 
decisive  action  of  Northampton,  they  were  de- 
feated by  Warwick,  and  the  king  was  captured. 
York  now  demanded  the  throne,  and  parliament 
decided  that  he  should  succeed  to  it  on  Henry's 
death,  the  duke  in 
the  mean  time  to  ad- 
minister the  govern- 
ment. 

In  this  crisis  Mar- 
garet rose  above  the 
difficulties  by  which 
she  was  surrounded, 
and  exhibited  the 
remarkable  courage 
a  n  d  determination 
of  her  character. 
She  gathered  about 
her  the  leaders  of  the 
red  rose  part}',  and 
assembling  a  small 
army,  she  impetu- 
ously attacked  the 
superior  forces  of  the 
white  roses,  at 
Wakefield,  on  the 
30th  of  December, 
1460,  and  her  troops 
being  animated  by 
thusiasm,  won  a  complete  victory 
York  being  slain  in  the  battle, 
later,  on  the  17th  of  February,  1461,  she  fought 
the  second  battle  of  St.  Albans,  and  won  another 
brilliant  victory,  by  which  her  husband,  who 
had  meanwhile  been  held  as  a  prisoner,  was  once 
more  restored  to  his  friends. 

But  other  events  were  occurring  which  were  to 
result  in  the  complete  overthrow  of  the  party  of 
the  red  rose.  Immediately  after  the  death  of  the 
Duke  of  York,  his  eldest  son,  Edward,  then  only 
nineteen  years  of  age,  put  himself  at  the  head  of 
an  army  of  Welsh  mountaineers,  and  defeated  a 
formidable  force  under  the  Earls  of  Pembroke  and 
Ormond,  near  Hereford.  After  the  defeat  of  War- 
wick at  the  second  battle  of  St.  Albans,  Edward 


own 


DUKE   OF  YORK. 

courage   and  en- 
the  Duke  of 

Two   months 


U64) 


MURDER    OF    THOMAS    A    BECKET. 


THE    BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


405 


inarched  directly  to  London,  which  he  entered 
without  opposition.  Here  his  youth,  boldness, 
and  manly  beauty  rendered  him  a  universal 
favorite,  and  on  the  4th  of  March,  1461,  he  was 
proclaimed  king  by  the  parliament. 

Margaret,  finding  the  gates  of  London  closed 
against  her,  and  vigorous  preparations  being  made 
for  an  attack  upon  her  forces,  retreated  toward  the 
north,  and  was 
pursued  b  y 
young  Edward 
at  the  head  of 
an  army  about 
equal  to  her  own 
in  numbers. 
They  met  upon 
the  marshy 
plain  near  Tow- 
ton,  and  here 
was  fought,  on 
the  29th  of 
March,  1461, 
the  bloodiest 
battle  in  the 
whole  history 
of  England. 
The  two  armies 
were  nearly 
equal,  number- 
ing about  50,000 
on  each  side, 
and  within  their 
ranks  were  con- 
centrated the 
accumulated 
hatreds  of  years 
of  civil  strife. 
Each  party  pro- 
claimed that  no 
quarter  should 
be  given,  and 
the  riot  of  mur-  battle  of 

der  had  full  sway.  The  battle  began  early  in  the 
morning,  and  continued  until  the  following  day, 
resulting  in  the  complete  overthrow  of  the  Lan- 
casterian  party.  More  than  30,000  men  were  slain 
on  this  bloody  field.  Margaret,  with  her  husband 
and  son,  fled  into  Scotland,  and  sailed  from  thence 
to  France,  where  she  sought  an  alliance  with 
Louis  XL  She  succeeded  only  to  a  limited  ex- 
tent, returning  to  Scotland  four  years  later  at  the 
30 


head  of  five  hundred  French  troops.  This  insig- 
nificant force  was  joined  by  a  small  band  of 
Scotch,  and  in  pure  desperation  the  intrepid  queen 
gave  battle  to  the  English  army  under  Lord  Mon- 
tacute,  near  Hexham,  resulting,  as  might  have 
been  anticipated,  in  a  complete  rout  of  her  little 
army.  The  old  king,  her  husband,  made  his  es- 
cape in  one  direction,  and  Margaret  and  her  son 


WAKEFIELD   AND    DEATH   OF   YORK. 

in  another.  The  former  fled  into  Lancashire, 
where  he  remained  concealed  for  more  than  a  year, 
but  was  finally  captured  and  conveyed  to  London  _ 
Here  he  was  subjected  to  the  most  cruel  indigni- 
ties. The  Earl  of  Warwick  ordered  that  his  feet 
should  be  tied  in  his  stirrups,  after  the  manner  of 
a  common  criminal,  and  that  he  should  be 
paraded  around  the  pillory,  where  he  was  greeted 
bv    the    base    insults    and  derisive  shouts  of    a 


466 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


vicious  mob.  He  was  then  conducted  to  the 
Tower,  aud  cast  into  a  dungeon,  from  which,  four 
years  later,  he  was  rescued  and  once  more  pro- 
claimed king  of  England  for  a  brief  term. 

The  unfortunate  Margaret  and  the  young  Prince 
of  Wales  sought  safety  in  a  dense  forest,  where 
they  were  attacked  by  a  robber  ;  but  she  met 
him  with  such  queenly  dignity  and  grace 
that  he  was  completely  subdued,  and  became 
their  staunch  and  faithful  fr'end,  guiding  them  in 


THE   BATTLE   OF  TOWTON. 

safety  to  the  coast,  where  they  embarked  for 
France. 

King  Edward,  feeling  that  he  was  now  firmly 
seated  upon  the  throne,  engaged  in  a  life  of  plea- 
sure, and  also  manifested  great  cruelty  toward  the 
wearers  of  the  red  rose.  Every  Lancasterian  of 
prominence  who  could  be  found  was  executed, 
according  to  the  sanguinary  customs  of  the  times  ; 
the  gaps  thus  made  in  the  English  nobility  being 
filled  as  rapidly  as  the}-  occurred  by  the  substitu- 
tion of  staunch  friends  of  the  king. 

About    this    time    Edward   privately  married 


Elizabeth,  the  widow  of  Sir  John  Grey  and 
daughter  of  Richard  Woodville,  Baron  Rivers, 
whom  he  had  met  at  her  father's  house,  while 
hunting  in  the  forests  of  Grafton.  She  was  soon 
afterwards  proclaimed  queen,  and  her  father  was 
made  an  earl.  This  union  greatly  displeased  the 
haughty  Earl  of  Warwick,  who  had  been  negoti- 
ating for  an  influential  foreign  matrimonial  alli- 
ance with  the  king.  He  was  therefore  deeply 
incensed  because  his  efforts  were  so  little  regarded, 
and  other  influential  members  of 
the  court  joined  him  in  openly  ex- 
pressing their  dissatisfaction  over 
the  elevation  of  a  low-born  woman 
like  Elizabeth  to  the  proud  posi- 
tion of  queen  of  England.  Among 
the  other  malcontents  was  no  less 
a  personage  than  the  Duke  of 
Clarence,  a  brother  of  the  king. 
The  dissatisfaction  blazed  out  into 
open  revolt  in  1469,  and  quickly 
spread  to  all  parts  of  the  island. 
An  armj'  of  60,000  men  was  col- 
lected in  Yorkshire,  under  a  hero 
of  the  troopers,  named  Robin  Re- 
desdale  ;  while  the  Earl  of  War- 
wick, who  had  been  absent  in 
France,  had  won  the  friendship  of 
Louis  XL  and  become  reconciled 
to  his  old  enem}-  Margaret,  landed 
at  Dartmouth  with  a  small  body  of 
troops,  which  in  a  few  days  in- 
creased to  an  army  equal  to  the 
one  in  Yorkshire.  Edward,  wholly 
engrossed  with  his  pleasures  and 
the  punishment  of  his  enemies,  paid 
no  attention  to  the  gathering  storm 
until  it  was  almost  ready  to  burst 
upon  his  devoted  head.  Then 
he  began  his  operations  with  spirit  aud  en- 
ergy, but  it  was  too  late.  As  the  Earl  of  War- 
wick marched  northward,  the  enthusiasm  of  his 
soldiers  and  their  rapidly  increasing  numbers 
shook  the  fidelity  of  the  royal  troops,  and  Edward 
soon  found  himself  without  a  sufficient  arm)-  to 
depend  upon.  Becoming  alarmed  for  his  personal 
safety,  he  fled  to  Holland,  and  Warwick  entered 
London  with  flying  colors  and  amidst  the  plaudits 
of  the  fickle  populace.  Poor  old  King  Henry  was 
brought  forth  from  his  gloomy  cell  in  the  Tower, 
and    once    more    proclaimed    the  royal  head  of 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


467 


England.  A 
new  parliament 
was  summoned, 
which,  obedient 
to  the  c  om- 
ul a  n  d  s  of  its 
masters,  pro- 
nounced E  d  - 
ward  a  usurper, 
attainted  his  ad- 
herents of  trea- 
son, and  d  e  - 
clared  all  acts 
passed  b  y  his 
authority  re- 
pealed. 

But  mean- 
while he  was 
not  idle.  With 
commendable 
spirit  he  col- 
lected within  a 
few  months  a 
bod}-  of  Flemish 
and  Dutch  free 
lances,  with 
whom  he  landed 
at  Ravenspur, 
and  i  m  m  e  d  i  - 
ately  began  his 
march  towards 
the  interior. 
At  first  he  pre- 
tended that  he 
was  only  trying 
to  recover  his 
ancient  patri- 
mony as  Duke 
of  York,  and  by 
his '  instructions 
the  battle-cry  of 
his  f o  1 1  o  w  e  r  s 
was,  "Long 
live  King  Hen 
ry,"  until  hid 
force  had  in- 
creased to  such 
an  extent  that 
he  felt  safe  in 
offering  battle  to 
the  king's  army, 


468 


THE    WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


commanded  by  Warwick.  The  battle  took  place 
at  Barnet,  April  14,  1471,  where  the  Lancas- 
terians  were  beaten  and  Warwick  himself  slain. 
Once  more  Edward  became  master  of  London 
and  the  person  of  the  old  king,  who  was  again 
remanded  to  the  Tower,  where  he  was  murdered 
a  month  later  by  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  better 
known  as  the  infamous  hunchback,  Richard  III. 


w%9m?m. 


BATTLE   OF   TEWKESBURY. 

During  the  progress  of  these  events  the  coura- 
geous Margaret  had  collected  a  small  force  of 
French  troops  and  accompanied  by  her  son,  then 
eighteen  year?  of  age,  lauded  at  their  head,  at 
Weymouth,  on  the  very  day  of  the  disaster  at 
Barnet.  On  receiving  this  startling  information 
she  took  sanctuary  in  Beaulieu  Abbey,  where  she 
was  waited  upon  by  some  of  the  Lancasterian 
leaders,  who,  having  a  strong  force,  prevailed 
upon  her  to  join  them  ;  but  while  seeking  to  effect 


a  junction  with  their  friends  in  Wales,  Edward 
assaulted  them  at  Tewkesbury,  May  4,  147 1, with 
a  largely  superior  force,  and  totally  defeated  them. 
Margaret  and  her  son  fled  to  a  neighboring  fortress, 
where  the}-  were  soon  afterward  attacked  by 
Edward's  entire  army,  and  when  the  commandant 
proposed  a  surrender,  she  with  her  own  hands 
lashed  the  standard  to  the  pole  and  declared  that 
she  would  rather  die  than 
submit.  But  resistance 
against  such  overwhelming 
numbers  was  madness,  and 
they  were  soon  compelled  to 
yield. 

After  so  many  years  of  he- 
roic effort  the  unfortunate 
queen  and  the  young  prince 
were  helpless  captives  in  the 
hands  of  their  enemies. 
When  the  prince  was  brought 
before  King  Edward  the  lat- 
ter asked  him  what  business 
he  had  in  England,  to  which 
he  replied  that  he  had  come 
to  recover  his  father's  king- 
dom ,  whereupon  E  d  w  a  r  d 
struck  him  in  the  face  with 
his  mailed  hand  and  knocked 
him  clown.  At  this,  the 
Dukes  of  Gloucester  and 
Clarence,  who  were  standing 
by,  taking  the  hint  from  the 
king,  drew  their  swords  and 
stabbed  the  youth  to  death 
on  the  spot. 

Queen  Margaret  was  im- 
prisoned in  the  Tower,  and 
was  there  at  the  time  of  the 
murder  of  her  husband.  She 
was  subsequently  removed  to 
Windsor,  and  from  thence  to 
Walllngford,  remaining  a  prisoner  until  No- 
vember 3,  1475,  when  she  was  ransomed  hy 
Louis  XL,  who  paid  50,000  crowns  for  her 
libertv,  her  father  having  ceded  Provence  to 
him  as  security  for  that  purpose.  On  being 
released  she  formally  renounced  all  the  rights 
her  marriage  with  King  Henry  had  given  her, 
and  retired  to  deep  seclusion  at  Reculee,  near 
Angers,  one  of  the  possessions  of  her  father.  On 
the  death  of  the  latter  she  became  a  member  of  the 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


469 


family  of  the  L,ord  of  Dampierre,  and  resided  in 
his  chateau  during1  the  remainder  of  her  life.  She 
is  said  to  have  retained  her  vivacity  and  much  of 
her  remarkable  beauty,  through  all  the  trials  and 
vicissitudes  of  her  eventful  career. 


THOMAS  CHATTERTON,   THE    MAD    POET. 

THOMAS  CHATTERTON  was  born  at  Bris- 
tol, November  20,  1752.  His  father,  who 
had  taught  the  Free  School  there,  died  before  his 
birth,  and  he  was  educated  at  a  charity  school, 
where  nothing  but  English,  writing,  and  accounts 
were  taught.  His  first  lessons  were  said  to  have 
been  from  a  black-letter  Bible,  which  may  have 
had  some  effect  on  his  youthful  imagination.  At 
the  age  of  fourteen  he  was  put  apprentice  to  an 
attorney,  where  his  situation  was  irksome  and 
uncomfortable,  but  left  him  ample  time  to  prose- 
cute his  private  studies.  He  was  passionately 
devoted  to  poetry,  antiquities  and  heraldry,  and 
ambitious  of  distinction.  His  ruling  passion,  he 
says,  was  "unconquerable  pride."  He  now  set 
himself  to  accomplish  his  various  impositions  by 
pretended  discoveries  of  old  manuscripts.  In 
October,  1768,  the  new  bridge  at  Bristol  was  fin- 
ished ;  and  Chatterton  sent  to  a  newspaper  in  the 
town  a  pretended  account  of  the  ceremonies  on 
opening  the  old  bridge,  introduced  by  a  letter  to 
the  printer,  intimating  that  "the  description  of 
the  friars  first  passing  over  the  old  bridge  was 
taken  from  an  ancient  manuscript."  To  one 
man,  fond  of  heraldic  honors,  he  gave  a  pedigree 
reaching  up  to  the  time  of  William  the  Conqueror; 
to  another  he  presents  an  ancient  poem,  the  "  Ro- 
maunt  of  the  Cnyghte,"  written  by  one  of  his  an- 
cestors 450  years  before  ;  to  a  religious  citizen  of 
Bristol  he  gives  an  ancient  fragment  of  a  sermon 
on  the  Divinity  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  as  wroten  by 
Thomas  Rowley,  a  monk  of  the  fifteenth  century  ; 
to  another,  solicitous  of  obtaining  information 
about  Bristol,  he  makes  the  valuable  present  of  an 
account  of  all  the  churches  of  the  city,  as  they 
appeared  three  hundred  years  before,  and  accom- 
panies it  with  drawings  and  descriptions  of  the 
castle,  the  whole  pretended  to  be  drawn  from 
writings  of  the  "  gode  prieste  Thomas  Rowley." 
Horace  Walpole  was  engaged  in  writing  the 
History  of  British  Painters,  and  Chatterton  sent 
him  an  account  of  eminent ' '  Carvellers  and  Peyne- 
ters, ' '  who  once  flourished  in  Bristol.  These,  with 
various  impositions  of  a  similar  nature,  duped  the 


citizens  of  Bristol.  Chatterton  had  no  confidant 
in  his  labors  ;  he  toiled  in  secret,  gratified  only 
by  "  the  stoical  pride  of  talent."  He  frequently 
wrote  by  moonlight,  conceiving  that  the  imme- 
diate presence  of  that  luminary  added  to  the  in- 
spiration. His  Sundays  were  commonly  spent  in 
walking  alone  into  the  country  about  Bristol,  and 
drawing  sketches  of  churches  and  other  objects 
which  had  impressed  his  romantic  imagination. 
He  would  also  lie  down  on  the  meadows  in  view 
of  St.  Mary's  Church,  Bristol,  fix  his  eyes  upon 
the  ancient  edifice,  and  seem  as  if  he  were  in  a 
kind  of  trance.  He  thus  nursed  the  enthusiasm 
which  destroyed  him.  Though  correct  and  orderly 
in  his  conduct,  Chatterton,  before  he  was  sixteen, 
imbibed  principles  of  infidelity,  and  the  idea  of 
suicide  was  familiar  to  his  mind.  It  was,  how- 
ever, overruled  for  a  time  by  his  passion  for 
literary  fame  and  distinction.  It  was  a  favorite 
maxim  with  him,  that  man  is  equal  to  anything, 
and  that  everything  might  be  achieved  by  dili- 
gence and  abstinence.  His  alleged  discoveries 
having  attracted  great  attention,  the  youth  stated 
that  he  found  the  manuscripts  in  his  mother's 
house.  "In  the  muniment  room  of  St.  Mary 
Redcliffe  Church  of  Bristol,  several  chests  had 
been  anciently  deposited,  among  which  was  one 
called  the  '  Coffre '  of  Mr.  Canynge,  an  eminent 
merchant  of  Bristol,  who  had  rebuilt  the  church 
in  the  reign  of  Edward  IV.  About  the  year  1727 
those  chests  had  been  broken  open  by  an  order 
from  proper  authority :  some  ancient  deeds  had 
been  taken  out,  and  the  remaining  manuscripts 
left  exposed  as  of  no  value.  Chatterton' s  father, 
whose  uncle  was  sexton  of  the  church,  had  carried 
off  great  numbers  of  the  parchments,  a:id  had 
used  them  as  covers  for  books  in  his  school. 
Amidst  the  residue  of  his  father's  ravages,  Chat- 
terton gave  out  that  he  had  found  many  writings 
of  Mr.  Canynge,  and  of  Thomas  Rowley  (the 
friend  of  Canynge),  a  priest  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury. ' '  These  fictitious  poems  were  published  in 
the  "Town  and  County  Magazine,"  to  which  Chat- 
terton had  become  a  contributor,  and  occasioned 
a  warm  controversy  among  literary  antiquaries. 
Some  of  them  he  had  submitted  to  Horace  Wal- 
pole, who  showed  them  to  Gray  and  Mason  ;  but 
these  competent  judges  pronounced  them  to  be 
forgeries. 

After  three  years  spent  in  the  attorney's  office, 
Chatterton  obtained  his  release  from   his  appren- 


470 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


ticeship,  and  went  to  London,  where  he  engaged 
in  various  tasks  for  the  booksellers,  and  wrote  for 
the  magazines  and  newspapers.  He  obtained  an 
introduction  to  Beckford,  the  patriotic  and  popular 
lord-mayor,  and  his  own  inclinations  led  him  to 
espouse  the  opposition  part}-.  "  But  no  money," 
he  sa3rs,  "  is  to  be  got  on  that  side  of  the  question  ; 
interest  is  on  the  other  side.  But  he  is  a  poor 
author  who  cannot  write  on  both  sides."  He 
boasted  that  his  company  was  courted  everywhere, 


composition.  His  spirits  had  always  been  un- 
equal, alternately  gloomy  and  elevated — both  in 
extremes ;  he  had  cast  off  the  restraints  of  religion, 
and  had  no  steady  principle  to  guide  him,  unless 
it  was  a  strong  affection  for  his  mother  and  sister, 
to  whom  he  sent  remittances  of  money,  while  his 
means  lasted.  Habits  of  intemperance,  succeeded 
by  fits  of  remorse,  exasperated  his  constitutional 
melancholy  ;  and  after  being  reduced  to  actual 
want  (though  with  characteristic  pride  he  rejected 


NAPOLEON'    AT   THE    BOMBARDMENT    OF   MADRID. 


and  ' '  that  he  would  settle  the  nation  before  he 
had  done. "  The  splendid  visions  of  promotion 
and  consequence,  however,  soon  vanished,  and 
even  his  labours  for  the  periodical  press  failed  to 
afford  him  the  means  of  comfortable  subsistence. 
He  applied  for  the  appointment  of  a  surgeon's 
mate  to  Africa,  but  was  refused  the  necessary  re- 
commendation. This  seems  to  have  been  his  last 
hope,    and  he  made  no  farther  effort  at  literary 


a  dinner  offered  him  by  his  landlady  the  day  be- 
fore his  death),  he  tore  all  his  papers,  and  de- 
stroyed himself  by  taking  arsenic,  August  25, 
1770.  At  the  time  of  his  death  he  was  aged  seven- 
teen years  nine  months  and  a  few  days.  ' '  No 
English  poet,"  says  Campbell,  "ever  equalled 
him  at  the  same  age."  The  remains  of  the  un- 
happy youth  were  interred  in  a  shell  in  the  bury- 
insr-sxound  of  Shoe-Lane  workhouse.      His  un- 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


471 


finished  papers  he  had  destroyed  before  his  death, 
and  his  room,  when  broken  open,  was  found 
covered  with  scraps  of  paper. 


THE  SLEEP  OF  GREAT  MEN. 

nAPOLEON  slept  an  average  of  about  five  or 
six  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four.  His 
physical  constitution  was  such  that  he  could  do 
with  less  sleep  than  almost  any  other  celebrated 
person  of  whom  history  furnishes  any  record. 
When  actively  engaged  in  his  campaigns  he  fre- 
quently did  not  sleep  more  than  two  or  three 
hours  at  a  time  ;  and  Victor  Hugo  asserts  that 
the  night  before  the  battle  of  Waterloo  he  did 
not  lie  down  or  close  his  eyes.  It  is  also  stated 
that  his  anxiety  during  the  siege  of  Madrid,  in 
December,  1808,  added  to  his  irritation  over  the 
bad  generalship  of  the  French  commanders  dur- 
ing the  previous  Spanish  campaigns,  rendered  him 
more  sleepless  than  usual,  and  that  he  frequently 
did  not  rest  more  than  two  or  three  hours  during 
the  twenty-four. 

Washington  was  a  regular  and  sound  sleeper. 
When  at  home  at  Mount  Vernon  he  usually  retired 
between  nine  and  ten  o'clock,  and  arose  the  next 
morning  about  five.  During  his  military  cam- 
paigns his  anxiety  frequently  kept  him  awake, 
and  made  him  restless  and  irritable.  He  had  not 
slept  for  two  days  previous  to  the  disastrous  battle 
of  I/)ng  Island,  and  his  bad  generalship  and 
consequent  defeat  on  that  occasion  have  been 
attributed  by  some  writers  to  this  fact. 

Caesar,  like  Napoleon,  was  a  light  sleeper.  As 
a  rule  he  averaged -five  to  six  hours  out  of  the 
twenty-four,  and  during  his  active  campaigns 
much  less. 

Authors,  teachers,  and  other  mental  workers 
require  more  sleep  than  those  who  labor  physi- 
cally. Dickens  slept  an  average  of  about  seven 
hours,  but  if  he  overslept  himself  he  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  express  his  thoughts  in  his  usual  happy 
and  fluent  style.  In  working  up  the  climaxes  of 
his  stories  he  frequently  became  excessively  nerv- 
ous, and  sleep  fled  entirety  away  from  him.  He 
states  himself  that  after  he  had  finished  the 
description  of  the  death  of  little  Paul  Dombey,  he 
was  in  such  an  excited  mental  condition  that  he 
spent  the  whole  night  nervously  walking  the 
streets  of  Paris,  where  he  was  at  that  time  so- 
journing. 

Sir  Walter  Scott  has  stated  that  he  required  seven 


hours  of  total  unconsciousness  to  fit  him  for  the 
duties  of  the  day.  He  was  one  of  the  most  vol- 
uminous writers  of  an)'  age,  and  his  composition 
has  a  more  even  and  regular  flow  than  that  of 
almost  any  other  celebrated  author.  Most  of  his 
later  books  were  dictated  to  amanuenses,  as  he 
found  the  excessive  labor  of  constant  writing  more 
than  he  could  endure.  The  larger  number  of  his 
books,  as  well  as  his  greatest  works,  were  pro- 
duced after  he  was  fifty  years  of  age,  and  the 
' '  Tales  of  a  Grandfather ' '  and  others  of  his  most 
popular  writings  were  composed  after  he  had 
reached  his  sixtieth  year.  At  the  age  of  fifty-five 
the  failure  of  his  publishers  left  him  with  an  enor- 
mous personal  debt  of  over  $750,000.  He  im- 
mediately set  to  work  to  pay  this  off,  and  six 
years  later,  when  his  failing  powers  compelled 
him  to  cease  writing,  he  had  disposed  of  over 
$500,000  of  it.  The  remainder  was  discharged  in 
full,  so  that  his  creditors  did  not  lose  a  shilling. 
In  those  days  it  was  quite  an  unusual  thing  for 
an  author  to  be  largely  remunerated  for  his  work  ; 
indeed,  many  of  them  received  only  a  miserable 
pittance  as  a  reward  of  their  labors.  In  later  times 
large  fortunes  have  been  amassed  by  authors. 

Sir  Edward  Coke,  the  famous  English  jurist, 
claimed  that  he  required  only  six  hours'  sleep, 
and  he  expressed  his  rules  for  the  division  of  his 
ti  me  in  the  following  couplet  : 

"Six  Hours  in  sleep,  in  law's  grave  study  six, 
Four  spend  in  prayer — the  rest  on  nature  fix." 

Sir  William  Jones,  another  celebrated  English- 
man, amended  these  rules  as  follows  : 

".Seven  hours  to  law,  to  soothing  slumber  seven, 
Ten  to  the  world  allot,  and  all  to  Heaven." 

Sir  William  Jones'  rules  are  free  from  that  in- 
nate suspicion  of  insincerity  which  clusters  around 
those  of  Sir  Edward  Coke.  A  lawyer  who  claims 
to  spend  four  hours  a  day  in  prayer  will  bear 
watching.  

THE  TRANSMIGRATION   OF  SOULS. 

DEAR  Tom,  this  brown  iug  that  now  foams  with  mild 
ale 
(In  which  I  will  drink  to  sweet  Nan  of  the  vale); 
Was  once  Toby  Fillpot,  a  thirsty  old  soul, 
As  e'er  drank  a  bottle,  or  fathomed  a  bowl ; 
In  brousing  about  'twas  his  praise  to  excel, 
And  among  jolly  topers  he  bore  off  the  bell. 

It  chanced  as  in  dog-days  he  sat  at  his  ease, 
In  his  flower- woven  arbor,  as  gay  as  you  please, 
With  a  friend  and  a  pipe  puffing  sorrows  away, 
And  with  honest  old  stingo  was  soaking  his  clay, 


472 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE    CURIOUS,  AND    THE 


His  breath-doors  of  life  on  a  sudden  were  shut, 
And  he  died  full  as  big  as  a  Dorchester  butt. 

His  body  when  long  in  the  ground  it  had  lain, 

And  Jime  into  clay  had  resolved  it  again, 

A  potter  found  out  in  its  covert  so  snug, 

And  with  part  of  fat  Toby  he  formed  this  brown  jug  ; 

Now  sacred  to  friendship,  and  mirth,  and  mild  ale, 

So  here's  to  mv  lovely  sweet  Nan  of  the  vale  ! 


ON  parent  knees,  a  naked  new-born  child, 
Weeping  thou  satst  while  all  around  thee  smiled  ; 
So  live,  that  sinking  in  thy  last  long  sleep, 
Calm  thou  mayst  smile,  while  all  around  thee  weep. 

— From  the  Persian. 


THE  STORY  OF  LA  ROCHE.— A  PERSONAL  PIC- 
TURE OF  DAVID   HUME. 
BY    HENRY    MCKENZIE. 

THE  character  of  La  Roche,  in  this  exquisite 
story,  is  intended  for  Hume,  the  historian  ; 
and  it  is  said  to  be  a  perfect  picture  of  this  amiable 
author.  We  copy  the  story,  both  on  account 
of  its  great  interest  and  its  historical  value  : 

More  than  forty  years  ago,  an  English  philoso- 
pher, whose  works  have  since  been  read  and 
,  admired  by  all  Europe,  resided  at  a  little  town  in 
France.  Some  disappointments  in  his  native 
country  had  first  driven  him  abroad,  and  he  was 
afterwards  induced  to  remain  there,  from  having 
found,  in  this  retreat,  where  the  connections  even 
of  nation  and  language  were  avoided,  a  perfect 
seclusion  and  retirement  highly  favorable  to  the 
■development  of  abstract  subjects,  in  which  he  ex- 
celled all  the  writers  of  his  time. 

Perhaps  in  the  structure  of  such  a  mind  as,  Mr 

's,    the  finer  and  more   delicate  sensibilities 

are  seldom  known  to  have  place  ;  or  if  originally 
implanted  there,  are  in  a  great  measure  extin- 
guished by  the  exertions  of  intense  study  and  pro- 
found investigation.  Hence  the  idea  of  philoso- 
phy and  uufeelinguess  being  united  has  become 
proverbial,  and  in  common  language  the  former 
word  is  often  used  to  express  the  latter.  Our  phil- 
osopher has  been  censured  by  some  as  deficient  in 
warmth  and  feeling ;  but  the  mildness  of  his 
manners  has  been  allowed  by  all  ;  and  it  is  cer- 
tain that,  if  he  was  not  easily  melted  into  com- 
passion, it  was  at  least  not  difficult  to  awaken  his 
benevolence. 

One  morning,  while  he  sat  busied  in  those  specu- 
lations which  afterwards  astonished  the  world, 
an  old   female    domestic,    who  served   him   for  a 


housekeeper,  brought  him  word  that  an  elderly 
gentleman  and  his  daughter  had  arrived  in  the 
village  the  preceding  evening  on  their  way  to 
some  distant  country,  and  that  the  father  had  been 
suddenly  seized  in  the  night  with  a  dangerous  dis- 
order, which  the  people  of  the  inn  where  they 
lodged  feared  would  prove  mortal ;  that  she  had 
been  sent  for  as  having  some  knowledge  in  medi- 
cine, the  village  surgeon  being  then  absent ;  and 
that  it  was  truly  piteous  to  see  the  good  old  man, 
who  seemed  not  so  much  afflicted  by  his  own  dis- 
tress as  by  that  which  it  caused  to  his  daughter 
Her  master  laid  aside  the  volume  in  his  hand,  and 
broke  off  the  chain  of  ideas  it  had  inspired.  His 
night-gown  was  exchanged  for  a  coat,  and  he  fol- 
lowed his  gouvernante  to  the  sick  man's  apart- 
ment. 

'Twas  the  best  in  the  little  inn  where  they  lay, 

but  a  paltry  one  notwithstanding.     Mr was 

obliged  to  stoop  as  he  entered  it.  It  was  floored 
with  earth,  and  above  were  the  joists,  not  plas- 
tered, and  hung  with  cobwebs.  On  a  flock-bed,  at 
one  end,  lay  the  old  man  he  came  to  visit ;  at  the 
foot  of  it  sat  his  daughter.  She  was  dressed  in  a 
clean  white  bed-gown  ;  her  dark  locks  hung  loosely 
over  it  as  she  bent  forward,  watching  the  languid 

looks  of  her  father.     Mr and  his  housekeeper 

had  stood  some  moments  in  the  room  without  the 
young  lady's  being  sensible  of  their  entering  it. 
"  Mademoiselle  !  "  said  the  old  woman  at  last,  in 
a  soft  tone.  She  turned,  and  showed  one  of  the 
finest  faces  in  the  world.  It  was  touched,  not 
spoiled  with  sorrow  ;  and  when  she  perceived  a 
stranger,  whom  the  old  woman  now  introduced  to 
her,  a  blush  at  first,  and  then  the  gentle  cere- 
monial of  native  politeness  which  the  affliction  of 
the  time  tempered,  but  did  not  extinguish,  crossed 
it  for  a  moment,  and  changed  its  expression. 
'Twas  sweetness  all,  however,  and  our  philosopher 
felt  it  strongly.  It  was  not  a  time  for  words  ;  he 
offered  his  services  in  a  few  sincere  ones.  "  Mon- 
sieur lies  miserably  ill  here,"  said  the  gouver- 
nante ;  "if  he  could  possibly  be  moved  any- 
where." "  If  he  could  be  moved  to  our  house," 
said  her  master.  He  had  a  spare  bed  for  a  friend, 
and  there  was  a  garret  room  unoccupied,  next  to 
the  gouvernante's.  It  was  contrived  accordingly. 
The  scruples  of  the  stranger,  who  could  look 
scruples  though  he  could  not  speak  them,  were 
overcome,  and  the  bashful  reluctance  of  his 
daughter  gave  way  to  her  belief  of  its  use  to  her 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


473 


father.  The  sick  man  was  wrapt  in  blankets  and 
carried  across  the  street  to  the  English  gentle- 
man's. The  old  woman  helped  his  daughter  to 
nurse  him  there.  The  surgeon,  who  arrived  soon 
after,  prescribed  a  little,  and  nature  did  much  for 
him  ;  in  a  week  he  was  able  to  thank  his  bene- 
factor. 

By  this  time  his  host  had  learned  the  name  and 
character  of  his  guest.  He  was  a  Protestant 
clergyman  of  Switzerland,  called  L,a  Roche,  a 
widower,  who  had  lately  buried  his  wife  after  a 
long  and  lingering  illness,  for  which  travelling 
had  been  prescribed,  and  he  was  now  returning 
home,  after  an  ineffectual  and  melancholy  journey, 
with  his  only  child,  the  daughter  we  have  men- 
tioned. 

He  was  a  devout  man,  as  became  his  profession. 
He  possessed  devotion  in  all  its  warmth,  but  with 
none  of  its  asperity  ;  I  mean  that  asperity  which 
men,  called  devout, « sometimes  indulge  in.     Mr. 

,  though  he  felt  no  devotion,  never  quarrelled 

with  it  in  others.  His  gouvernante  joined  the  old 
man  and  his  daughter  in  the  prayers  and  thanks- 
givings which  they  put  up  on  his  recovery  ;  for 
she,  too,  was  a  heretic  in  the  phrase  of  the  village. 
The  philosopher  walked  out,  with  his  long  staff 
"and  his  dog,  and  left  them  to  their  prayers  and 
thanksgivings.  "My  master,"  said  the  old 
woman,  "  alas  !  he  is  not  a  Christian  ! '  but  he 
is  the  best  of  unbelievers."  "  Not  a  Christian  ! " 
exclaimed  Mademoiselle  La  Roche ;  ' '  yet  he 
saved  my  father !  Heaven  bless  him  for't ;  I 
would  he  were  a  Christian  !  "  "  There  is  a  pride 
in  human  knowledge,  my  child,"  said  her  father, 
"which  often  blinds  men  to  the  sublime  truths 
of  revelation  ;  hence  opposers  of  Christianity  are. 
found  among  men  of  virtuous  lives,  as  well  as 
among  those  of  dissipated  and  licentious  charac- 
ters. Nay,  sometimes  I  have  known  the  latter 
more  easily  converted  to  the  true  faith  than  the 
former,  because  the  fume  of  passion  is  more  easily 
dissipated  than  the  mist  of  false  theory  and  delu- 
sive  speculation."      "  But  Mr.    ,"    said   his 

daughter;  "alas!  my  father,  he  shall  be  a 
Christian  before  he  dies."  She  was  interrupted 
by  the  arrival  of  their  landlord.  He  took  her 
hand  with  an  air  of  kindness  ;  she  drew  it  away 
from  him  silence,  threw  down  her  eyes  to  the 
ground,  and  left  the  room.  "  I  have  been  thank- 
ing God,"  said  the  good  La  Roche,  "for  my  re- 
covery."    "That  is  right,"  replied  his  landlord. 


"  I  would  not  wish,"  continued  the  old  man  hesi- 
tatingly, ' '  to  think  otherwise  ;  did  I  not  look  up 
with  gratitude  to  that  Being,  I  should  barely  be 
satisfied  with  my  recovery  as  a  continuation  of 
life,  which,  it  may  be,  is  not  a  real  good.  Alas  ! 
I  may  live  to  wish  I  had  died,  that  you  had  left 
me  to  die,  sir,  instead  of  kindly  relieving  me  (he 

clasped  Mr.  's  hand);    but  when   I  look  on 

this  renovated  be- 
ing as  the  gift  of 
the  Almighty,  I 
feel  a  far  different 
sentiment;  my 
heart  dilates  with 
gratitude  and  love 
to  him ;  it  is  pre- 
pared for  doing  his 


the  clergyman's  daughter. 

will,  not  as  a  duty,  but  as  a  pleasure;  and  re- 
gards every  breach  of  it,  not  with  disappro- 
bation, but  with  horror.'  "You  say  right,  my 
dear  sir,"  replied  the  philosopher  ;  "but  you  are 
not  yet  re-established  enough  to  talk  much  ;  you 
must  take  care  of  your  health,  and  neither  study 
nor  preach  for  some  time.  I  have  been  thinking 
over  a  scheme  that  struck  me  to-day  when  you 
mentioned  your  intended  departure.  I  never  was 
in  Switzerland ;  I  have  a  great  mind  to   accom- 


474    THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


pany  your  daughter  and  you  into  that  country. 
I  will  help  to  take  care  of  you  by  the  road  ,  for,  as 
I  was  your  first' physician,  I  hold  myself  responsi- 
ble for  your  cure."  La  Roche's  eyes  glistened  at 
the  proposal ;  his  daughter  was  called  in  and  told 
of  it.  She  was  equally  pleased  with  her  father ; 
for  they  really  loved  their  landlord — not  perhaps 
the  less  for  his  infidelity  ;  at  least  that  circum- 
stance mixed  a  sort  of  pity  with  their  regard  for 
him  ;  their  souls  were  net  of  a  mould  for  harsher 
feelings  ;  hatred  never  dwelt  in  them. 

They  travelled  by  short  stages ;  for  the  philoso- 
pher was  as  good  as  his  word,  in  taking  care  that 
the  old  man  should  not  be  fatigued.  The  party 
had  time  to  be  well  acquainted  with  one  another, 
and  their  friendship  was  increased  by  acquaint- 
ance. La  Roche  found  a  degree  of  simplicity  and 
gentleness  in  his  companion  which  is  not  always 
annexed  to  the  character  of  a  learned  or  a  wise  man. 
His  daughter,  who  was  prepared  to  be  afraid  of 
him,  was  equally  undeceived.  She  found  in  him 
nothing  of  that  self-importance  which  superior 
parts,  or  great  cultivation  of  them,  is  apt  to  con- 
fer. He  talked  of  everything  but  philosphy  and 
religion  ;  he  seemed  to  enjoy  every  pleasure  and 
amusement  of  ordinary  life,  and  to  be  interested 
in  the  most  common  topics  of  discourse  ;  when  his 
knowledge  or  learning  at  any  time  appeared,  it 
was  delivered  with  the  utmost  plainness,  and  with- 
out the  least  shadow  of  dogmatism.  On  his  part 
he  was  charmed  with  the  society  of  the  good 
clergyman  and  his  lovely  daughter.  He  found  in 
them  the  guileless  manner  of  the  earliest  times, 
the  culture  and  accomplishment  of  the  most  re- 
fined ones.  Ever}-  better  feeling  warm  and  vivid  ; 
ever}'  ungentle  one  repressed  or  overcome.  He 
was  not  addicted  to  love  ;  but  he  felt  himself 
happy  in  being  the  friend  of  Mademoiselle  La 
Roche,  and  sometimes  envied  her  father  the  pos- 
session of  such  a  child. 

After  a  journey  of  eleven  days,  they  arrived  at 
the  dwelling  of  La  Roche.  It  was  situated  in  one 
of  those  valleys  of  the  canton  of  Berne,  where 
nature  seems  to  repose,  as  it  were,  in  quiet,  and 
has  enclosed  her  retreat  with  mountains  inaccessi- 
ble. A  stream,  that  spent  its  fury  in  the  hills  above, 
ran  in  front  of  the  house,  and  a  broken  waterfall 
was  seen  through  the  wood  that  covered  its  sides  ; 
below,  it  circled  round  a  tufted  plain,  and  formed 
a  little  lake  in  front  of  a  village,  at  the  end  of 
which  appeared  the  spire  of  La  Roche's  church, 


rising  above  a  clump  of  beeches.  Mr.  en- 
joyed the  beauty  of  the  scene;  but  to  his  compan- 
ions it  recalled  the  memory  of  a  wife  and  parent 
they  had  lost.  The  old  man's  sorrow  was  silent 
—  his  daughter  sobbed  and  wept.  Her  father 
took  her  hand,  kissed  it  twice,  pressed  it  to  his 
bosom,  threw  up  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and  having 
wiped  off  a  tear  that  was  just  about  to  drop  from 
each,  began  to  point  out  to  his  guest  some  of  the' 
most  striking  objects  which  the  prospect  afforded. 
The  philosopher  interpreted  all  this ;  and  he 
could  but  slightly  censure  the  creed  from  which  it 
arose. 

They  had  not  been  long  arrived,  when  a  num- 
ber of  La  Roche  parishioners,  who  had  heard  of 
his  return,  came  to  the  house  to  see  and  welcome 
him.  The  honest  folks  were  awkward  but  sincere 
in  their  professions  of  regard.  They  made  some 
attempts  at  condolence  ;  it  was  too  delicate  for  theit 
handling,  but  La  Roche  to*k  it  in  good  part. 
"  It  has  pleased  God,"  said  he  ;  and  the}-  saw  he 
had  settled  the  matter  with  himself.  Philosophy 
could  not  have  done  so  much  with  a  thousand 
words. 

It  was  now  evening,  and  the  good  peasants 
were  about  to  depart,  when  a  clock  was  heard  t<  > 
strike  seven,  and  the  hour  was  followed  by  a  par- 
ticular chime.  The  country  folks  who  had  come 
to  welcome  their  pastor,  turned  their  looks  toward 
him  at  the  sound  ;  he  explained  their  meaning  to 
his  guest.  "  That  is  a  signal,"  said  he,  "  for  our 
evening  exercise  ;  this  is  one  of  the  nights  of  the 
week  in  which  some  of  my  parishioners  are  wont 
to  join  in  it ;  a  little  rustic  saloon  serves  for  the 
chapel  of  our  family,  and  such  of  the  good  people 
as  are  with  us.  If  you  choose  rather  to  walk  out, 
I  will  furnish  you  with  an  attendant ;  or  here  are 
a  few  old  books  that  may  afford  you  some  enter- 
tainment within."  "By  no  means,"  answered 
the  philosopher,  "I  will  attend  Mademoiselle  at 
her  devotions."  "She-  is  our  organist,"  said  La 
Roche  ;  "  our  neighborhood  is  the  country  of  mu- 
sical mechanism,  and  I  have  a  small  organ  fitted 
up  for  the  purpose  of  assisting  our  singing." 
' 'Tis  an  additional  inducement,"  replied  the 
other,  and  they  walked  into  the  room  together. 
At  the  end  stood  the  organ  mentioned  by  La 
Roche  ;  before  it  was  a  curtain,  which  his  daugh- 
ter drew  aside,  and  placing  herself  on  a  seat 
within,  and  drawing  the  curtain  close,  so  as  to 
save  her  the  awkwardness  of  an  exhibition.  bes:an 


v 


m 


BBwBBSr----""    ~-  rJlft 


IM^M?-.  *- 


(475) 


476 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


a  voluntary,  solemn  and  beautiful  in  the  highest 

decree.     Mr. was  no  musician,  but  he  was  not 

altogether  insensible  to  music  ;  this  fastened  on  his 
mind  more  strongly,  from  its  beauty  being  unex- 
pected. The  solemn  prelude  introduced  a  hymn, 
in  which  such  of  the  audience  as  could  sing  im- 
mediately joined  ;  the  words  were  mostly  taken 
from  holy  writ ;  it  spoke  the  praises  of  God,  and 
his  care  of  good  men.  Something  was  said  of 
the  death  of  the  just,  of  such  as  die  in  the  Lord. 
The  organ  was  touched  with  a  hand  less  firm  ;  it 
paused,  it  ceased,  and  the  sobbing  of  Made- 
moiselle La  Roche  was  heard  instead.  Her  father 
gave  a  sign  for  stopping  the  psalmody,  and  rose 
to  pray.  He  was  discomposed  at  first,  and  his 
voice  faltered  as  he  spoke  ;  but  his  heart  was  in 
his  words,  and  his  warmth  overcame  his  embar- 
rassment. He  addressed  a  Being  whom  he  loved, 
and  he  spoke  for  those  he  loved.  His  parishioners 
catched  the  ardour  of  the  good  old  man  ;  even 
the  philosopher  felt  himself  moved,  and  forgot 
a  moment  to  think  why  he  should  not.  La  Roche' s 
religion  was  that  of  sentiment,  not  theory,  and 
his  guest  was  averse  from  disputation  ;  their  dis- 
course, therefore,  did  not  lead  to  questions  con- 
cerning the  belief  of  either  ;  yet  would  the  old  man 
sometimes  speak  of  his,  from  the  fulness  of  a  heart 
impressed  with  its  force,  and  wishing  to  spread  the 
pleasure  he  enjoyed  in  it.  The  ideas  of  his  God 
and  his  Saviour  were  so  congenial  to  his  mind  that 
even.-  emotion  of  it  naturally  awaked  them.  A 
philosopher  might  have  called  him  an  enthusiast ; 
but  if  he  possessed  the  fervour  of  enthusiasts,  he 
was  guiltless  of  their  bigotry.  "Our  Father 
which  art  in  heaven!"  might  the  good  man  say, 
for  he  felt  it,  and  all  mankind  were  his  brethren. 

"  You  regret,  my  friend,"  said  he  to  Mr.  , 

"  when  my  daughter  and  I  talk  of  the  exquisite 
pleasure  derived  from  music,  you  regret  your  want 
of  musical  powers  and  musical  feelings ;  it  is  a 
department  of  soul,  you  say,  which  nature  has 
almost  denied  you,  which  from  the  effects  you  see 
it  have  on  others  you  are  sure  must  be  highly  de- 
lightful. Why  should  not  the  same  thing  be 
said  of  religion  ?  Trust  me,  I  feel  it  in  the  same 
way — an  energy,  an  inspiration,  which  I  would 
not  lose  for  all  the  blessings  of  sense,  or  enjoy- 
ments of  the  world  ;  yet,  so  far  from  lessening  my 
relish  of  the  pleasures  of  life,  methinks  I  feel  it 
heighten  them  all.  The  thought  of  receiving  it 
from    God    adds    the    blessing  of    sentiment    to 


that  of  sensation   in   every  good  thing  I  possess ;   I 
and   when  calamities  overtake  me — and   I  have   4 
had  my  share — it  confers  a  dignity  on  my  afflic- 
tion, so  lifts  me  above  the  world.      Man,  I  know,    I 
is   but  a  worm,  yet  methinks  I  am  then  allied  to 
God!"     It   would    have    been   inhuman    in   oui 
philosopher  to  have  clouded,  even  with  a  doubt, 
the  sunshine  of  this  belief.   . 

His  discourse,  indeed,  was  very  remote  from 
metaphysical  disquisition,  or  religious  contro- 
versy. Of  all  men  I  ever  knew,  his  ordinary  con- 
versation was  the  least  tinctured  with  pedantry, 
or  liable  to  dissertation.  With  La  Roche  and  his 
daughter  it  was  perfectly  familiar.  The  country 
around  them,  the  maimers  of  the  village,  the  com- 
parison of  both  with  those  of  England,  remarks 
on  the  works  of  favorite  authors,  on  the  senti- 
ments the}-  conveyed,  and  the  passions  they  ex- 
cited, with  manjr  other  topics  in  which  there  was 
an  equality  or  alternate  advantage  among  the 
speakers,  were  the  subjects  they  talked  on.  Their 
hours  too  of  riding  and  walking  were  many,  in 
which  Mr.  ,  as  a  stranger,  was  shown  the  re- 
markable scenes  and  curiosities  of  the  country. 
They  would  sometimes  make  little  expeditions  to 
contemplate,  in  different  attitudes,  those  astonish- 
ing mountains,  the  cliffs  of  which,  covered  with 
eternal  snows,  and  sometimes  shooting  into  fan- 
tastic shapes,  form  the  termination  of  most  of  the 
Swiss  prospects.  Our  philosopher  asked  many 
questions  as  to  their  natural  history  and  produc- 
tions. La  Roche  observed  the  sublimity  of  the 
ideas  which  the  view  of  their  stupendous  sum- 
mits, inaccessible  to  mortal  foot,  and  visited  by  no 
living  thing  except  the  wild  chamois,  was  calcu- 
lated to  inspire,  which  naturally,  said  he,  leads 
the  mind  to  that  Being  by  whom  their  foundations 
were  laid.  ' '  They  are  not  seen  in  Flanders, ' ' 
said  Mademoiselle  with  a  sigh.      "That's  an  odd 

remark,"  said  Mr.  ,  smiling.       She  blushed, 

and  he  inquired  no  farther. 

'Twas  with  regret  he  left  a  society  in  which  he 
found  himself  so  happy  ;  but  he  settled  with  La 
Roche  and  his  daughter  a  plan  of  correspondence : 
and  they  took  his  promise,  that  if  ever  he  came 
within  fifty  leagues  of  their  dwelling,  he  should 
travel  those  fifty  leagues  to  visit  them. 

About  three  years  after,  our  philosopher  was  on 
a  visit  at  Geneva  ;  the  promise  be  made  to  La 
Roche  and  his  daughter  on  his  former  visit  was 
recalled  to  his  mind  by  a  view  of  that  range  of 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


477 


■mountains,  on  a  part  of  which  they  had  often 
looked  together.  There  was  a  reproach,  too,  con- 
veyed along  with  the  recollection,  for  his  having 
failed  to  write  to  either  for  several  months  past. 
The  truth  was,  that  indolence  was  the  habit  most 
natural  to  him,  from  which  he  was  not  easily 
roused  by  the 
claims  of  corre- 
spondence either 
of  his  friends  or 
of  his  enemies  ; 
when  the  latter 
drew  their  pens  in 
controversy,  they 
were  often  unan- 
swered as  well  as 
the  former.  While 
he  was  hesitating 
about  a  visit  to 
La  Roche,  which 
he  wished  to 
make,  but  found 
the  effort  rather 
too  much  for  him, 
he  received  a  let- 
ter from  the  old 
man,  which  had 
been  forwarded  to 
him  from  Paris, 
where  he  had  then 
his  fixed  residence. 
It  contained  a 
gentle  complaint 

of  Mr 's  want 

of  punctuality,  but 
an  assurance  of 
continued  grati- 
tude for  his  for- 
mer good  offices ; 
and  as  a  friend 
whom  the  writer 
considered  inter- 
ested in  his  family, 
it  informed  him  of 

the  approaching  nuptials  of  Mademoiselle  La 
Roche  with  a  young  man,  a  relation  of  her 
own,  and  formerly  a  pupil  of  her  father's,  of 
the  most  amiable  disposition,  and  respectable 
character.  Attached  from  their  earliest  years, 
the}'  had  been  separated  by  his  joining  one 
of   the  subsidiary  regiments  of  the  canton,  then 


in  the  service  of  a  foreign  power.  In  this  situ- 
ation he  had  distinguished  himself  as  much 
for  courage  and  military  skill  as  for  the  other 
endowments  which  he  had  cultivated  at  home. 
The  term  of  his  service  was  now  expired, 
and  they  expected  him  to  return  in  a  few  weeks, 


HOME  OF  THE  CHAMOIS  HUNTER. 

when  the  old  man  hoped,  as  he  expressed  it  irt 
his  letter,  to  join  their  hands,  and  see  them  happy 
before  he  died. 

Our  philosopher  felt  himself  interested  in  this 
event ;  but  he  was  not,  perhaps,  altogether  so- 
happy  in  the  tidings  of  Mademoiselle  La  Roche's 
marriage  as  her  father  supposed  him.     Not  that 


478 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


he  was  ever  a  lover  of  the  lady's  :  but  he  thought 
her  one  of  the  most  amiable  women  he  had  seen, 
and  there  was  something  in  the  idea  of  her  being 
another's  forever,  that  struck  him,  he  knew  not 
why,  like  a  disappointment.  After  some  little 
speculation  on  the  matter,  however,  he  could  look 
i>n  it  as  a  thing  fitting,  if  not  quite  agreeable, 
and  determined  on  this  visit  to  see  his  old  friend 
and  his  daughter  happy. 

On  the  last  day  of  his  journey,  different  acci- 
dents had  retarded  his  progress  :  he  was  benighted 
before  he  reached  the  quarter  in  which  La  Roche 


dress  of  an  attendant  on  a  funeral,  and  accompa- 
nied by  several  others,  who,  like  him,  seemed  to 
have  been  employed    in    the    rites  of  sepulture. 

On   Mr.    's  making  inquiry  who  was  the 

person  they  had  been  burying,  one  of  them,  with 
an  accent  more  mournful  than  is  common  to  their 
profession,  answered,  "Then  you  knew  not 
Mademoiselle,  sir?  you  never  beheld  a  lovelier." 
"La  Roche!"  exclaimed  he,  in  reply.  "Alas! 
it  was  she  indeed  !"  The  appearance  of  surprise 
and  grief  which  his  countenance  assumed  at- 
tracted the  notice  of  the  peasant  with  whom  he 


SHE    DIED   OF   A   BROKEN    HEART. 


resided.  His  guide,  however,  was  well  acquainted 
with  the  road,  and  he  found  himself  at  last  in 
view  of  the  lake,  which  I  have  before  described, 
in  the  neighborhood  of  La  Roche's  dwelling. 
A  light  gleamed  on  the  water,  that  seemed  to 
proceed  from  the  house ;  it  moved  slowly  along 
as  he  proceeded  up  the  side  of  the  lake,  and  at 
last  he  saw  it  glimmer  through  the  trees,  and  stop 
at  some  distance  from  the  place  where  he  then  was. 
He  supposed  it  some  piece  of  bridal  merriment, 
and  pushed  on  his  horse  that  he  might  be  a  spec- 
tator of  the  scene ;  but  he  was  a  good  deal 
shocked,  on  approaching  the  spot,  to  find  it  pro- 
ceed from  the  torch  of  a  person  clothed   in   the 


talked.     He  came  up  closer  to  Mr. 


■ ;   "I  per- 


ceive, sir,  j-ou  were  acquainted  with  Mademoiselle 
La  Roche."  "Acquainted  with  her  !  Good  God  ! 
when — how — where  did  she  die  ?  Where  is  her 
father?"  "She  died,  sir,  of  heart-break,  I  be- 
lieve ;  the  young  gentleman  to  whom  she  was 
soon  to  have  been  married,  was  killed  in  a  duel 
by  a  French  officer,  his  intimate  companion,  and 
to  whom,  before  their  quarrel,  he  had  often  dons 
the  greatest  favors.  Her  worthy  father  bears 
her  death  as  he  has  often  told  us  a  Christian 
should ;  he  is  even  so  composed  as  to  be  now  ir. 
his  pulpit,  ready  to  deliver  a  few  exhortations  tc 
his  parishioners,  as  is  the  custom  with  us  on  such 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


479 


occasions :  follow  me,  sir,  and  you  shall  hear 
him."     He  followed  the  man  without  answering. 

The  church  was  dimly  lighted,  except  near  the 
pulpit,  where  the  venerable  La  Roche  was  seated. 
His  people  were  now  lifting  up  their  voices  in  a 
psalm  to  that  Being  whom  their  pastor  had  taught 
them  ever  to  bless  and  to  revere.  La  Roche  sat, 
his  figure  bending  gently  forward,  his  eyes  half- 
closed,  lifted  up  in  silent  devotion.  A  lamp 
placed  near  him  threw  its  light  strong  on  his 
head,  and  marked  the  shadow}'  lines  of  age 
across  the  paleness  of  his  brow,  thinly  covered 
with  gray  hairs.  The  music  ceased :  La  Roche 
sat  for  a  moment,  and  nature  wrung  a  few  tears 
from  him.     His  people  were  loud  in  their  grief. 

Mr.  was  not  less  affected  than  they.      La 

Roche  arose:  "Father  of  mercies,"  said  he, 
"  forgive  these  tears  ;  assist  thy  servant  to  lift  up 
his  soul  to  thee ;  to  lift  to  thee  the  souls  of  thy 
people.  My  friends,  it  is  good  so  to  do,  at  all 
seasons  it  is  good  ;  but  in  the  days  of  our  distress, 
what  a  privilege  it  is  !  Well  saith  the  sacred 
book,  '  Trust  in  the  Lord ;  at  all  times  trust  in 
the  Lord.'  When  every  other  support  fails  us, 
when  the  fountains  of  worldly  comfort  are  dried 
up,  let  us  then  seek  those  living  waters  which  flow 
from  the  throne  of  God.  'Tis  only  from  the  be- 
lief of  the  goodness  and  wisdom  of  a  Supreme 
Being  that  our  calamities  can  be  borne  in  that 
manner  which  becomes  a  man.  Human  wisdom 
is  here  of  little  use  ;  for,  in  proportion  as  it  be- 
stows comfort,  it  represses  feeling,  without  which 
we  may  cease  to  be  hurt  by  calamity,  but  we  shall 
also  cease  to  enjoy  happiness.  I  will  not  bid  you 
be  insensible,  my  friends — I  cannot,  I  cannot,  if 
I  would  (his  tears  flowed  afresh) — I  feel  too  much 
myself,  and  I  am  not  ashamed  of  my  feelings ; 
but  therefore  may  I  the  more  willingly  be  heard  ; 
therefore  have  I  prayed  God  to  give  me  strength 
to  speak  to  you,  to  direct  you  to  him,  not  with 
empty  words,  but  with  these  tears;  not  from 
speculation,  but  from  experience  ;  that  while  you 
see  me  suffer,  you  may  know  also  my  consolation. 

"You  behold  the  mourner  of  his  only  child,  the 
last  earthly  stay  and  blessing  of  his  declining 
years  !  Such  a  child  too  !  It  becomes  not  me  to 
speak  of  her  virtues  ;  yet  it  is  but  gratitude  to 
mention  them,  because  they  were  exerted  towards 
myself.  Not  man}-  days  ago  you  saw  her  young, 
beautiful,  virtuous,  and  happy  :  ye  who  are  parents 
will  judge  of  my  felicity  then — ye  will  judge  of 


my  affliction  now.  But  I  look  towards  him  who 
struck  me  ;  I  see  the  hand  of  a  father  amidst  the 
chastenings  of  my  God.  Oh  !  could  I  make  you 
feel  what  it  is  to  pour  out  the  heart  when  it  is 
pressed  down  with  many  sorrows,  to  pour  it  out 
with  confidence  to  him,  in  whose  hands  are  life 
and  death,  on  whose  power  awaits  all  that  the 
first  enjoys,  and  in  contemplation  of  whom  disap- 
pears all  that  the  last  can  inflict.  For  we  are  not 
as  those  who  die  without  hope ;  we  know  that 
our  Redeemer  liveth — that  we  shall  live  with  him, 
with  our  friends  his  servants,  in  that  blessed  land 
where  sorrow  is  unknown,  and  happiness  is  end- 
less as  it  is  perfect.  Go,  then,  mourn  not  for  me  ; 
I  have  not  lost  my  child :  but  a  little  while  and 
we  shall  meet  again,  never  to  be  separated.  But 
ye  are  also  my  children  :  would  ye  that  I  should 
not  grieve  without  comfort?  So  live  as  she  lived  ; 
that  when  your  death  cometh,  it  may  be  the  death 
of  the  righteous,  and  your  latter  end  like  his. ' ' 

Such  was  the  exhortation  of  La  Roche ;  his 
audience  answered  it  with  their  tears.  The  good 
old  man  had  dried  up  his  at  the  altar  of  the  Lord  ; 
his  countenance  had  lost  its  sadness,  and  assumed 

the  glow  of  faith  and  of  hope.     Mr. followed 

him  into  his  house.  The  inspiration  of  the  pulpit 
was  past ;  at  sight  of  him  the  scene  they  had  last 
met  in  rushed  again  on  his  mind  ;  La  Roche  threw 
his  arms  round  his  neck,  and  watered  it  with  his 
tears.  The  other  was  equally  affected  ;  they  went 
together  in  silence  into  the  parlor  where  the  even- 
ing service  was  wont  to  be  performed.  The  cur- 
tains of  the  organ  were  open  ;  La  Roche  started 
back  at  the  sight.     "Oh!  my  friend,"  said'he, 

and  his  tears  burst  forth  again.      Mr.  had 

now  recollected  himself;  he  stept  forward  and 
drew  the  curtains  close  ;  the  old  man  wiped  off 
his  tears,  and  taking  his  friend's  hand,  "You  see 
my  weakness,"  said  he;  "  'tis  the  weakness  of 
humanity  ;  but  my  comfort  is  not  therefore  lost." 
"  I  heard  you,"  said  the  other,  "in  the  pulpit;  I 
rejoice  that  such  consolation  is  yours."  "It  is, 
my  friend, "  said  he,  ' '  and  I  trust  I  shall  ever  hold 
it  fast.  If  there  are  any  who  doubt  our  faith,  let 
them  think  of  what  importance  religion  is  to 
calamity,  and  forbear  to  weaken  its  force  ;  if  they 
cannot  restore  our  happiness,  let  them  not  take 
away  the  solace  of  our  affliction." 

Mr. 's  heart  was  smitten  ;  and  I  have  heard 

him  long  after  confess  that  there  were  moments 
when  the  remembrance    overcame   him  even  to 


480 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


weakness ;  when,  amidst  all  the  pleasures  of 
philosophical  discover}',  and  the  pride  of  literary 
fame,  he  recalled  to  his  mind  the  venerable  figure 
of  the  good  La  Roche,  and  wished  that  he  had 
never  doubted. 


CAPTIVITY   VERSUS   LIBERTY. 
BY  LAURENCE  STERNE. 

AND  as  for  the    Bastile,  the  terror  is  in  the 
word.     Make  the  most  of  it  you  can,  said  I 
to  myself,  the  Bastile  is  but  another  word  for  a 


PORTION    OK  THE    ANCIENT   WALLS   OF   THE 

tower,  and  a  tower  is  but  another  word  for  a  house 
you  can't  get  out  of.  Mercy  on  the  gouty  !  for 
they  are  in  it  twice  a-year  ;  but  with  nine  livres  a 
day,  and  pen,  and  ink,  and  paper,  and  patience, 
albeit  a  man  can't  get  out,  he  may  do  very  well 
within,  at  least  for  a  month  or  six  weeks  ;  at  the 
end  of  which,  if  he  is  a  harmless  fellow,  his  inno- 


cence appears,  and  he  comes  out  a  better  and 
wiser  man  than  he  went  in. 

I  had  some  occasion  (I  forget  what)  to  step  into 
the  court-yard  as  I  settled  this  account ;  and  re- 
member I  walked  clown  stairs  in  no  small  triumph 
with  the  conceit  of  my  reasoning.  Beshrew  the 
sombre  pencil !  said  I  vauntingly,  for  I  envy  not 
its  powers  which  paints  the  evils  of  life  with  so 
hard  and  deadly  a  coloring.  The  mind  sits  terri- 
fied at  the  obiects  she  has  magnified  herself  and 
blackened  :  reduce  them  to  their  proper  size  and 
hue,  she  overlooks  them. 
"Tis  true,  said  I,  correcting 
the'  proposition,  the  Bastile 
is  not  an  evil  to  be  despised ; 
but  strip  it  of  its  towers,  fill 
up  the  fosse,  unbarricade  the 
doors,  call  it  simply  a  confine- 
ment, and  suppose  'tis  some 
tyrant  of  a  distemper  and  not 
of  a  man  which  holds  you  in 
it,  the  evil  vanishes,  and  you 
bear  the  other  half  without 
complaint.  I  was  interrupted 
in  the  heyday  of  this  soliloquy 
with  a  voice  which  I  took  to 
be  of  a  child,  which  com- 
plained "  it  could  not  get  out." 
I  looked  up  and  down  the 
passage,  and  seeing  neither 
man,  woman,  nor  child,  I  went 
out  without  further  attention. 
In  my  return  back  through  the 
passage,  I  heard  the  same 
words  repeated  twice  over  ;  and 
looking  up,  I  saw  it  was  a 
starling  hung  in  a  little  cage  ; 
"I  can't  get  out,  I  can't  get 
out,"  said  the  starling.  I  stood 
looking  at  the  bird  ;  and  to 
every  person  who  came  through, 
the  passage,  it  ran  fluttering 
to  the  side  towards  which  they 
bastile.  approached  it,  with  the  same 

lamentation  of  its  captivity— "  I  can't  get  out," 
said  the  starling.  God  help  thee  !  said  I,  but  I'll 
let  thee  out,  cost  what  it  will  ;  so  I  turned  about 
the  cage  to  get  the  door.  It  was  twisted  and  dou- 
ble twisted  so  fast  with  wire  there  was  no  getting 
it  open  without  pulling  the  cage  to  pieces.  I  took 
both   hands  to   it.     The  bird   flew  to  the    place 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


481 


■where  I  was  attempting  his  deliverance,  and 
thrusting  his  head  through  the  trellis,  pressed  his 
breast  against  it  as  if  impitient ;  I  fear,  poor  crea- 
ture, said  I,  I  cannot  set  thee  at  liberty.  "  No," 
said  the  starling,  "  I  can't  get  out ;  I  can't  get 
out,"  said  the  starling.  I  vow  I  never  had  my 
affections  more  ten- 
derly awakened ;  or 
do  I  remember  an 
incident  in  1113'  life 
where  the  dissipated 
spirits,  to  which  my 
reason  had  been  a 
bubble,  were  so  sud- 
denly called  home. 
Mechanical  as  the 
notes  were,  3-et  so 
true  in  tune  to  nature 
were  they  chanted, 
that  in  one  moment 
they  overthrew  all 
my  systematic  rea- 
sonings upon  the 
Bastile  ;  and  I  heavily 
walked  up  stairs,  un- 
saying every  word  I 
had  said  in  going 
down  them. 

Disguise  thyself  as 
thou  wilt,  still  Sla- 
very, said  I,  still  thou 
art  a  bitter  draught ; 
and  though  thou- 
sands in  all  ages  have 
been  made  to  drink 
of  thee,  thou  art  no 
less  bitter  on  that  ac- 
count. "Tis  thou, 
thrice  sweet  and  gra- 
cious  goddess,  ad- 
dressing myself  to 
Liberty,  whom  all  in 
public  or  in  private 
worship,  whose  taste 
is  grateful,  and  ever 

will  be  so,  till  nature  herself  shall  change  ;  no 
tint  of  words  can  spot  thy  snowy  mantle,  or 
chemic  power  turn  thy  sceptre  into  iron  ;  with 
thee  to  smile  upon  him  as  he  eats  his  crust,  the 
swain  is  happier  than  his  monarch,  from  whose 
court  thou  art  exiled.  Gracious  heaven  !  cried  I, 
3i 


kneeling  down  upon  the  last  step  but  one  in  my 
ascent,  grant  me  but  health,  thou  great  bestower 
of  it,  and  give  me  but  this  fair  goddess  as  my 
companion,  and  shower  down  thy  mitres,  if  it 
seem  good  unto  thy  divine  providence,  upon  those 
heads  which  are  aching  for  them. 


THE   PRISONERS. 

The  bird  in  his  cage  pursued  me  into  my  room, 
I  sat  down  close  to  my  table,  and  leaning  my 
head  upon  my  hand,  I  began  to  figure  to  myself 
the  miseries  of  confinement.  I  was  in  a  right 
frame  for  it,  and  so  I  gave  full  scope  to  my  imagi- 
nation.    I  was  going  to  begin  with  the  millions 


482 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


of  niy  fellow-creatures  born  to  no  inheritance  but 
slavery  ;  but  finding,  however  affecting  the  pic- 
ture was,  that  I  could  not  bring  it  near  me,  and 
that  the  multitude  of  sad  groups  in  it  did  but  dis- 
tract me,  I  took  a  single  captive,  and  having  first 
shut  him  up  in  his  dungeon,  I  then  looked 
through  the  twilight  of  his  grated  door  to  take 
his  picture.  I  beheld  his  body  half-wasted  away 
with  long  expectation  and  confinement,  and  felt 
what  kind  of  sickness  of  the  heart  it  was  which 
arises  from  hope  deferred.  Upon  looking  nearer, 
I  saw  him  pale  and  feverish  ;  in  thirty  years  the 
western  breeze  had  not  once  fanned  his  blood  ;  he 
had  seen  no  sun,  no  moon,  in  all  that  time,  nor 
had  the  voice  of  friend  or  kinsman  breathed 
through  his  lattice  ;  his  children — but  here  my 
heart  began  to  bleed,  and  I  was  forced  to  go  on 
with  another  part  of  the  portrait.  He  was  sitting 
upon  the  ground  upon  a  little  straw,  in  the  fur- 
thest corner  of  his  dungeon,  which  was  alternately 
his  chair  and  bed  ;  a  little  calendar  of  small  sticks 
lay  at  the  head,  notched  all  over  with  the  dismal 
days  and  nights  he  had  passed  there  ;  he  had  one 
of  these  little  sticks  in  his  hand,  and  with  a  rusty 
nail  he  was  etching  another  day  of  misery  to  add 
to  the  heap.  As  I  darkened  the  little  light  he  had, 
he  lifted  up  a  hopeless  eye  towards  the  door,  then 
cast  it  down,  shook  his  head,  and  went  on  with 
his  work  of  affliction.  I  heard  his  chains  upon 
his  legs,  as  he  turned  his  body  to  lay  his  little 
stick  upon  the  bundle.  He  gave  a  deep  sigh  :  I 
saw  the  iron  enter  into  his  soul.  I  burst  into 
tears  ;  I  could  not  sustain  the  picture  of  confine- 
ment which  my  fancy  had  drawn. 


HARLEY  AND  THE    BEGGAR. 

BY     HENRY     M'KENZIE. 

T^E  had  taken  leave  of  his  aunt  on  the  eve  of 
Ay  his  intended  departure  ;  but  the  good  lady's 
affection  for  her  nephew  interrupted  her  sleep,  and 
early  as  it  was,  next  morning  when  Harley  came 
down  stairs  to  set  out,  he  found  her  in  the  parlor 
with  a  tear  on  her  cheek,  and  her  caudle-cup  in 
her  hand.  She  knew  enough  of  physic  to  prescribe 
against  going  abroad  of  a  morning  with  an 
empty  stomach.  She  gave  her  blessing  with  the 
draught  ;  her  instructions  she  had  delivered  the 
night  before.  They  consisted  mostly  of  negatives ; 
for  London,  in  her  idea,  was  so  replete  with  tempta- 
tions, that  it  needed  the  whole  armor  of  her 
friendly  cautions  to  repel  their  attacks. 


Peter  stood  at  the  door.  Harley' s  father  had 
taken  him  up  an  orphan,  and  saved  him  from 
being  cast  on  the  parish ;  and  he  had  ever  since 
remained  in  the  sen-ice  of  him  and  of  his  son. 
Harley  shook  him  by  the  hand  as  he  passed, 
smiling,  as  if  he  had  said,  "I  will  not  weep." 
He  sprung  hastily  into  the  chaise  that  waited 
for  him;  Peter  folded  up  the  step.  "My 
dear  master,"  said  he,  shaking  the  solitary 
lock  that  hung  on  either  side  of  his  head,  "I 
have  been  told  as  how  London  is  a  sad  place." 
He  was  choked  with  the  thought,  and  his  bene- 
diction could  not  be  heard.  But  it  shall  be  heard, 
honest  Peter !  where  these  tears  will  add  to  its 
energy. 

In  a  few  hours  Harley  reached  the  inn  where 
he  proposed  breakfasting  ;  but  the  fulness  of  his 
heart  would  not  suffer  him  to  eat  a  morsel.  He 
walked  out  on  the  road,  and  gaining  a  little 
height,  stood  gazing  on  the  quarter  he  had  left. 
He  looked  for  his  wonted  prospect,  his  fields,  his 
woods,  and  his  hills ;  they  were  lost  in  the  dis- 
tant clouds  !  He  pencilled  them  on  the  clouds, 
and  bade  them  farewell  with  a  sigh  ! 

He  sat  down  on  a  large  stone  to  take  out  a  lit- 
tle pebble  from  his  shoe,  when  he  saw,  at  some 
distance,  a  beggar  approaching  him.  He  had  on 
a  loose  sort  of  a  coat,  mended  with  different-col- 
ored rags,  amongst  which  the  blue  and  the  rus- 
set were  the  predominant.  He  had  a  short  knotty 
stick  in  his  hand,  and  on  the  top  of  it  was  stuck 
a  ram's  horn  ;  his  knees  (though  he  was  no  pil- 
grim) had  worn  the  stuff  of  his  breeches  ;  he  wore 
no  shoes,  and  his  stockings  had  entirely  lost  that 
part  of  them  which  should  have  covered  his  feet 
and  ankles.  In  his  face,  however,  was  the  plump 
appearance  of  good  humor :  he  walked  a  good 
round  pace,  and  a  crooked-legged  dog  trotted  at 
his  heels. 

"Our  delicacies."  said  Harley  to  himself,  "are 
fantastic ;  they  are  not  in  nature  !  that  beggar 
walks  over  the  sharpest  stones  barefooted,  while  I 
have  lost  the  most  delightful  dream  in  the  world 
from  the  smallest  of  them  happening  to  get  into 
my  shoe."  The  beggar  had  by  this  time  come 
up,  and,  pulling  off  a  piece  of  hat,  asked  charity 
of  Harley ;  the  dog  began  to  beg  too.  It  was 
impossible  to  resist  both  ;  and,  in  truth,  the  want 
of  shoes  and  stockings  had  made  both  unneces- 
sary, for  Harley  had  destined  sixpence  for  him 
before.     The  beggar,  on  receiving  it,  poured  forth 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY, 


483 


blessings  without  number ;  and,  with  a  sort  of  a 
smile  on  his  countenance,  said  to  Harley,  ' '  that  if 
he  wanted  his  fortune  told — "  Harley  turned  his 
■eyes  briskly  on  the  beggar  :  it  was  an  unpromis- 
ing look  for  the  subject  of  a  prediction,  and 
silenced  the  prophet  immediately.  ' '  I  would 
much  rather  learn,"  said  Harley,  "what  it  is  in 
your  power  to  tell  me  :  your  trade  must  be  an  en- 
tertaining one  :  sit  down  on  this  stone,  and  let  me 
know  something  of  your  profession  ;  I  have  often 
thought  of  turning  fortune-teller  for  a  week  or 
two  myself. ' ' 

"Master,"  replied  the  beggar,  "I  like  your 
frankness  much  ;  God  knows  I  had  the  humor 
of  plain  dealing  in  me  from  a  child  ;  but  there  is 
no  doing  with  it  in  this  world  ;  we  must  live  as  we 
■can,  and  lying  is,  as  you  call  it,  my  profession : 
but  I  was  in  some  sort  forced  to  the  trade,  for  I 
■dealt  once  in  telling  truth.  I  was  a  laborer,  sir, 
and  gained  as  much  as  to  make  me  live  :  I  never 
laid  by  indeed ;  for  I  was  reckoned  a  piece 
of  a  wag,  and  your  wags,  I  take  it,  are  seldom 
rich,  Mr.  Harley."  "So,"  said  Harley,  "you 
seem  to  know  me. "  "  Ay,  there  are  few  folks  in 
the  country  that  I  don' t  know  something  of ;  how 
should  I  tell  fortunes  else?"  "  True  ;  but  to  go  on 
with  your  story:  you  were  a  laborer,  you  say, 
and  a  wag  ;  your  industry,  I  suppose,  you  left 
with  your  old  trade ;  but  your  humor  you  pre- 
serve to  be  of  use  to  you  in  your  new. ' ' 

' '  What  signifies  sadness,  sir  ?  a  man  grows  lean 
on't :  but  I  was  brought  to  my  idleness  by  degrees  ; 
first  I  could  not  work,  and  it  went  against  my 
stomach  to  work  ever  after.  I  was  seized  with  a 
jail  fever  at  the  time  of  the  assizes  being  in  the 
country  where  I  lived  ;  for  I  was  curious  to  get 
acquainted  with  the  felons,  because  they  are  com- 
monly fellows  of  much  mirth  and  little  thought, 
qualities  I  had  ever  an  esteem  for.  In  the  height 
of  this  fever,  Mr.  Harley,  the  house  where  I  lay 
took  fire,  and  burnt  to  the  ground  ;  I  was  carried 
out  in  that  condition,  and  lay  all  the  rest  of  my  ill- 
ness in  a  barn.  I  got  the  better  of  my  disease,  how- 
ever, but  I  was  so  weak  that  I  spit  blood  when- 
ever I  attempted  to  work.  I  had  no  relation 
living  that  I  knew  of,  and  I  never  kept  a  friend 
above  a  week  when  I  was  able  to  joke  ;  I  seldom 
remained  above  six  months  in  a  parish,  so  that  I 
might  have  died  before  I  had  found  a  settlement 
in  any  :  thus  I  was  forced  to  beg  my  bread,  and  a 
sorry  trade  I  found  it,  Mr.  Harley.     I  told  all  my 


misfortunes,  but  they  were  seldom  believed  ;  and 
the  few  who  gave  me  a  halfpenny  as  they  passed, 
did  it  with  a  shake  of  the  head,  and  an  injunction 
not  to  trouble  them  with  a  long  story.  In  short, 
I  found  that  the  people  do  not  c&re  to  give 
alms  without  some  security  for  their  money ;  a 
wooden  leg,  or  a  withered  arm  is  a  sort  of  a 
draught  upon  heaven  for  those  who  choose  to 
have  their  money  placed  to  account  there ;  so  I 
changed  my  plan,  and,  instead  of  telling  my  own 
misfortunes,  began  to  prophesy  happiness  to 
others.  This  I  found  by  much  the  better  way  : 
folks  will  always  listen  when  the  tale  is  their  own  ; 
and  of  many  who  say  they  do  not  believe  in  for- 
tune telling,  I  have  known  few  on  whom  it  had 
not  a  very  sensible  effect.  I  pick  up  the  names 
of  their  acquaintance  ;  amours  and  little  squabbles 
are  easily  gleaned  among  servants  and  neigh- 
bors ;  and  indeed  people  themselves  are  the  best 
intelligencers  in  the  world  for  our  puipose  ;  they 
dare  not  puzzle  us  for  their  own  sakes,  for  every 
one  is  anxious  to  hear  what  they  wish  to  believe  ; 
and  they  who  repeat  it,  to  laugh  at  it  when  they 
have  done,  are  generally  more  serious  than  their 
hearers." 


CHIVALRY  OF  THE  MIDDLE  AGES. 

BY   WILLIAM    ROBERTSON. 

AMONG  uncivilized  nations,  there  is  but  one 
profession  honorable — that  of  arms.  All 
the  ingenuity  and  vigor  of  the  human  mind  are 
exerted  in  acquiring  military  skill  or  address. 
The  functions  of  peace  are  few  and  simple,  and 
require  no  particular  course  of  education  or  of 
study  as  a  preparation  for  discharging  them.  This 
was  the  state  of  Europe  during  several  centuries. 
Every  gentleman,  born  a  soldier,  scorned  any 
other  occupation.  He  was  taught  no  science  but 
that  of  war  ;  even  his  exercises  and  pastimes  were 
feats  of  martial  prowess.  Nor  did  the  judicial 
character,  which  persons  of  noble  birth  were  alone 
entitled  to  assume,  demand  any  degree  of  know- 
ledge beyond  that  which  such  untutored  soldiers 
possessed.  To  recollect  a  few  traditionary  cus- 
toms which  time  had  confirmed  and  rendered  re- 
spectable, to  mark  out  the  lists  of  battle  with  due 
formality,  to  observe  the  issue  of  the  combat,  and 
to  pronounce  whether  it  had  been  conducted  ac- 
cording to  the  laws  of  arms,  included  every  thing 
that  a  baron, 'who  acted  as  a  judge,  found  it  ne- 
cessary to  understand. 


fZ^T^^'C^V:  r^r-r^-^-rr^-,  ■ 'j^^^^T/r'-i ,: 


■   ;.-v  - 


^v»%C3 


:->*. 


HH 


(484) 


A  KNIGHT  OE  THE  MIDDLE  AGES.— (By  Leonardo  da  Vinci.) 


THE   BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


485 


But  when  the  rules  of  legal  proceedings  were 
fixed,  when  the  rules  of  decision  were  committed 
to  writing  and  collected  into  a  bod}',  law  became 
a  science,  the  knowledge  of  which  required  a  reg- 
ular course  of  study,  together  with  long  attention 
to  the  practice  of  courts.  Martial  and  illiterate 
nobles  had  neither  leisure  nor  inclination  to  under- 
take a  task  so  laborious,  as  well  as  so  foreign  from 
all  the  occupations  which  they  deemed  entertain- 
ing or  suitable  to  their  rank.  They  gradually  re- 
linquished their  places  in  courts  of  justice,  where 
their  ignorance  exposed  them  to  contempt.  They 
became  weary  of  attending  to  the  dis- 
cussion of  cases  which  grew  too  intricate 
for  them  to  comprehend.  Not  only 
the  judicial  determination  of  points, 
which  were  the  subject  of  controversy, 
but  the  conduct  of  all  legal  business  and 
transactions,  was  committed  to  persons 
trained  by  previous  study  and  applica- 
tion to  the  knowledge  of  law.  An  order 
of  men,  to  whom  their  fellow-citizens 
had  daily  recourse  for  advice,  and  to 
whom  they  looked  up  for  decision  in 
their  most  important  concerns,  naturally 
acquired  consideration  and  influence  in 
society.  They  were  advanced  to  honors 
which  had  been  considered  hitherto  as  the 
peculiar  rewards  of  military  virtue.  They 
were  intrusted  with  offices  of  the  highest 
dignity  and  most  extensive  power.  Thus, 
another  profession  than  that  of  amis 
came  to  be  introduced  among  the  laity, 
and  was  reputed  honorable.  The  func- 
tions of  civil  life  were  attended  to.  The 
talents  requisite  for  discharging  them 
were  cultivated.  A  new  road  was  opened 
to  wealth  and  eminence.  The  arts  and 
virtues  of  peace  were  placed  in  their 
proper  rank,  and  received  their  due  recompense. 

While  improvements,  so  important  with  respect 
to  the  state  of  societ}'  and  the  administration  of 
justice  gradually  made  progress  in  Europe,  sen- 
timents more  liberal  and  generous  had  begun  to 
animate  the  nobles.  These  were  inspired  by  the 
spirit  of  chivalry,  which,  though  considered  com- 
monly as  a  wild  institution,  the  effect  of  caprice, 
and  the  source  of  extravagance,  arose  naturally 
from  the  state  of  society  at  that  period,  and  had 
a  very  serious  influence  in  refining  the  manners 
of  the  European  nations.      The  feudal  state  was 


a  state  of  almost  perpetual  war,  rapine,  and  an- 
archy ;  during  which  the  weak  and  unarmed  were 
exposed  to  insults  or  injuries.  The  power  of  the 
sovereign  was  too  limited  to  prevent  these  wrongs, 
and  the  administration  of  justice  too  feeble  to  re- 
dress them.  The  most  effectual  protection  against 
violence  and  oppression  was  often  found  to  be  that 
which  the  valor  and  generosity  of  private  per- 
sons afforded.  The  same  spirit  of  enterprise 
which  had  prompted  so  many  gentlemen  to  take 
arms  in  defence  of  the  oppressed  pilgrims  in 
Palestine,  incited  others  to  declare  themselves  the 


A   TOURNAMENT   OF 


tht?  eleventh  century. — (Copy  of  ancient 
engraving). 

patrons  and  avengers  of  injured  innocence  at 
home.  When  the  final  reduction  of  the  Holy 
Land,  under  the  dominion  of  infidels,  put  an  end 
to  these  foreign  expeditions,  the  latter  was  the 
only  employment  left  for  the  activity  and  courage 
of  adi-enturers.  To  check  the  insolence  of  over- 
grown oppressors ;  to  rescue  the  helpless  from 
captivity  ;  to  protect  or  to  avenge  women,  or- 
phans, and  ecclesiastics,  who  could  not  bear  arms 
in  their  own  defence  ;  to  redress  wrongs  and  re- 
move grievances ;  were  deemed  acts  of  highest 
prowess  and  merit.      Valor,  humanity,  courtesy 


486 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


justice,  honor,  were  the  characteristic  qualities  of 
chivalry.  To  these  were  added  religion,  which 
mingled  itself  with  every  passion  and  institution 


KNIGHT  IN    FULL   SUIT   OF   PLATE   ARMOR. 

during  the  middle  ages,  and  by  infusing  a  large 
proportion  of  enthusiastic  zeal,  gave  them  such 
force  as  cgrried  them  to 
romantic  excess.  Men 
were  trained  to  knight- 
hood by  a  long  previous 
discipline  ;  they  were  ad- 
mitted into  the  order  by 
solemnities  no  less  devout 
than  pompous;  every 
person  of  noble  birth 
courted  that  honor ;  it 
was  deemed  a  distinction 
superior  to  royalty  ;  and 
monarchs  were  proud  to 
receive  it  from  the  hands 
of  private  gentlemen. 

This  singular  institu- 
tion, in  which  valor,  gal- 
lantry, and  religion,  were 
so  strangely  blended,  was 
wonderfully  adapted  to 
the  taste  and  genius  of 
martial  nobles ;  and  its 
effects  were  soon  visible 
in  their  manners.  War 
was  carried  on  with  less 

ferocity  when  humanity  came  to  be  deemed  the 
ornament  of  knighthood  no  less  than  courage. 
More  gentle  and  polished  manners  were  introduced 


when  courtesy  was  recommended  as  the  most  ami- 
able of  knightly  virtues.  Violence  and  oppres- 
sion decreased  when  it  was  reckoned  meritorious 
to  check  and  to  punish  them.  A  scrupulous  ad- 
herence to  truth,  with  the  most  religious  attention 
to  fulfil  every  engagement,  became  the  distin- 
guishing characteristic  of  a  gentleman,  because 
chivalry  was  regarded  as  the  school  of  honor,  and 
inculcated  the  most  delicate  sensibility  with  re- 
spect to  those  points.  The  admiration  of  these 
qualities,  together  with  the  high  distinctions  and 
prerogatives  conferred  on  knighthood  in  every 
part  of  Europe,  inspired  persons  of  noble  birth  on 
some  occasions  with  a  species  of  military  fanati- 
cism, and  led  them  to  extravagant  enterprises.  But 
they  deeply  imprinted  on  their  minds  the  princi- 
ples of  generosity  and  honor.  These  were  strength- 
ened by  everything  that  can  affect  the  senses  or 
touch  the  heart.  The  wild  exploits  of  those 
romantic  knights  who  sallied  forth  in  quest  of 
adventures  are  well  known,  and  have  been  treated 
with  proper  ridicule.  The  political  and  permanent 
effects  of   the  spirit  of  chivalry  have  been  less 


conferring  knighthood  on  the  FIELD  OF  battle. — (Copy  of  ancient  engraving.) 

observed.  Perhaps  the  humanity  which  accom- 
panies all  the  operations  of  war.  the  refinements 
of  gallantry,  and  the  point  of  honor — the  three 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


487 


chief  circumstances  which  distinguish  modern 
from  ancient  manners — ma)-  be  ascribed  in  a  great 
measure  to  this  institution,  which  has  appeared 
whimsical  to  superficial  observers,  but  by  its 
effects  has  proved  of  great  benefit  to  mankind. 
The  sentiments  which  chivalry  inspired  had  a 
wonderful  influence  on  man- 
ners and  conduct  during  the 
twelfth,  thirteenth,  four- 
teenth, and  fifteenth  centu- 
ries. They  were  so  deeply 
rooted,  that  the}'  continued 
to  operate  after  the  vigor 
and  reputation  of  the  insti- 
tution itself  began  to  decline. 


of  the  Nabob  of  Arcot,  he  drew  from  every 
quarter  whatever  a  savage  ferocity  could  add  to 
his  new  rudiments  in  the  arts  of  destruction ; 
and  compounding  all  the  materials  of  fury,  havoc, 
and  desolation,  into  one  black  cloud,  he  hung  for 
a  while   on    the   declivities    of  the    mountains. 


DESTRUCTION   OF  THE 
CARNATIC. 

BY    EDMUND    BURKE. 

7TVHEN  at  length  Hyder 
\X)  AH  found  that  he  had 
to  do  with  men  who  either 
would  sign  no  convention, 
or  whom  no  treat)'  and  no 
signature  could  bind,  and 
who  were  the  determined 
enemies  of  human  inter- 
course itself,  he  decreed  to 
make  the  country  possessed 
by  these  incorrigible  and 
predestinated  criminals  a 
memorable  example  to  man- 
kind He  resolved  in  the 
gloomy  recesses  of  a  mind 
capacious  of  such  things,  to 
leave  the  whole  Carnatic  an 
everlasting  monument  of 
vengeance,  and  to  put  per- 
petual desolation  as  a  bar- 
rier between  him  and  those 

.  against  whom  the  faith 
which  holds  the  moral  ele- 
ments of  the  world  together 

.was  no  protection.  He  be- 
came at  length  so  confident 
of  his  force,  so  collected  in 
his  might,  that  he  made  no 

secret  whatever  of  his  dreadful  resolution.  Having 
terminated  his  disputes  with  every  enemy  and 
every  rival,  who  buried  their  mutual  animosities 
in  their  common  detestation  against  the  creditors 


MAIL-CI.AD    KNIGHTS    OF  THE   PERIOD    OF   THE    CRUSADES. 

Whilst  the  authors  of  all  these  evils  were  idly 
and  stupidly  gazing  on  the  menacing  meteor 
which  blackened  all  their  horizon,  it  suddenly 
burst  and  poured  down  the  whole  of  its  contents 


488 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


upon  the  plains  of  the  Carnatic.  Then  ensued  a 
scene  of  woe,  the  like  of  which  no  eye  had  seen, 
no  heart  conceived,  and  which  no  tongue  can 
adequately  tell.  All  the  horrors  of  war  before 
known  or  heard  of  were  mercy  to  that  new 
havoc.  A  storm  of  universal  fire  blasted  every 
field,  consumed  every  house,  destroyed  ever}' 
temple.  The  miserable  inhabitants  flying  from 
the  flaming  villages,  in  part  were  slaughtered  : 
Others,  without  regard  to  sex,  to  age,  to  the  re- 


done by  charity  that  private  charity  could  do : 
but  it  was  a  people  in  beggary  ;  it  was  a  nation 
that  stretched  out  its  hands  for  food.  For 
months  together  these  creatures  of  sufferance, 
whose  very  excess  and  luxury  in  their  most 
plenteous  days  had  fallen  short  of  the  allowance 
of  our  austerest  fasts,  silent,  patient,  resigned, 
without  sedition  or  disturbance,  almost  without 
complaint,  perished  by  a  hundred  a  day  in  the 
streets   of  Madras  ;    every  day  seventy  at   least 


HORRORS   OF   THE 

spect  of  rank,  or  sacredness  of  function  ;  fathers 
torn  from  children,  husbands  from  wives,  envel- 
oped in  a  whirlwind  of  cavalry,  and  amidst  the 
goading  spears  of  drivers,  and  the  trampling  of 
pursuing  horses,  were  swept  into  captivity,  in  an 
unknown  and  hostile  land.  Those  who  were 
able  to  evade  this  tempest  fled  to  the  walled 
cities  ;  but,  escaping  from  fire,  sword,  and  exile, 
the}-  fell  into  the  jaws  of  famine. 

The  alms  of  the  settlement,   in    this    dreadful 
exigency,    were    certainly   liberal ;    and    all  was 


WAR    IN   INDIA. 

laid  their  bodies  in  the  streets,  or  on  the  glacis  of 
Tanjore,  and  expired  of  famine  in  the  granary  of 
India.  I  was  going  to  awake  your  justice 
towards  this  unhappy  part  of  our  fellow-citizens, 
by  bringing  before  you  some  of  the  circumstances 
of  this  plague  of  hunger.  Of  all  the  calamities 
which  beset  and  waylay  the  life  of  man,  this 
comes  the  nearest  to  our  heart,  and  is  that 
wherein  the  proudest  of  us  all  feels  himself 
to  be  nothing  more  than  he  is  :  but  I  find  myself 
unable  to  manage  it  with  decorum  ;    these  details 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


489 


are  of  a  species  of  horror  so  nauseous  and  dis- 
gusting ;  they  are  so  degrading  to  the  sufferers 
and  to  the  hearers  ;  the}-  are  so  humiliating  to 
human  nature  itself,  that,  on  better  thoughts,  I 
find  it  more  advisable  to  throw  a  pall  over  this 
hideous  object,  and  to  leave  it  to  your  general 
conceptions. 

For  eighteen  months,  without  intermission, 
this  destruction  raged  from  the  gates  of  Madras 
to  the  gates  of  Tanjore  ;  and  so  completely  did 
these  masters  in  their  art,  Hyder  Ali  and  his 
more  ferocious  son,  absolve  themselves  of  their 
impious  vow,  that  when  the  British  armies  tra- 
versed, as  they  did,  the  Carnatic  for  hundreds  of 
miles  in  all  directions,  through  the  whole  line  of 
their  march  did  they  not  see  one  man,  not  one 
woman,  not  one  child,  not  one  four-footed  beast 
•of  any  description  whatever  One  dead  uniform 
silence  reigned  over  the  whole  region.  *  *  * 
The  Carnatic  is  a  country  not  much  inferior  in 
■extent  to  England.  Figure  to  yourself,  Mr. 
Speaker,  the  land  in  whose  representative  chair 
you  sit  ;  figure  to  yourself  the  form  and  fashion 
of  your  sweet  and  cheerful  country  from  Thames 
to  Trent,  north  and  south,  and  from  the  Irish  to 
the  German  sea,  east  and  west,  emptied  and  em- 
towelled  (may  God  avert  the  omen  of  our 
crimes  !)  by  so  accomplished  a  desolation  ! 


GOOD   BREEDING. 

TROM    LORD    CHESTERFIELD'S    LETTERS    TO    HIS 

SON. 

A  FRIEND  of  yours  and  mine  has  very  justly 
defined  good  breeding  to  be  "  the  result  of 
much  good  sense,  some  good  nature,  and  a  little 
self-denial  for  the  sake  of  others,  and  with  a  view 
to  obtain  the  same  indulgence  from  them."  Tak- 
ing this  for  granted  (as  I  think  it  cannot  be  dis- 
puted),  it  is  astonishing  to  me  that  anybody,  who 
has  good  sense  and  good  nature,  can  essentially 
fail  in  good  breeding.  As  to  the  modes  of  it, 
indeed,  they  vary  according  to  persons,  places, 
and  circumstances,  and  are  only  to  be  acquired 
by  observation  and  experience  ;  but  the  substance 
•of  it  is  everywhere  and  eternally  the  same.  Good 
manners  are,  to  particular  societies,  what  good 
morals  are  to  society  in  general — their  cement  and 
their  security.  And  as  laws  are  enacted  to  en- 
force good  morals,  or  at  least  to  prevent  the  ill 
effects  of  bad  ones,  so  there  are  certain  rules  of 
civility,  universally  implied   and  received,  to  en- 


force good  manners  and  punish  bad  ones.  And 
indeed  there  seems  to  me  to  be  less  difference 
both  between  the  crimes  and  punishments,  than 
at  first  one  would  imagine.  The  immoral  man, 
who  invades  another's  property,  is  justly  hanged 
for  it ;  and  the  ill-bred  man,  who  by  his  ill 
manners  invades  and  disturbs  the  quiet  and  com- 
forts of  private  life,  is  by  common  consent  as 
justly  banished  society.  Mutual  complaisances, 
attentions,  and  sacrifices  of  little  conveniences, 
are  as  natural  an  implied  compact  between  civil- 
ized people,  as  protection  and  obedience  are  be- 
tween kings  and  subjects  ;  whoever,  in  either  case, 
violates  that  compact,  justly  forfeits  all  advan- 
tages arising  from  it.  For  my  own  part,  I  really 
think  that,  next  to  the  consciousness  of  doing  a 
good  action,  that  of  doing  a  civil  one  is  the  most 
pleasing  ;  and  the  epithet  which  I  should  covet 
the  most,  next  to  that  of  Aristides,  would  be  that 
of  well-bred.  Thus  much  for  good  breeding  in 
general ;  I  will  now  consider  some  of  the  various 
modes  and  degrees  of  it. 

Very  few,  scarcely  any,  are  wanting  in  the 
respect  which  they  should  show  to  those  whom 
they  acknowledge  to  be  infinitely  their  superiors, 
such  as  crowned  heads,  princes,  and  public  per- 
sons of  distinguished  and  eminent  posts.  It  is 
the  manner  of  showing  that  respect  which  is  dif- 
ferent. The  man  of  fashion  and  of  the  world 
expresses  it  in  its  fullest  extent,  but  naturally, 
easily,  and  without  concern  ;  whereas  a  man  who 
is  not  used  to  keep  good  company  expresses  it 
awkwardly  ;  one  sees  that  he  is  not  used  to  it, 
and  that  it  costs  him  a  great  deal ;  but  I  never 
saw  the  worst-bred  man  living  guilt}'  of  lolling:, 
whistling,  scratching  his  head,  and  such  like  in- 
decencies, in  company  that  he  respected.  In  such 
companies,  therefore,  the  only  point  to  be  at- 
tended to  is,  to  show  that  respect  which  everybody 
means  to  show,  in  an  easy,  unembarrassed,  and 
graceful  manner.  This  is  what  observation  and 
experience  must  teach  you. 

In  mixed  companies,  whoever  is  admitted  to 
make  part  of  them  is,  for  the  time  at  least,  sup- 
posed to  be  on  a  footing  of  equality  with  the  rest ; 
and,  consequently,  as  there  is  no  one  principal 
object  of  awe  and  respect,  people  are  apt  to  take 
a  greater  latitude  in  their  behavior,  and  to  be 
less  upon  their  guard  ;  and  so  they  may,  provided 
it  be  within  certain  bounds,  which  are  upon  no 
occasion  to  be  transgressed.     But  upon  these  oc- 


(49°) 


THE   BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


491 


<^.sions,  though  no  one  is  entitled  to  distinguished 
marks  of  respect,  every  one  claims,  and  very 
justly,  every  mark  of  civility  and  good  breeding. 
Ease  is  allowed,  but  carelessness  and  negligence 
are  strictly  forbidden.  If  a  man  accosts  you,  and 
talks  to  you  ever  so  dully  or  frivolously,  it  is  worse 
than  rudeness,  it  is  brutality,  to  show  him,  by  a 
manifest  inattention  to  what  he  says,  that  you 
think  him  a  fool  or  a  blockhead,  and  not  worth 
hearing.  It  is  much  more  so  with  regard  to 
women,  who,  of  whatever  rank  they  are,  are  en- 
titled, in  consideration  of  their  sex,  not  only  to 
an  attentive,  but  an  officious  good  breeding  from 
men.  Their  little  wants,  likings,  dislikes,  pre- 
ferences, antipathies,  and  fancies,  must  be  offi- 
ciously attended  to,  and, -if  possible,  guessed  at 
and  anticipated,  by  a  well-bred  man.  You  must 
never  usurp  to  yourself  those  conveniences  and 
gratifications  which  are  of  common  right,  such  as 
the  best  places,  the  best  dishes,  etc.  ;  but  on  the 
contrary,  always  decline  them  yourself,  and  offer 
them  to  others,  who,  in  their  turns,  will  offer 
them  to  you  ;  so  that,  upon  the  whole,  you  will 
in  your  turn  enjoy  your  share  of  the  common 
right.  It  would  be  endless  for  me  to  enumerate 
all  the  particular  instances  in  which  a  well-bred 
man  shows  his  good  breeding  in  good  company  ; 
and  it  would  be  injurious  to  you  to  suppose  that 
your  own  good  sense  will  not  point  them  out  to 
you  ;  and  then  your  own  good  nature  will  recom- 
mend, and  your  self-interest  enforce  the  practice. 
There  is  a  third  sort  of  good  breeding,  in  which 
people  are  the  most  apt  to  fail,  from  a  very  mis- 
taken notion  that  they  cannot  fail  at  all.  I  mean 
with  regard  to  one's  most  familiar  friends  and 
acquaintances,  or  those  who  really  are  our  in- 
feriors ;  and  there,  undoubtedly,  a  greater  deg-i^fc 
of  ease  is  not  only  allowed,  but  proper,  and  con- 
tributes much  to  the  comforts  of  a  private  social 
life.  But  ease  and  freedom  have  their  bounds, 
which  must  by  no  means  be  violated.  A  certain 
degree  of  negligence  and  carelessness  becomes 
injurious  and  insulting,  from  the  real  or  supposed 
inferiority  of  the  persons ;  and  that  delightful 
liberty  of  conversation  among  a  few  friends  is 
soon  destroyed,  as  liberty  often  has  been,  by  being 
carried  to  licentiousness.  But  example  explains 
things  best,  and  I  will  put  a  pretty  strong  case  : 
Suppose  you  and  me  alone  together  ;  I  believe 
you  will  allow  that  I  have  as  good  a  right  to  un- 
limited freedom  in  your  company,  as  either  you 


or  I  can  possibly  have  in  an}r  other ;  and  I  am  apt 
to  believe,  too,  that  you  would  indulge  me  in  that 
freedom  as  far  as  anybody  would.  But,  notwith- 
standing this,  do  you  imagine  that  I  should  think 
there  was  no  bounds  to  that  freedom  ?  I  assure 
you  I  should  not  think  so  ;  and  I  take  myself  to 
be  as  much  tied  down  by  a  certain  degree  of  good 
manners  to  you,  as  by  other  degrees  of  them  to 
other  people.  The  most  familiar  and  intimate 
habitudes,  connections,  and  friendships,  require  a. 
degree  of  good  breeding  both  to  preserve  and 
cement  them.  The  best  of  us  have  our  bad  sides, 
and  it  is  as  imprudent  as  it  is  ill-bred  to  exhibit 
them.  I  shall  not  use  ceremony  with  you  ;  it 
would  be  misplaced  between  us  ;  but  I  shall  cer- 
tainly observe  that  degree  of  good  breeding  with 
you  which  is,  in  the  first  place,  decent,  and  which, 
I  am  sure,  is  absolutely  necessary  to  make  us  like- 
one  another's  company  long. 


DREAM-CHILDREN. 

BY    CHARLES    LAMB. 

/THIL,DREN  love  to  listen  to  stories  about  their 
\y     elders,  when  they  were  children  ;  to  stretch 
imagination  to  the  conception  of  a  traditionary 
great-uncle,  or  grandame,  whom  they  never  saw. 
It  was  in  this  spirit  that  my  little  ones  crept  about 
me  the  other  evening  to  hear  about  their  great- 
grandmother  Field,  who  lived  in  a  great  house  in 
Norfolk  (a    hundred   times   bigger   than   that  in 
which  they  and  papa  lived),  which  had  been  the 
scene — so  at  least  it  was  generally  believed  in  that 
part  of  the  country — of  the  tragic  incidents  which 
they  had  lateb-  become     miiliar   with   from  the 
bullae1  of  the  Children  in  jieWood.     Certain  it  is 
that  the  -  ..oiC  story  ol  the  children  and  their  cruel 
uncle  was  to  be  seen  fairly  carved  out  in  wood 
upon    the   chimney-piece  of  the  great    hall,    the 
whole  story  down  to  the  Robin  Redbreasts,  till  a 
foolish  rich  person  pulled  it  down  to  set  up  a  mar- 
ble one  of  modern  invention  in  its  stead,  with  no- 
story  upon  it.     Here  Alice  put  out  one  of  her  dear 
mother's  looks,  too  tender  to  be  called  upbraiding. 
Then  I  went  on  to  say  how  religious  and  how  good 
their  great-grandmother  Field  was,  how  beloved 
and  respected  by  everybody,  though  she  was  not 
indeed  the  mistress  of  this  great  house,  but  had 
only  the  charge  of  it  (and  yet  in  some  respects  she 
might  be  said  to  be  the  mistress  of  it  too)  com- 
mitted to  her  by  the  owner,  who  preferred  living 
in  a  newer  and  more  fashionable  mansion  which. 


492 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


he  had  purchased  somewhere  in  the  adjoining 
county  ;  but  still  she  lived  in  it  in  a  manner  as  if 
it  had  been  her  own,  and  kept  up  the  dignity  of 
the  great  house  in  a  sort  while  she  lived,  which 
afterwards  came  to  decay,  and  was  nearly  pulled 
down,  and  all  its  old  ornaments  stripped  and  car- 


DREAM-CHILDREN. 

ried  away  to  the  owner's  other  house,  where  they 
were  set  up,  and  looked  as  awkward  as  if  some 
one  were  to  carry  away  the  old  tombs  they  had 
seen  lately  at  the  abbey,  and  stick  them  up  in 
Iyady  C.'s  tawdry  gilt  drawing-room.  Here  John 
smiled,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  that  would  be  foolish 


indeed."  And  then  I  told  how,  when  she  came 
to  die,  her  funeral  was  attended  by  a  concourse 
of  all  the  poor,  and  some  of  the  gentry  too,  of 
the  neighborhood  for  many  miles  round,  to  show 
their  respect  for  her  memory,  because  she  had 
been  such  a  good  and  religious  woman  ;  so  good, 
-^tt.-.    -■■   -  — ^  ■  ■—   .--  .         ■«   i    indeed,      that 

she  knew  all 
i  the  Psalter  by 
!  heart,  ay,  and 
a  great  part  of 
the  Testament 
besides.  Here 
little  A  lice 
spread  her 
hands.  Then 
I  told  what  a 
tall,  upright, 
graceful  person 
their  great- 
gran  dmother 
Field  once  was; 
and  how  in  her 
youth  she  was 
esteemed  the 
best  dancer. 
Here  Alice's 
little  right  foot 
played  an  in- 
voluntary 
movement,  till, 
upon  my  look- 
ing grave,  it 
desisted  —  the 
best  dancer,  I 
was  saying, 
in  the  county, 
till  a  cruel  dis- 
ease, called  a 
cancer,  came, 
and  bowed  her 
down  with 
pain  ;  but  it 
could  never 
bend  her  spir- 
its, or  make  them  stoop,  but  they  were  still 
upright,  because  she  was  so  good  and  reli- 
gious. Then  I  told  how  she  was  used  to 
sleep  by  herself  in  a  lone  chamber  of  the  great 
lone  house  ;  and  how  she  believed  that  an  appari- 
tion of  two  infants  was   to   be  seen   at  midnight 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


493 


gading  up  and  down  the  great  staircase  near 
where  she  slept ;  but  she  said  ' '  those  innocents 
would  do  her  no  harm;"  and  how  frightened  I 
used  to  be,  though  in  those  days  I  had  my  maid 
to  sleep  with  me,  because  I  was  never  half  so 
good  or  religious  as  she — and  yet  I  never  saw  the 
infants.  Here  John  expanded  all  his  eyebrows, 
and  tried  to  look  courageous.  Then  I  told  how 
good  she  was  to  all  her  grandchildren,  having  us 
to  the  great  house  in  the  holidays,  where  I,  in 
particular,  used  to  spend  many  hours  by  myself 
in  gazing  upon  the  old  busts  of  the  twelve  Caesars 
that  had  been  emperors  of  Rome,  till  the  old 
marble  heads  would  seem  to  live  again,  or  I  to  be 
turned  into  marble  with  them  ;  how  I  never  could 
be  tired  with  roaming  about  that  huge  mansion, 
with  its  vast  empty  rooms,  with  their  worn-out 
hangings,  fluttering  tapestry,  and  carved  oaken 
pannels,  with  the  gilding  almost  rubbed  out — 
sometimes  in  the  spacious  old-fashioned  gardens, 
which  I  had  almost  to  myself,  unless,  when  now 
and  then  a  solitary  gardening  man  would  cross 
me — and  how  the  nectarines  and  peaches  hung 
upon  the  walls,  without  my  ever  offering  to  pluck 
them,  because  they  were  forbidden  fruit,  unless 
now  and  then,  and  because  I  had  more  pleasure 
in  strolling  about  among  the  old  melancholy- 
looking  yew  trees,  or  the  firs,  and  picking  up  the 
red  berries  and  the  fir  apples,  which  were  good 
for  nothing  but  to  look  at  ;  or  in  lying  about  upon 
the  fresh  grass,  with  all  the  fine  garden  smells 
around  me  ;  or  basking  in  the  orangery,  till  I 
could  almost  fancy  myself  ripening,  too,  along 
with  the  oranges  and  the  limes  in  that  grateful 
warmth  ;  or  in  watching  the  dace  that  darted  to 
and  fro  in  the  fish-pond  at  the  bottom  of  the  gar- 
den, with  here  and  there  a  great  sulky  pike 
hanging  midway  down  the  water  in  silent  state, 
as  if  it  mocked  at  their  impertinent  friskings.  I 
had  more  pleasure  in  these  busy-idle  diversions 
than  in  all  the  sweet  flavors  of  peaches,  necta- 
rines, oranges,  and  such  like  common  baits  of 
children.  Here  John  slyly  deposited  back  upon 
the  plate  a  bunch  of  grapes,  which,  not  unob- 
served by  Alice,  he  had  meditated  dividing  with 
her,  and  both  seemed  willing  to  relinquish  them 
for  the  present  as  irrelevant.  Then,  in  somewhat 
a  more  heightened  tone,  I  told  how,  though  their 
great-grandmother  Field  loved  all  her  grand- 
children, yet  in  an  especial  manner  she  might  be 
said  to  love  their  uncle,  John  L, ,  because  he 


was  so  handsome  and  spirited  a  youth,  and  a  king 
to  the  rest  of  us  ;  and,  instead  of  moping  about 
in  solitary  corners,  like  some  of  us,  he  would 
mount  the  most  mettlesome  horse  he  could  get, 
when  but  an  imp  no  bigger  than  themselves,  and 
make  it  carry  him  half  over  the  count}'  in  a  morn- 
ing, and  join  the  hunters  when  there  were  any 
out ;  and  yet  he  loved  the  old  great  house  and 
gardens  too,  but  had  too  much  spirit  to  be  always 
pent  up  within  their  boundaries  ;  and  how  their 
uncle  grew  up  to  man's  estate  as  brave  as  he  was 
handsome,  to  the  admiration  of  everybody,  but 
of  their  great-grandmother  Field  most  especially  ; 
and  how  he  used  to  carry  me  upon  his  back  when 
I  was  a  lame-footed  boy — for  he  was  a  good  bit 
older  than  me — many  a  mile  when  I  could  not 
walk  for  pain  ;  and  how,  in  after  life,  he  became 
lame-footed  too,  and  I  did  not  always,  I  fear,  make 
allowances  enough  for  him  when  he  was  impatient 
and  in  pain,  nor  remember  sufficiently  how  con- 
siderate he  had  been  to  me  when  I  was  lame- 
footed  ;  and  how,  when  he  died,  though  he  had 
not  been  dead  an  hour,  it  seemed  as  if  he  had  died 
a  great  while  ago,  such  a  distance  there  is  betwixt 
life  and  death ;  and  how  I  bore  his  death,  as  I 
thought,  pretty  well  at  first,  but  afterwards  it 
haunted  and  haunted  me  ;  and  though  I  did  not 
cry  or  take  it  to  heart  as  some  do,  and  as  I  think 
he  would  have  done  if  I  had  died,  yet  I  missed 
him  all  day  long,  and  knew  not  till  then  how 
much  I  had  loved  him.  I  missed  his  kindness, 
and  I  missed  his  crossness,  and  wished  him  to  be 
alive  again,  to  be  quarrelling  with  him  (for  we 
quarrelled  sometimes),  rather  than  not  have  him 
again  ;  and  was  as  uneasy  without  him,  as  he, 
their  poor  uncle,  must  have  been  when  the  doctor 
took  off  his  limb.  Here  the  children  fell  a-crying, 
and  asked  if  their  little  mourning  which  they  had 
on  was  not  for  Uncle  John  ;  and  they  looked  up, 
and  prayed  me  not  to  go  on  about  their  uncle,  but 
to  tell  them  some  stories  about  their  pretty  dead 
mother.  Then  I  told  how,  for  seven  long  years, 
in  hope  sometimes,  sometimes  in  despair,  yet  per- 
sisting ever,  I  courted  the  fair  Alice  W — n  ;  and, 
as  much  as  children  could  understand,  I  explained 
to  them  what  coyness,  and  difficulty,  and  denial 
meant  in  maidens ;  when  suddenly  turning  to 
Alice,  the  soul  of  the  first  Alice  looked  out  at  her 
eyes  with  such  a  reality  of  re-presentment,  that  I 
became  in  doubt  which  of  them  stood  there  before 
me,  or  whose  that  bright  hair  was ;  and  while  I 


494     THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL 


stood  gazing,  both  the  children  gradually  grew 
fainter  to  my  view,  receding,  and  still  receding, 
till  nothing  at  last  but  two  mournful  features  were 
seen  in  the  uttermost  distance,  which,  without 
speech,  strangely  impressed  upon  me  the  effects 
■of  speech  :  "We  are  not  of  Alice,  nor  of  thee; 
nor  are  we  children  at  all.  The  children  of  Alice 
call  Bartrum  father.  We  are  nothing,  less  than 
nothing,  and  dreams.  We  are  only  what  might 
have  been,  and  must  wait  upon  the  tedious  shores 
of  Lethe  millions  of  ages  before  we  have  exist- 
ence and  a  name;"  and  immediately  awaking,  I 
found  myself  quietly  seated  in  my  bachelor  arm- 
chair, where  I  had  fallen  asleep,  with  the  faithful 
Bridget  unchanged  by  my  side. 


THE     RETURN     OF     COLUMBUS     AFTER     HIS 

FIRST  VOYAGE. 

BY   WILLIAM    H.    PRESCOTT. 

IN  the  spring  of  1493,  while  the  court  was  still 
at  Barcelona,  letters  were  received  from  Chris- 
topher Columbus,  announcing  his  return  to  Spain 
and  the  successful  achievement  of  his  great  enter- 
prise, by  the  discovery  of  land  beyond  the  west- 
ern ocean.  The  delight  and  astonishment,  raised 
by  this  intelligence,  were  proportioned  to  the 
skepticism  with  which  his  project  had  been 
originally  viewed.  The  sovereigns  were  now 
filled  with  a  natural  impatience  to  ascertain  the 
extent  and  other  particulars  of  the  important  dis- 
covery :  and  they  transmitted  instant  instructions 
to  the  admiral  to  repair  to  Barcelona,  as  soon  as 
he  should  have  made  the  preliminary  arrange- 
ments for  the  further  prosecution  of  his  enter- 
prise. 

The  great  navigator  had  succeeded,  as  is  well 
known,  after  a  voyage  the  natural  difficulties  of 
which  had  been  much  augmented  by  the  distrust 
and  mutinous  spirit  of  his  followers,  in  descrying 
laud  on  Friday,  the  12th  of  October,  1492.  After 
some  months  spent  in  exploring  the  delightful  re- 
gions, now  for  the  first  time  thrown  open  to  the 
eyes  of  a  European,  he  embarked  in  the  month 
of  January,  1493,  for  Spain.  One  of  his  vessels 
had  previously  foundered,  and  another  had  de- 
serted him  ;  so  that  he  was  left  alone  to  retrace 
his  course  across  the  Atlantic.  After  a  most 
tempestuous  voyage,  he  was  compelled  to  take 
shelter  in  theTagus,  sorely  against  his  inclination. 
He  experienced,  however,  the  most  honorable  re- 
ception from  the  Portuguese  monarch,  John  the 


Second,  who  did  ample  justice  to  the  great  quali- 
ties of  Columbus,  although  he  had  failed  to  profit 
by  them.  After  a  brief  delay,  the  admiral  re- 
sumed his  voyage,  and  crossing  the  bar  of  Saltes 
entered  the  harbor  of  Palos  about  noon,  on  the 
15th  of  March,  1493,  being  exactly  seven  months 
and  eleven  days  since  his  departure  from  that 
port. 

Great  was  the  agitation  in  the  little  community 
of  Palos,  as  they  beheld  the  well-known  vessel  of 
the  admiral  re-entering  their  harbor.  Their  de- 
sponding imaginations  had  long  since  consigned 
him  to  a  watery  grave;  for,  in  addition  to  the 
preternatural  horrors  which  hung  over  the  voy- 
age, they  had  experienced  the  most  stormy  and 
disastrous  winter  within  the  recollection  of  the 
oldest  mariners.  Most  of  them  had  relatives  or 
friends  on  board.  They  thronged  immediately 
to  the  shore,  to  assure  themselves  with  their  own 
eyes  of  the  truth  of  their  return.  When  they 
beheld  their  faces  once  more,  and  saw  them  ac- 
companied by  the  numerous  evidences  which 
they  brought  back  of  the  success  of  the  expedi- 
tion, they  burst  forth  in  acclamations  of  joy  and 
gratulation.  They  awaited  the  landing  of  Col- 
umbus, when  the  whole  population  of  the  place 
accompanied  him  and  his  crew  to  the  principal 
church,  where  solemn  thanksgivings  were  offered 
up  for  their  return  ;  while  every  bell  in  the  village 
sent  forth  a  joyous  peal  in  honor  of  the  glorious 
event.  The  admiral  was  too  desirous  of  present- 
ing himself  before  the  sovereigns,  to  protract  his 
stay  long  at  Palos.  He  took  with  him  on  his 
journey  specimens  of  the  multifarious  products  of 
the  newly  discovered  regions.  He  was  accom- 
panied by  several  of  the  native  islanders,  arrayed 
in  their  simple  barbaric  costume,  and  decorated, 
as  he  passed  through  the  principal  cities,  with 
collars,  bracelets,  and  other  ornaments  of  gold, 
rudely  fashioned  ;  he  exhibited  also  considerable 
quantities  of  the  same  metal  in  dust,  or  in  crude 
masses,  numerous  vegetable  exotics,  possessed  of 
aromatic  or  medicinal  virtue,  and  several  kinds  of 
quadrupeds  unknown  in  Europe,  and  birds,  whose 
variety  of  gaudy  plumage  gave  a  brilliant  effect 
to  the  pageant.  The  admiral's  progress  through 
the  country  was  everywhere  impeded  by  the  mul- 
titudes thronging  forth  to  gaze  at  the  extraordin- 
ary spectacle,  and  the  more  extraordinary  man, 
who,  in  the  emphatic  language  of  that  time, 
which  has  now  lost  its  force  from  its  familiarity. 


COLUMBUS   EXPLAINING    HIS    DISCOVERY   TO    FERDINAND. 


(495) 


49G     THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


first  revealed  the  existence  of  a  "New  World." 
As  he  passed  through  the  bus}-,  populous  city  of 
Seville,  every  window,  balcony,  and  housetop, 
which  could  afford  a  glimpse  of  him,  is  described 
to  have  been  crowded  with  spectators.  It  was 
the  middle  of  April  before  Columbus  reached 
Barcelona.  The  nobility  and  cavaliers  in  at- 
tendance on  the  court,  together  with  the  authori- 
ties of  the  city,  came  to  the  gates  to  receive  him, 
and  escorted  him  to  the  royal  presence.  Ferdinand 
and  Isabella  were  seated,  with  their  son,  Prince 
John,  under  a  superb  canopy  of  state,  awaiting 
his  arrival.  On  his  approach,  they  rose  from 
their  seats,  and  extending  their  hands  to  him  to 
salute,  caused  him  to  be  seated  before  them. 
These  were  unprecedented  marks  of  condescen- 
sion to  a  person  of  Columbus's  rank,  in  the 
haughty  and  ceremonious  court  of  Castile.  It 
was,  indeed,  the  proudest  moment  in  the  life  of 
Columbus.  He  had  fully  established  the  truth 
of  his  long-contested  theory,  in  the  face  of  argu- 
ment, sophistry,  sneer,  skepticism,  and  contempt. 
He  had  achieved  this,  not  by  chance,  but  by  cal- 
culation, supported  through  the  most  adverse  cir- 
cumstances by  consummate  conduct.  The  honors 
paid  him,  which  had  hitherto  been  reserved  only 
for  rank,  or  fortune,  or  military  success,  purchased 
by  the  blood  and  tears  of  thousands,  were,  in  his 
case,  a  homage  to  intellectual  power,  successfully 
exerted  in  behalf  of  the  noblest  interests  of 
humanity. 

After  a  brief  interval,  the  sovereigns  requested 
from  Columbus  a  recital  of  his  adventures.  His 
manner  was  sedate  and  dignified,  but  warmed  by 
the  glow  of  natural  enthusiasm.  He  enumerated 
the  several  islands  which  he  had  visited,  expati- 
ated on  the  temperate  character  of  the  climate,  and 
the  capacity  of  the  soil  for  even'  variety  of  agri- 
cultural production,  appealing  to  the  samples 
imported  by  him,  as  evidence  of  their  natural 
fruitfulness.  He  dwelt  more  at  large  on  the  pre- 
cious metals  to  be  found  in  these  islands,  which 
he  inferred,  less  from  the  specimens  actually  ob- 
tained, than  from  the  uniform  testimony  of  the 
natives  to  their  abundance  in  the  unexplored  re- 
gions of  the  interior.  Lastly,  he  pointed  out  the 
wide  scope  afforded  to  Christian  zeal,  in  the  illu- 
mination of  a  race  of  men,  whose  minds,  far  from 
being  wedded  to  any  system  of  idolatry,  were 
prepared  by  their  extreme  simplicity  for  the  re- 
ception of  pure  and  uncorrupted  doctrine.     The 


last  consideration  touched  Isabella's  heart  most 
sensibly  ;  and  the  whole  audience,  kindled  with 
various  emotions  by  the  speaker's  eloquence, 
filled  up  the  perspective  with  the  gorgeous  color- 
ing of  their  own  fancies,  as  ambition  or  avarice, 
or  devotional  feeling  predominated  in  their 
bosoms.  When  Columbus  ceased,  the  king  and 
queen,  together  with  all  present,  prostrated  them- 
selves on  their  knees  in  grateful  thanksgivings, 
while  the  solemn  strains  of  the  Te  Deum  were 
poured  forth  by  the  choir  of  the  royal  chapel,  as 
in  commemoration  of  some  glorious  victory. 


AN  HEROIC  PHYSICIAN. 

7  T  THEN  the  plague  raged  violently  at  Mar- 
KXJ  seilles,  every  link  of  affection  was  broken  ; 
the  father  turned  from  the  child — the  child  from 
the  father  ;  cowardice  and  ingratitude  no  longer 
excited  indignation.  Misery  is  at  its  height 
when  it  thus  destroys  every  generous  feeling— 
thus  dissolves  every  tie  of  humanity  !  The  city 
became  a  desert ;  the  grass  grew  in  the  streets  ;  a 
funeral  met  you  at  every  step  ! 

The  physicians  assembled  in  a  body  at  the  Ho- 
tel de  Yille,  to  hold  a  consultation  on  the  fearful 
disease,  for  which  no  remedy  had  yet  been  dis- 
covered. After  a  long  consultation,  they  decided 
unanimously,  that  the  malady  had  a  peculiar  and 
mysterious  character,  which  opening  a  corpse 
might  develop — an  operation  which  it  was  im- 
possible to  attempt,  since  the  operator  must  infal- 
libly become  a  victim,  in  a  few  hours,  beyond  the 
power  of  human  art  to  save  him,  as  the  violence 
of  the  attack  would  preclude  their  administering 
the  customary  remedies.  A  dead  pause  succeeded 
this  fatal  declaration.  Suddenly,  a  surgeon  by 
the  name  of  Guyon,  in  the  prime  of  life,  of  great 
celebrity  in  his  profession,  rose,  and  said  firmly, 
"Be  it  so  :  I  devote  myself  for  the  safety  of  the 
country.  Before  this  numerous  assembly,  I  prom- 
ise in  the  name  of  humanity  and  religion,  that  to- 
morrow, at  the  break  of  day,  I  will  dissect  a 
corpse,  and  write  down,  as  I  proceed,  what  I  ob- 
serve." 

He  left  the  assembly  instantly.  They  admired 
him,  lamented  his  fate,  and  doubted  whether  he 
would  persist  in  his  design.  The  intrepid  and 
pious  Guyon,  animated  by  all  the  sublime  energy 
that  religion  or  patriotism  can  inspire,  acted  up 
to  his  word.     He  had  married,  and  was  rich  ;  and 


FKSTIVITIHS    IN    HONOR    op   COI.n.lBtlS. 


498 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


he  iinmcu.ately  made  his  will,  dictated  by  justice 
and  piety. 

A  man  had  died  in  his  house  within  four-and- 
twenty  hours.  Guyon,  at  daybreak,  shut  himself 
up  in  the  same  room  ;  he  took  with  him  ink, 
paper,  and  a  little  crucifix.     Full  of  enthusiasm, 


my  native  city,  thou  wilt  enable  me  to  point  out 
some  salutary  remedy  ;  thou  wilt  render  my  sacri- 
fice useful.  O  God  !  "  continued  he,  "thou  wilt 
bless  the  action  thou  hast  thyself  inspired." 

He  began — he  finished  the  dreadful  operation, 
and  recorded  in  detail  his  surgical  observations. 


A   VENETIAN   SHIP  OF  WAR. 

never  had  he  felt  more  firm  or  collected.  Kneel- 
ing beside  the  corpse,  he  wrote — "Mouldering 
tenement  of  an  immortal  soul — not  only  can  I  gaze 
on  thee  without  terror,  but  even  with  joy  and 
gratitude.  Thou  wilt  open  to  me  the  gates  of  a 
glorious  eternity.  In  discovering  to  me  the  se- 
cret cause  of  the  terrible  plague  which  destroys 


He  then  left  the  room,  threw  the  papers  into  b 
vase  of  vinegar,  and  immediately  sought  the  Laz- 
aretto, where  he  died  in  twelve  hours — a  death 
ten  times  more  glorious  than  the  warrior  who  to 
save  his  country,  rushes  on  the  enemy's  ranks, 
since  he  advances  with  hope,  at  least,  and  sus- 
tained, admired,  and  seconded  by  a  whole  annjs 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S  HISTORY. 


4ys 


Physicians  who  remain  firm  in  the  discharge 
of  their  duties,  while  the  fears  of  their  fellow-citi- 
zens are  prompting  them  to  fly  from  contagion, 
display  that  moral  courage  which  is  as  far  superior 
to  the  physical  energy  which  sustains  the  soldier 
in  battle,  as  the  mind  is  superior  to  matter 


MOHAMMED  AND  THE  CANNON-FOUNDER. 

ONE  Orban,  an  Hungarian  metal-founder,  hav- 
ing passed  over  from  the  emperor's  into  the 
sultan's  service,  received  so  many  gifts  and  such 
a  liberal  appointment  from  his  new  master,  that 
had  he  been  offered  but  a 
fourth  part  as  much  by  the 
Greek  ministry,  he  would 
never  have  dreamed  of  quit- 
ting the  imperial  city.  Mo- 
hammed inquired  of  him 
whether  he  could  cast  a  can- 
non capable  of  crumbling 
the  walls  of  Constantinople  ? 
"It  is  in  my  power,"  re- 
plied the  Hungarian,  "  to 
cast  a  cannon  of  any  calibre 
that  is  desired,  and  grind 
the  walls  of  Constantinople 
and  Babylon  into  powder  ;  I 
will  answer  for  my  science 
extending  thus  far,  but  I  can- 
not pronounce  to  what  extent 
the  shot  will  range."  The 
sultan  gave  him  directions 
to  proceed  with  the  casting, 
but  not  to  trouble  himself 
about  the  range  of  the  shot, 
which  should  be  subse- 
quently determined.  As  a 
specimen  of  his  skill,  Orban  cast  a  cannon  for 
the  great  tower  on  the  Bosphorean  Channel,  and 
a  trial  of  its  range  was  made  upon  the  first  vessel 
which  sailed  past  without  hauling  in  her  sails.  A 
Venetian  ship,  commanded  by  one  Rici,  was 
made  use  of  as  a  target,  and  afforded  satisfactory 
evidence  of  the  perfectness  of  the  casting,  as  well 
as  the  range  of  the  shot.  It  was  struck,  severed 
asunder,  and  sunk.  The  captain  and  thirty  cf  his 
crew  escaped  the  dangers  of  the  turbulent  current 
in  a  boat,  but,  on  reaching  the  shore,  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  Turkish  garrison.  They  were 
loaded  with  fetters,  and  brought  before  the 
sultan  at  Didymotichon ;  by  his  orders  the  sailors 


were  beheaded,  the  captain  impaled,  and  theii 
dead  bodies  exposed  to  rot  in  the  open  air.  This 
barbarous  scene  was  witnessed  by  Ducas,  the  his- 
torian, who  was  a  resident  at  Didymotichon  at 
that  period. 

Mohammed  was  so  perfectly  satisfied  with  the 
founder's  skill,  and  the  result  of  the  trial,  that  he 
directed  the  construction  of  a  prodigious  battering 
piece,  twice  as  large  as  the  first ;  in  fact,  the 
largest  which  is  recorded  in  the  annals  of  the 
"  tormentorum  bellicorum."  It  vomited  stone 
balls  twelve  spans  in  circumference  and  twelve 


ASSAULT  ON   THE  WALLS  OF    CONSTANTINOPLE. 

hundred  pounds  in  weight ;  was  moved  with 
great  difficulty  by  fifty  pair  of  oxen,  and  was 
committed  to  the  manipulation  of  seven  hundred 
men. 

When  the  casting  was  completed,  the  piece  was 
transported  to  the  gate  of  the  palace  Dechthan- 
numa  (or  the  spectacle  of  the  world),  a  lofty  pile 
which  had  just  been  finished  at  Adrianople  ;  and 
on  this  spot  it  was,  for  the  first  time,  loaded  with 
infinite  trouble. 

Notice  was  then  given  to  the  inhabitants,  that  it 
would  be  discharged  the  next  morning ;  it  was 
feared  that  without  such  a  warning,  the  terror 
occasioned  by  its  report  might  have  been  attended 


500 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


with  the  most  disastrous  consequences.  The 
morning  dawned,  the  pie;e  was  fired  off,  an  im- 
mense cloud  of  smoke  enveloped  the  whole  city, 
its  thunders  were  heard  for  several  miles  in  the 
distance,  and  the  shot  buried  itself  a  fathom  deep 
in  the  ground,  at  a  distance  of  a  mile  from  the 
spot  whence  it  was  discharged.  By  the  trepida- 
tion which  it  spread  far  and  wide,  this  enormous 
masterpiece  of  pyroteehny  at  least  bespoke  the 
gigantic  schemes  of  conquest  on  which  the  grasp- 
ing mind  of  its  owner  was  intent. 

This  cannon ,  together  with  two  smaller  pieces, 
wLich    discharged  balls  of  160  pounds  weight, 


without  producim 
ticipated  from  it. 
Turks. 


the  effects  which  had  been  an  - 
—  Von  Hammer  s  History  of  tlu 


JL 

tar ^  r. 


ANCIENT  signal   STATION. — (Copy  of  an  engraving  of 
the  fifteenth  century.) 

was  subsequently  employed  at  the  siege  of  Con- 
stantinople, where  it  was  stationed  opposite  the 
gate  of  St.  Roman's,  which  was  afterwards  de- 
nominated the  "  Cannongate,'"'  a  name  it  has  re- 
tained to  the  present  day.  It  consumed  two 
hours  in  loading,  and,  on  the  first  day,  was  dis- 
charged seven  times,  the  eighth  firing  was  on  the 
second  day,  when  it  gave  the  signal  for  an  at- 
tack. Though  ;t  afterwards  bursted,  and  de- 
stroyed its  founder,  it  was  speedily  repaired  and 
oontinued    to    be   used  seven   times   a   day,  but 


ANCIENT  STORM  SIGNALS. 

IT  is  most  curious  to  find,  that  a  contrivance 
similar  to  the  lightning-rod,  which  so  many 
men  of  genius,  learning,  and  ingenuity  have  been 
at  the  pains  to  complete,  was  known  and  em- 
ployed by  a  people  of  no  more  refined  cultivation 
than  the  wild  peasantry  of  Lornbardy.  The  Abbe 
Berthollet,  in  his  work  on  the  Electricity  of  Me- 
teors, describes  a  practice  used  in  one  of  the  bas- 
tions of  the  Castle  of  Duino,  on  the  shores  of  the 
Adriatic,  which  has  existed  from  time  immemo- 
rial, and  which  is  literally  neither  more  nor  less 
than  the  process  that  enabled  Franklin  to  bring 
down  lightning  from  the  clouds.  An  iron  staff, 
it  seems,  was  erected  on  the  bastion  of  this  castle 
during  the  summer,  and  it  was  part  of  the  duty 
of  the  sentinel,  whenever  a  storm  threatened,  to 
raise  an  iron-pointed  halberd  towards  this  staff. 
If,  upon  the  approach  of  the  halberd,  sparks  were 
emitted,  (which,  to  the  scientific  mind,  would 
show  that  the  staff  was  charged  with  electricity 
from  a  thunder-cloud,)  then  the  sentinel  made 
sure  that  a  storm  impended,  and  he  tolled  a  bel] 
which  sent  forth  the  tidings  of  danger  to  the  sur- 
rounding country.  Nothing  can  be  more  delight- 
fully amiable  than  the  paternal  care  of  its  subjects 
which  this  interesting  provision  of  the  local  gov- 
ernment exemplified.  The  admonishing  sound 
of  the  bell  was  obeyed  like  a  preternatural  signal 
from  the  depths  of  the  firmament ;  shepherds 
were  seen  hurrying  over  the  valleys,  urging  their 
flocks  from  the  exposed  fields  to  places  of  shelter. 
The  fishing-boats,  with  which  the  coast  of  the 
Adriatic  was  generally  studded,  forthwith  began 
to  crowd  sail  and  make  for  the  nearest  port,  while 
manj'  a  supplication  was  put  up  from  many  a 
gentle  and  devout  heart  on  shore,  before  some 
hallowed  shrine,  for  the  safety  of  the  little  fleet. 


PRESIDENT  JACKSON'S  VISIT  TO  NEW  YORK. 

'  OON  after  President  Jackson's  election  to  his 
second  term,  he  made  a  visit  to  New  York, 
where  he  was  received  with  enthusiastic  demon- 
strations of  popular  favor.  An  accomplished 
English  gentleman,  who  was  in  New  York  at  the 
time,  wrote' a  graphic  description  of  the  scenes  that 
he  witnessed,  to  a  friend  at  home,  and  as  many  of 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S  HISTORY. 


501 


the  incidents  possess  a  large  degree  of  historical 
interest,  we  copy  the  article  in  full  : 

At  present  the  city  is  all  in  commotion.  It  is 
quite  an  era,  and  a  very  interesting  one,  in  the 
history  of  the  town,  from  the  fact,  that  the  vener- 
able President  of  the  Republic  is  now,  for  the  first 
time  in  many  years,  a  visitor.  He  is  a  man  of 
extraordinary  character,  and,  from  his  earliest 
boyhood,  has  continually  grown  in  popularity. 
You  have  heard  me  before  speak  of  General  Jack- 
son, the  famous  hero  of  New  Orleans — a  military 
chieftain — a  soldier  of  courage  and  genius,  and 
unrivalled  firmness  and  decision — a  statesman, 
prompt,  fearless,  and  energetic.  His  coming  to 
New  York  has  been  for  some  time  a  topic  of  news- 
paper comment  and  congratulation,  and  of  draw- 
ing-room as  well  as  tavern  discussion.  There  is 
not,  probably,  living,  a  man  so  popular  as  this 
aged  chief;  his  name  is  in  everybody's  mouth; 
his  pictures,  busts,  etc.,  have,  for  many  years, 
crowded  the  streets  and  print  shops,  windows, 
parlors,  libraries,  barber-shops,  taverns,  etc.,  etc., 
etc.,  and,  on  certain  public  occasions,  he  has  been 
from  time  immemorial,  to  the  rising  generation, 
represented  in  the  evening  on  an  illuminated  trans- 
parency, with  one  warlike  hand  resting  on  his  un- 
sheathed blade — a  tremendous  affair,  by  the  way, 
which  might  have  tested  the  strength  of  Sir  Will- 
iam Wallace — and  the  other  leaning  on  the  flow- 
ing mane  of  a  steed  of  superb  outlines  and  dimen- 
sions, and  so  mettlesome,  that  we  fancy  the  youth- 
ful Alexander  would  not  have  been  as  ready  to 
back  him  as  he  was  to  mount  Bucephalus. 

I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  the  President  has 
been  universally  popular — no,  no  ;  that  would  be 
a  sad  deviation  from  the  custom  of  republics. 
There  has  been  against  him,  as  against  all  others, 
a  party,  whose  opposition  has  probably  rendered 
the  acclamations  of  his  adherents  more  loud  and 
apparent.  Their  watchword  is,  "Hurrah  for 
Jackson  ! ' '  There  is  not  a  little  curly-pated  imp 
of  three  years  old,  but  will  fling  up  his  tattered 
hat  and  cry  out,  ' '  Hurrah  for  Jackson  ! ' '  For 
years  and  years  this  has  been  the  state  of  the  city 
in  reference  to  their  present  President ;  and  many 
measures  of  his  administration  have  tended  to 
overflow  the  cup  of  his  popularity,  already  full. 
The  fact  that,  under  his  direction,  a  dangerous 
question,  which  threatened  a  dissolution  of  the 
Union,  has  been  amicably  settled,  has  elevated 
the  general  enthusiasm  and  curiosity  beyond  all 


bounds.  Besides  this,  a  recent  personal  insult, 
offered  him  by  a  crazy  naval  officer,  has  shocked 
the  whole  country,  and  all,  friends  and  foes,  ap- 
pear anxious  to  make  every  possible  reparation  to 
him,  whose  gray  hairs  might  have  still  protected 
him  from  actual  assault,  if  no  respect  was  felt  for 
the  dignity  of  the  office  and  the  services  of  the 
man.  Hence  you  may  judge,  that  on  the  day  of 
his  expected  arrival,  the  streets  presented  a  curious 
spectacle.  There  are  more  than  two  hundred 
thousand  inhabitants  in  New  York,  and,  I  do 
believe,  the  greater  part  of  them  thronged  toward 
the  place  where  the  celebrated  soldier  and  vener- 
able statesman  was  expected  to  land.  The  scene 
was  imposing,  grand,  and  sublime.  It  will  prob- 
ably live  on  the  page  of  history,  as  one  of  the 
most  impressive  and  romantic  events  of  the 
times. 

Fancy,  my  dear  B.,  a  proud,  great  city — lofty 
houses — trees — fences — all  swarming  with  multi- 
tudes, all  anxious  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  hero  as 
he  passed  from  the  superb  shore.  On  landing,  he 
was  received  by  Major  General  Morton,  at  the 
head  of  his  column,  a  gentleman  of  the  old  school, 
to  whom  I  had  letters  from  you,  and  with  whose 
acquaintance  I  am  greatly  pleased.  He  addressed 
the  President  in  an  appropriate,  concise,  and 
pointed  speech,  and  the  line  of  march  was  taken 
up  through  the  city.  The  distinguished  visitor 
rode  through  the  most  magnificent  street  on  this 
continent  to  his  hotel. 

The  Battery,  a  large  area,  was  a  living  mass  of 
human  beings  ;  troops,  horse  and  foot,  and  thou- 
sands and  thousands  of  citizens  ;  the  bay  covered 
with  steamboats  and  other  vessels  ;  flags  floating ; 
cannon  roaring  ;  music  swelling  on  the  winds ; 
bursts  from  the  trumpet  that  made  the  pulses 
wild,  and,  over  the  whole,  the  cheers  and  loud 
acclamations  of  the  crowd.  I  was  well  accommo- 
dated with  a  seat  at  the  hotel,  which  is  situated 
(or,  as  the  Americans  say,  "located")  in  the 
widest  part  of  the  street,  and  where  the  throng, 
carriages,  carts,  stages,  gigs,  horses,  and  fool-pas' 
sengers  amounted  to  suffocation,  and  furnished, 
certainly,  one  of  the  most  impressive  sights  that 
I  ever  beheld.  The  wide  street  through  which, 
for  hours,  the  tide  of  human  beings  had  been 
rushing  steadily  with  the  heavy  sound  and  motion 
of  a  strong  current,  was  at  length  filled  and 
dammed  up  completely,  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach.  Windows,  up  to  the  fourth  story  ;  nay,  the 


502 


THE  WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND  THE 


very  house-tops,  and  the  roofs  of  the  churches 
and  all  public  buildings  were  crowded.  They 
were  well-behaved  folks,  and  waited  patiently  till 
a  troop  of  horse  rode  through  the  vast,  dense  as- 
sembly, in  order  to  make  way  for  the  principal 
object  of  interest,  whose  arrival  had  ahead}-  been 
announced  by  the  cannon.  The  trumpeter  blew 
his  blast,  long  and  loud  ;  the  hoofs  of  the  horses 
rattled  over  the  stones  ;  a  passage  was  at  length 
cleared,  only  wide  enough  for  two  or  three  horse- 
men abreast.  The  President  had  been  much 
abused  ;  his  face,  form,  and  health  had  been  cari- 
catured and  misrepresented.  He  had  been  termed 
a  feeble,  sickly,  dying  old  man,  and  by  some  an 
"old  woman,"  suffering  under  the  weakness  of 
age  and  imbecility,  and  incapable  of  acting  for 
himself.  The  excitement  at  this  moment  was 
really  intense,  and  it  was  not  allayed  by  a  rumor 
which  flew  from  lip  to  lip,  that,  in  crossing  from 
a  fort  a  little  out  in  the  bay  to  the  main  land,  the 
bridge  had  given  way,  and  also  a  covered  arch, 
bearing  scores  of  people,  a  single  moment  after 
the  President  had  passed  from  beneath  it.  All 
the  great  men  in  company  with  him  had  been  pre- 
cipitated, with  numbers  of  others,  into  the  water 
— and  in  the  confusion  of  the  moment,  it  was  said 
that  many  were  dangerously  wounded,  that  some 
were  killed,  and  that  the  escape  of  the  President 
was  miraculous.  Presently  my  ears  were  stunned 
with  the  burst  of  voices  which  announced  that 
the  crowd  had  caught  sight  of  him.  The  waving 
of  hats  and  handkerchiefs  grew  nearer,  till  amid 
the  thousands  beneath  me  that  rocked  and  heaved 
like  a  tumultuous  sea,  I  saw  a  group  of  officers 
richly  dressed,  and  among  them,  and  distinguished 
by  the  simplicity  of  his  attire — by  his  tall  com- 
manding form  and  dignified  demeanor — his  bare 
venerable  head  and  calm  expression  of  face,  I 
saw  the  President  himself  mounted — reining  his 
horse  with  the  air  of  an  accomplished  rider,  and 
waving  his  hat  continually,  and  bowing  to  the 
thousands  and  thousands  who,  above,  below,  and 
all  around,  were  greeting  his  course  with  thunder- 
ing cheers.  Do  you  not  remember  a  passage  in 
Shakespeare  exactly  applicable  to  this  ? 
Mounted  upon  a  hot  and  fiery  steed, 
Which  his  aspiring  rider  seem'd  to  know, 
With  slow  but  stately  pace  kept  on  his  course  : 
You  would  have  thought  the  very  windows  spake, 
So  many  greedy  looks  of  young  and  old 
Through  casements  darted  their  desiring  eyes 
Opou  "lis  visage  ;  and  that  all  the  walls, 


With  painted  imagery,  had  said  at  once, 
"Jesu  preserve  thee  !  Welcome,  Bolingbroke  !  " 
Whilst  he,  from  one  side  to  the  other  turning, 
Bareheaded,  lower  than  his  proud  steed's  neck, 
Bespake  them  thus  : — "I  thank  you,  countrymen ;  " 
And  thus,  still  doing,  thus  he  pass'd  along. 
There  was,  really,  in  this  sight  a  good  deal  of 
the  moral  sublime.     Cincinnatus  from  his  plough 
would  scarcely  appear  more  unassuming  than  this 
great  man  in  his  plain  black  dress. 

The  city  is  all  in  excitement  on  this,  as  well  as 
on  one  or  two  other  subjects.  A  balloon  has  gone 
up — and  an  Indian  chief  with  his  son,  and  a 
prophet  of  the  tribe  which  have  been  recently 
conquered  by  the  government,  are  also  in  town. 
The  vice-president,  Mr.  Van  Buren,  is  also  a 
sojourner— and  some  of  the  secretaries  of  the  de- 
partments— and  yesterday  I  ran  against  a  gentle- 
man, whom,  upon  a  nearer  view,  I  recognized  as 
Washington  Irving — and  the  deuse  knows  what 
else  there  is  to  ferment  the  population.  What 
did  old  mother  Trollope  mean  by  saying  that  the 
Americans  had  no  enthusiasm  ?  Why,  they  are 
tinder.  They  burn  spontaneously.  Eight  or  ten 
thousand  of  them  assembled  yesterday  on  the 
Battery  to  see  a  balloon  ascend.  I  am  a  great 
friend  to  balloons  ;  they  are  so  elegant,  and  airy, 
and  careless,  like  a  fine  gentleman,  or  a  poet,  or  a 
belle,  or  a  butterfly.  They  tell  odd  things  of 
those  inflated  machines,  too.  You  have  heard 
of  the  aeronaut  who  ascended  with  his  dog.  The 
parachute  was  overturned  at  an  indefinite  height, 
and  both  were  precipitated  (that  is  scarcely  the 
word — overset)  into  the  air.  The  man  fell,  was 
whirled  about  for  a  long  time  by  the  conflicting 
currents  of  wind,  and  after  having  been  aban- 
doned to  his  fate  for  three  or  four  hours,  he  heard 
his  little  dog  somewhere  near  him  barking  in  the 
air  !  If  I  had  not  seen  this  story  actually  printed, 
I  should  scarcely  believe  it.  The  New  York  man 
is  a  bold  fellow  ;  he  goes  up  really  in  magnificent 
style.  The  inflation  takes  place  in  a  fort  (now 
converted  into  a  public  ice-cream  garden),  on  the 
shore  of  the  bay.  The  place  itself  is  generally 
filled,  and  also  the  surrounding  stream,  walks, 
streets,  etc.,  with  boats,  pedestrians,  carriages, 
and  all  the  et  casteras.  Imagine  a  delicious,  sun- 
shiny afternoon  ;  a  soft  Italian  air  ;  a  heaven  with 
scarcely  a  cloud,  all  blue  and  transparent ;  the 
thronging  thousands  waiting  around.  At  length 
a  little  balloon — a  pioneer — ascends,  and  is  borne 
off  rapidly  by  the  light  breeze,  till  it  is  lost  in  the 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S  HISTORY. 


503 


sky.  Presently  the  huge  globe  of  brown  silk 
looms  up  above  the  edges  of  the  wall  with  a  beau- 
tiful motion  ;  swinging,  floating,  and  displaying 
all  the  aspiring  impulses  of  an  eagle  eager  for  the 
flight,  and  scarcely  retainable  on  earth. 

The  arrangements  within  are  at  length  com- 
pleted. The  huge  mass  rises  slowly,  clear  and 
free  into  the  air.  The  car,  with  its  adventurous 
pilot,  is  greeted  with  multitudinous  cheers,  and 
off  they  float  upward  and  away  upon  the  gale — 
flags  waving,  huzzas  mingling,  cannon  firing, 
horses  prancing,  and  the  lonely  vessel  smoothly 
gliding  into  the  blue  and  high  distance  till  it 
fades  to  a  speck.  Among  the  spectators  of  this 
scene  were  Black  Hawk  and  his  party.  These 
Indians  are  great  curiosities  to  me.  Nothing 
makes  me  more  strikingly  realize  that  I  am  in 
America — that  a  broad  ocean  rolls  between  you 
and  me.  The  savages  who  infest  the  frontiers  of 
the  republic  have  no  idea  that  the  whites  com- 
prise more  than  a  handful  of  men,  and  fancy  they 
may  be  conquered  by  perseverance.  Several  of 
them  were  conducted  on  a  tour  through  the  coun- 
try some  years  since,  and  of  course  were  astonished. 
On  going  back  to  their  people,  they  detailed  the 
wonders  they  had  seen ;  but  such  monstrous 
stories  gained  no  credit ;  they  were  for  some  time 
the  objects  of  ridicule  and  persecution,  till  at 
length,  in  self-defence,  they  recanted.  It  is  the 
desire  of  the  government  that  the  present  chief 
may  see  and  judge  for  himself  of  the  extent  of 
the  people  with  whom  they  presume  to  war. 

The  president  was  also  on  the  ground  at  the 
hour  for  the  ascension  of  the  balloon.  He  was, 
as  before,  ever  greeted  with  acclamations,  and 
continues  to  be  the  victim  of  reports.  One  paper 
says,  ' '  A  story  has  become  very  current,  that 
President  Jackson  intends  uniting  himself  to  a 
Very  amiable  and  accomplished  lady  in  Connecti- 
cut, and  that  the  nuptials  are  to  be  celebrated 
during  his  present  visit.  We  presume  the  story, 
like  many  similar  reports,  is  without  the  least 
foundation  in  truth."  Another  announces,  that 
"among  other  tokens  of  respect  which  will  be 
shown  to  the  president  and  vice-president,  about 
five  thousand  of  the  fairest  of  the  fair,  unmarried, 
and  young,  elegantly  dressed  in  white,  will  join 
in  a  procession  to  meet  and  greet  them  on  their 
arrival  in  Lowell,  in  the  state  of  Massachusetts." 

Here   is   a   specimen  of  the   enthusiasm   with 


which  his  words  are  observed  and  reported,  from 
one  of  the  newspapers  : 

' '  When  the  president  appeared  on  the  balcony 
of  the  City  Hall,  and  witnessed  the  countless- 
multitudes  of  well-dressed,  orderly  citizens,  who 
had  assembled  to  do  honor  to  the  first  magistrate 
of  the  republic,  and  to  testify  the  reverence  and 
affection  so  well  due  to  the  public  services  and 
individual  character  of  the  incumbent — when  he 
heard  the  long  rolling  thunders  of  their  enthusi- 
astic cheering,  he  felt  that  it  was  to  their  noble 
and  happy  institutions  that  this  people  were  doing 
honor,  and  were  thus  giving  the  most  sincere  of 
all  pledges  of  their  endearing  attacnment  to,  and 
worthiness  of,  such  high  advantages.  His  for- 
getfulness  of  self,  and  his  singleness  of  devotion 
to  the  common  weal,  were  never  more  strikingly- 
displayed  than  in  the  half  unconscious  remark 
which  fell  from  his  lips,  as  the  magnificent  scene 
presented  itself  before  him.  Turning  to  Gover- 
nor Marcy,  with  a  quivering  lip,  but  a  brighten- 
ing eye,  he  said,  '  Nullification  will  never  take 
root  here  ! '  Even  at  that  moment,  the  proudest 
and  dearest  to  himself  in  all  his  lifetime,  he  could 
think  only  of  his  country  and  its  welfare." 

As  for  myself,  I  have  witnessed  the  entrance 
into  cities  of  victorious  generals  and  the  corona- 
tions of  kings,  but  I  never  saw  a  sight  presenting 
such  a  striking  example  of  the  moral  sublime,  as 
the  entrance  into  New  York  of  that  tall  old  man, 
in  simple  attire,  with  his  gray,  uncovered  head, 
bending  to  the  salutations  of  his  countrymen. 


NAPOLEON'S  PERSONAL  PECULIARITIES. 

CHE  person  of  Napoleon  has  served  as  a  model 
for  the  most  skilful  painters  and  sculptors  ; 
many  able  French  artists  have  successfully  de- 
lineated his  features,  and  yet  it  may  be  said,  that 
no  perfectly  faithful  portrait  of  him  exists.  His 
finely  shaped  head,  his  superb  forehead,  his  pale 
countenance,  and  his  usual  meditative  look,  have 
been  transferred  to  the  canvas  ;  but  the  versatil- 
ity of  his  expression  was  beyond  the  reach  of 
imitation.  All  the  various  workings  of  his  mind 
were  instantaneously  depicted  in  his  countenance  ; 
and  his  glance  changed  from  mild  to  severe,  and 
from  anger  to  good  humor,  almost  with  the 
rapidity  of  lightning.  It  may  truly  be  said,  that 
he  had  a  particular  look  for  every  thoaght  that 
arose    in    his    mind.     Bonaparte   had    beautiful 


504 


THE    WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


hands,  and  he  was  very  proud  of  them  ;  while 
conversing  he  would  often  look  at  them  with  an 
air  of  self-complacency.  He  also  fancied  he  had 
fine  teeth,  but  his  pretension  to  that  advantage 


and  crossing  his  hands  behind  his  back.  He 
frequently  gave  an  involuntary  shrug  of  his  right 
shoulder,  which  was  accompanied  by  a  move- 
ment of  his  mouth  from  left  to  right.    This  habit 


THK   EMPRESS   CATHARINE. 


was  not  so  well  founded  as  his  vanity  on  the  score 
of  his  hands.  When  walking,  either  alone  or  in 
company  with  any  one,  in  his  apartments  or  in 
his  gardens,  he  had  the  habit  of  stooping  a  little, 


was  always  most  remarkable  when  his  mind  was 
absorbed  in  the  consideration  of  any  profound 
subject.  It  was  often  while  walking  that  he  dic- 
tated to  me  his  most  important  notes.     He  could 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


505 


endure  great  fatigue,  not  only  on  horseback,  but 
on  foot :  he  would  sometimes  walk  for  five  or  six 
hours  in  succession,  without  being  aware  of  it. 
When  walking  with  any  person  whom  he  treated 
with  familiarity,  he  would  link  his  arm  into  that 
of  his  compan- 
ion, and  lean 
on  it.  When 
excited,  all  his 
actions  were 
nervous  and 
decisive.  The 
incident  of  the 
Empress  Ca- 
tharine's 
broken  set  of 
porcelain  af- 
fords a  familiar 
illustration.  In 
October,  1797, 
at  the  close  of 
his  brilliant 
campaign  in 
Italy,  Napo- 
leon was  anx- 
ious for  peace ; 
but  the  Aus- 
trian commis- 
sioner, Cobent- 
zel,  hesitated. 
There  were 
certain  condi- 
tions which  he 
wanted  ratified, 
and  others  that 
Napoleon  had 
demanded  he 
thought  his 
government 
would  not  ac- 
cede to,  espe- 
cially the  re- 
lease of  Lafay- 
ette, who  was 
then  a  prisoner 
in  a  damp  and 
foul  dungeon  in 
the  citadel  of  Olmutz,  where  he  had  suffered  from 
disease  and  close  confinement  until  his  hair  had 
fallen  out.  Napoleon  listened  to  the  drivel  of  the 
Austrian  commissioner  with  increasing  restless- 


ness, until  finally  his  impatience  overcame  him  ; 
when,  rising  suddenly,  and  without  speaking,  he 
lifted  from  a  table  standing  near,  a  set  of  porcelain 
that  the  Empress  Catharine  had  formerly  given  to 
Cobentzel.     Raising  it  in  his  nervous  grasp,  he 


NAPOLEON    AND   THE  SET   OF    PORCELAIN. 


exclaimed  in  a  voice  of  thunder,  "The  truce  is 
then  broken,  and  war  declared ;  but  remember 
that  before  the  end  of  autumn  I  shall  have  crushed 
your  monarchy  like  this  porcelain,"  whereupon 


506 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


he  dashed  the  precious  set  upon  the  floor,  break- 
ing it  into  a  thousand  fragments,  and  strode  an- 
grily from  the  room.  A  few  minutes  later  he  had 
mounted  his  horse  and  ridden  rapidly  to  his  head- 
quarters, where  he  immediately  issued  orders  for 
the  renewal  of  hostilities. 

The  incident  was  too  much  for  the  resolution 
of  Cobentzel ;  he  was  seized  with  fear  and  gave 
way;  and  the  next  day  Napoleon's  ultimatum 
was  accepted  and  the  treaty  of  peace  signed. — 
Bourrienne's  Memoirs. 


ORIGIN  OF  THE  FORGET-ME-NOT. 

mILLS,  in  his  work  upon  chivalry,  mentions, 
that  the  beautiful  little  flower  called 
"  Forget-me-not "  was  known  in  England  as  early 
as  the  time  of  Edward  IV  ;  and,  in  a  note,  he 
gives  the  following  pretty  incident  in  explanation 
of  the  name  :  "Two  lovers  were  loitering  on  the 
margin  of  a  lake,  on  a  fine  summer's  evening, 
when  the  lady  discovered  some  flowers  of  the 
Afyosotis  growing  on  the  water,  close  to  the  bank 
of  an  island,  at  some  distance  from  the  shore. 
She  expressed  a  desire  to  possess  them,  when  her 
knight,  in  the  true  spirit  of  chivalry,  plunged 
into  the  water,  and  swimming  to  the  spot,  cropped 
the  wished-for  plant ;  but  his  strength  was  unable 
to  fulfil  the  object  of  his  achievement,  and  feel- 
ing that  he  could  not  regain  the  shore,  although 
very  near  it,  he  threw  the  flowers  upon  the  bank, 
and  casting  a  last  affectionate  look  upon  his  lady- 
love, he  said,  '  Forget  me  not,'  and  was  buried 
in  the  water." 


FULTON  AND  THE  FIRST  STEAMBOAT. 

U  7ITHEN,"  said  Mr.  Fulton,  "I  was  build- 
\XJ  ing  my  first  steamboat  at  New  York, 
the  project  was  viewed  by  the  public  either  with 
indifference  or  contempt,  as  a  visionary  scheme. 
My  friends,  indeed,  were  civil,  but  they  were  shy. 
The}-  listened  with  patience  to  my  explanations, 
but  with  a  settled  cast  of  incredulity  on  their 
countenances.  I  felt  the  full  force  of  the  lamen- 
tation of  the  poet, 

'Truths  would  you  teach,  to  save  a  sinking  land, 
All  fear,  none  aid  you,  and  few  understand.' 

As  I  had  occasion  to  pass  daily  to  and  from  the 
building  yard,  while  ray  boat  was  in  progress,  I 
have  often  loitered  unknown  near  the  idle  groups 
of  strangers,  gathering  in  little  circles,  and  heard 
various  inquiries  as  to  the  object  of  this  new  vehi- 


cle. The  language  was  uniformly  that  of  scorn, 
or  sneer,  or  ridicule.  The  loud  laugh  often  rose 
at  my  expense  ;  the  dry  jest ;  the  wise  calculation 
of  the  Fulton  folly.  Never  did  a  single  encour- 
aging remark,  a  bright  hope,  or  a  warm  wish 
cross  my  path.  Silence  itself  was  but  politeness 
veiling  its  doubts,  or  hiding  its  reproaches.  At 
length  the  day  arrived  when  the  experiment  was 
to  be  put  into  operation.  To  me  it  was  a  most 
trying  and  interesting  occasion.  I  invited  many 
friends  to  go  on  board  to  witness  the  first  success- 
ful trip.  Many  of  them  did  me  the  favor  to  at- 
tend, as  a  matter  of  personal  respect ;  but  it  was 
manifest  that  they  did  it  with  reluctance,  fearing 
to  be  the  partners  of  my  mortification,  and  not  of 
my  triumph.  I  was  well  aware,  that  in  my  case 
there  were  many  reasons  to  doubt  of  my  own 
success.  The  machinery  was  new  and  ill-made ; 
many  parts  of  it  were  constructed  by  mechanics 
unaccustomed  to  such  work ;  and  unexpected 
difficulties  might  reasonably  be  presumed  to  pre- 
sent themselves  from  other  causes.  The  moment 
arrived  in  which  the  word  was  to  be  given  for  the 
vessel  to  move.  My  friends  were  in  groups  on 
the  deck.  There  was  anxiety,  mixed  with  fear, 
among  them.  They  were  silent,  and  sad,  and 
weary.  I  read  in  their  looks  nothing  but  disas- 
ter, and  almost  repented  of  my  efforts.  The 
signal  was  given,  the  boat  moved  a  small  dis- 
tance and  stopped,  and  became  immovable.  To 
the  silence  of  the  preceding  moment,  now  suc- 
ceeded murmurs  of  discontent,  and  agitations, 
and  whispers,  and  shrugs.  I  could  hear  distinctly 
repeated,  '  I  told  you  it  would  be  so — it  is  a  fool- 
ish scheme — I  wish  we  were  well  out  of  it. '  I 
elevated  myself  upon  a  platform,  and  addressed 
the  assembly.  I  stated  that  I  knew  not  what 
was  the  matter  ;  but  if  they  would  be  quiet,  and 
indulge  me  for  half  an  hour,  I  would  either  go 
on,  or  abandon  the  voyage  for  that  time.  This 
short  respite  was  conceded  without  objection.  I 
went  below,  examined  the  machinery,  and  dis- 
covered that  the  cause  was  a  slight  misadjustment 
of  some  of  the  work.  In  a  short  period  it  was 
obviated.  The  boat  was  put  again  in  motion. 
She  continued  to  move  on.  All  were  still  incredu- 
lous. None  seemed  willing  to  trust  the  evidence 
of  their  own  senses.  We  left  the  fair  city  of  New 
York  ;  we  passed  through  the  romantic  and  ever- 
varying  scenery  of  the  Highlands  ;  we  descried 
the  clustering  houses  of  Albany,  we  reached  its 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


507 


shores;  and  then,  even  then,  when  all  seemed 
achieved,  I  was  the  victim  of  disappointment. 
Imagination  superseded  the  influence  of  fact.  It 
was  then  doubted  if  it  could  be  done  again,  it  was 
doubted  if  it  could  be  made  of  any  great  value." 
Such  was  the  history  of  the  first  experiment,  as 
it  fell,  not  in  the  very  language  which  I  have 
used,  but  in  its  substance,  from  the  lips  of  the 
inventor.  He  did  not  live,  indeed,  to  enjoy  the 
full  glory  of  his  invention.  It  is  mournful  to  say 
that  attempts  were  made  to  rob  him  in  the  first 
place  of  the  merits  of  his  invention,  and  next  of 
its  fruits.  He  fell  a  victim  to  his  efforts  to  sus- 
tain his  title  to  both.  When  already  his  inven- 
tion had  covered  the  waters  of  the  Hudson,  he 
seemed  little  satisfied  with  the  results,  and  looked 
forward  to  far  more  extensive  operations.  "My 
ultimate  triumph,"  he  used  to  sa}',  "will  be 
on  the  Mississippi.  I  know  indeed  that  even  now 
it  is  deemed  impossible,  by  many,  that  the  diffi- 
culties of  its  navigation  can  be  overcome.  But  I 
am  confident  of  success.  I  may  not  live  to  see 
it;  but  the  Mississippi  will  yet  be  covered  by 
steamboats ;  and  thus  an  entire  change  be  wrought 
in  the  course  of  the  internal  navigation  and  com- 
merce of  the  country. 


THE  DYING  HINDOO. 

THERE  are  few  things  more  shocking  to  Euro- 
pean eyes  than  the  publicity  of  death-bed 
scenes  in  India,  and  the  apathetical  indifference 
displayed  by  the  Hindoos  while  attending  the  ex- 
piring moments  of  their  nearest  relatives  or 
friends.  Frequently  only  a  few  yards  from  a 
crowded  ghaut  thronged  by  the  inhabitants  of 
the  neighboring  village,  who  are  laughing,  sing- 
ing and  following  their  ordinary  occupations  with 
the  utmost  gayety,  a  dying  person  may  be  seen 
stretched  upon  a  charpoy  (bedstead)  close  to  the 
river's  brink,  surrounded  by  a  group  of  three  or 
four  individuals,  who  look  upon  the  sufferer  with- 
out the  slightest  appearance  of  interest.  As  soon 
as  the  breath  has  left  the  body,  the  corpse  is 
thrown  into  the  river,  death  being  often  precipi- 
tated by  stuffing  the  mouth  and  nose  with  mud. 
Strangers,  attracted  by  some  superb  lotus  floating 
down  the  stream,  are  disgusted  by  the  sight  of  a 
dead  body  rapidly  descending  with  the  tide,  the 
ghastly  head  appearing  above  the  surface  of  the 
water.  Every  Hindoo  is  anxious  to  draw  his  last 
Bgh  on  the  banks  of  the  Ganges,  or  some  equally 


sacred  stream  flowing  into  its  holy  waters  ;  the  re- 
latives therefore  of  expiring  persons  fulfil  the  last 
offices  of  humanity  in  the  manner  most  desirable 
lo  them  by  bringing  a  dying  friend  to  the  edge 
of  the  river,  and  consigning  the  bod}',  when  the 
vital  spark  has  fled,  to  the  hallowed  stream.  The 
corpse  of  a  rich  Hindoo  is  burned  upon  a  funeral 
pile ;  but  as  wood  is  dear,  the  poorer  classes 
either  dispense  with  it  entirely,  or  merely  scorch 
the  flesh  previously  to  launching  it  into  the  river. 
— Miss  Roberts  Oriental  Sketches. 


QUEEN  ISABELLA  OF  SPAIN. 

BY   WILLIAM   H.    PRESCOTT. 

T^ER  person  was  of  the  middle  height,  and 
X  J  well  proportioned.  She  had  a  clear,  fresh 
complexion,  with  light  blue  eyes  and  auburn  hair 
— a  style  of  beauty  exceedingly  rare  in  Spain. 
Her  features  were  regular,  and  universally  allowed 
to  be  uncommonly  handsome.  The  illusion 
which  attaches  to  rank,  more  especially  when 
united  with  engaging  manners,  might  lead  us  to 
suspect  some  exaggeration  in  the  encomiums  so 
liberally  lavished  on  her.  But  they  would  seem 
to  be  in  a  great  measure  justified  by  the  portraits 
that  remain  of  her,  which  combine  a  faultless 
symmetry  of  features  with  singular  sweetness  and 
intelligence  of  expression. 

Her  manners  were  most  gracious  and  pleasing. 
They  were  marked  by  natural  dignity  and  modest 
reserve,  tempered  by  an  affabillity  which  flowed 
from  the  kindliness  of  her  disposition.  She  was 
the  last  person  to  be  approached  with  undue 
familiarity ;  yet  the  respect  which  she  imposed 
was  mingled  with  the  strongest  feelings  of  devo- 
tion and  love.  She  showed  great  tact  in  accom- 
modating herself  to  the  peculiar  situation  and 
character  of  those  around  her.  She  appeared  in  ■ 
arms  at  the  head  of  her  troops,  and  shrunk  from 
none  of  the  hardships  of  war.  During  the  re- 
forms introduced  into  the  religious  houses,  she 
visited  the  nunneries  in  person,  taking  her  needle- 
work with  her,  and  passing  the  day  in  the  society 
of  the  inmates.  When  travelling  in  Galicia,  she 
attired  herself  in  the  costume  of  the  country, 
borrowing  for  that  purpose  the  jewels  and  other 
ornaments  of  the  ladies  there,  and  returning  them 
with  liberal  additions.  By  this  condescending 
and  captivating  deportment,  as  well  as  by  her 
higher  qualities,  she  gained  an  ascendency  over 


508 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS.  AND  THE 


her  turbulent  subjects,  which  no  king  of  Spain 
could  ever  boast. 

Che  spoke  the  Castilian  with  much  elegance 
and  correctness.     She  had  an  easy  fluency  of  dis- 

in** 


.«£•  Ms 

St. 


proverbs.  She  was  temperate  even  to  abstemi- 
ousness  in  her  diet,  seldom  or  never  tasting  wine ; 
and  so  frugal  in  her  table,  that  the  daily  expenses 
for  herself  and  family  did  not  exceed  the  moder- 
ate sum  of  forty  du- 
cats.  She  was 
equally  simple  and 
economical  in  her 
apparel.  On  all 
public  occasions, 
indeed,  she  dis- 
played a  royal  mag- 
nificence ;  but  she 
had  no  relish  for  it 
in  private,  and  she 
freely  gave  away 
her  clothes  and 
jewels,  as  presents 
to  her  friends. 
Naturally  of  a  se- 
date, though  cheer- 
ful temper,  she  had 
little  taste  for  the 
frivolous  amuse- 
ments which  make 
-J  up  so  much  of  a 
court  life  ;  and,  if 
she  encouraged  the 
presence  of  min- 
strels and  musi- 
cians in  her  palace, 
it  was  to  wean  her 
young  nobility 
from  the  coarser 
jtr*3  and  less  intellectual 
'III  pleasures  to  which 
1  they  we^e  addicted. 
Among  her  moral 
I  qualities,  the  most 
^"ia\S<  conspicuous,  per- 
|i||M  haps,  was  her  mag- 
ft^T  nanimity.  Shebe- 
Jlllllp  trayed  nothing  lit- 
?3tts  tie  or  selfish,  in 
thought  or  action. 
Her  schemes  were 
vast,  and  executed 
in  the  same  noble 
which     they    were     conceived.       She 


OUEEN    ISABELLA,    OF   SPAIN. 

course,    which,    though   generally   of  a    serious     spirit 

complexion,    was     occasionally     seasoned    with      never  employed  doubtful  agents  or  sinister  mea 

agreeable  sallies,  some  of  which  have  passed  into      snres,    but    the    most   direct   and    open    policy, 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE  WORLD'S  HISTORY. 


509 


•Jhe  scorned  to  avail  herself  of  advantages 
offered  by  the  perfidy  of  others.  Where  she 
had  once  given  her  confidence,  she  gave  her 
hearty  and  steady  support ;  and  she  was  scru- 
pulous to  redeem  any  pledge  she  had  made 
to  those  who  ventured  in  her  cause,  however 
unpopular.  She  sustained  Ximenes  in  all  his 
obnoxious,  but  salutary  reforms.  She  seconded 
Columbus  in  the  prosecution  of  his  arduous  en- 
terprise, and  shielded  him  from  the  calumny  of 
his  enemies.  She  did  the  same  good  service  to 
her  favorite,  Gonsalvo  de  Cordova ;  and  the  day 
of  her  death  was  felt,  and,  as  it  proved,  truly 
felt  by  both,  as  the  last  of  their  good  fortune. 
Artifice  and  duplicity  were  so  abhorrent  to  her 
character,  and  so  averse  from  her  domestic  pol- 
icy, that  when  they  appear  in  the  foreign  re- 
lations with  Spain,  it  is  certainly  not  imputable 
to  her.  She  was  incapable  of  harboring  any 
petty  distrust,  or  latent  malice ,  and,  although 
stern  in  the  execution  and  exaction  of  public  jus- 
tice, she  made  the  most  generous  allowance,  and 
even  sometimes  advances,  to  those  who  had  per- 
sonally injured  her. 

But  the  principle,  which  gave  a  peculiar  color- 
ing to  every  feature  of  Isabella's  mind,  was  piety. 
It  shone  forth  from  the  very  depths  of  her  soul 
with  a  heavenly  radiance,  which  illuminated  her 
whole  character.  Fortunately,  her  earliest  years 
had  been  passed  in  the  rugged  school  of  adver- 
sity, under  the  eye  of  a  mother  who  implanted  in 
her  serious  mind  such  strong  principles  of  religion 
as  nothing  in  after  life  had  power  to  shake.  At 
an  early  age,  in  the  flower  of  youth  and  beauty, 
she  was  introduced  to  her  brother's  court;  but 
its  blandishments,  so  dazzling  to  a  young  imagi- 
nation, had  no  power  over  hers  ;  for  she  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  moral  atmosphere  of  purity, 

Driving  far  off  each  thing  of  sin  and  guilt. 
Such  was  the  decorum  of  her  manners,  that, 
though  encompassed  by  false  friends  and  open 
enemies,  not  the  slightest  reproach  was  breathed 
on  her  fair  name  in  this  corrupt  and  calumnious 
court. 

DEATH  OF  ARCHIMEDES. 

IT  is  related  that  when  the  Roman  army  took 
Syracuse,  Archimedes,  the  great  geometri- 
cian, was  occupied  with  some  geometrical  demon- 
stration. He  heard  nothing  of  the  sounds  of  con- 
fusion and  strife,  and  was  wholly  insensible  to  all 


the  scenes  of  suffering  around  him;  and  when  the 
soldier  who  took  his  life  entered  the  room  where 
he  was  sitting,  calmly  drawing  the  lines  of  a  dia- 
gram, and  placed  a  sword  to  his  throat — "  Hold, 
friend ! ' '  said  Archimedes  :  ' '  one  moment,  and  my 
demonstration  will  be  finished  ! ' ' 

The  soldier  did  not  heed  the  request,  but  struck 
him  down  without  mercy,  so  that  the  demonstra- 
tion upon  which  he  was  then  at  work  wa3 
never  finished.  The  general  who  commanded  the 
Roman  army  caused  his  body  to  receive  a  decent 
burial,  and  afterward  erected  a  tombstone  over  his 
grave.  Forty  years  afterward  Cicero  visited  his 
grave,  and  found  it  overgrown  with  weeds  and 
thorns. 

Archimedes  was  born  in  Syracuse,  Sicily,  about 
2S7  B.  C,  and  was  murdered  by  the  Roman 
soldier,  as  related  above,  in  212.  King  Hiero, 
of  Syracuse,  was  his  personal  friend  and  patron. 
The  king,  on  a  certain  occasion,  ordered  a  golder> 
crown  from  a  goldsmitn  of  Syracuse,  and  upor 
examining  it,  after  it  had  been  delivered  to  him, 
he  became  suspicious  that  it  was  alloyed  with 
silver.  He  accordidgly  gave  the  crown  to  his 
friend  Archimedes,  and  desired  him  to  ascertain 
if  his  suspicions  were  correct.  The  philosopher 
was  at  a  loss  how  to  proceed  with  the  investiga- 
tion, but  going  one  day  into  a  public  bath,  the 
tub  chanced  to  be  full  of  water,  and  he  instantly 
discovered  that  as  much  water  must  run  over  the 
edge  of  the  tub  as  would  be  equal  to  the  bulk  of 
his  body.  Perceiving  that  this  gave  him  a  mode 
of  determining  the  bulk  and  specific  gravity  of  the 
crown,  he  sprang  out  of  the  tub  and  ran  through 
the  streets,  shouting,  Eureka  !  Eureka  !  "I  have 
found  it ! "  "I  have  found  it."  His  fellow-towns- 
men, being  well  acquainted  with  his  peculiarities, 
did  not  arrest  him  as  a  madman,  but  permitted 
him  to  go  unmolested  on  his  way,  being  assured 
that  he  had  suddenly  made  some  important  and 
valuable  discovery. 

This  was  in  fact  the  origin  of  the  discovery  of 
the  important  principle  that  a  body  plunged  in  a 
fluid  loses  as  much  of  its  weight  as  is  equal  to  the 
weight  of  an  equal  volume  of  the  fluid.  It  ena- 
bled him  to  determine  that  the  king's  suspicions 
regarding  the  alloy  of  the  crown  were  correct,  and 
the  dishonest  goldsmith  was  accordingly  arrested, 
and,  when  confronted  by  the  evidence  and  demon- 
strations of  Archimedes,  confessed  his  guilt  and 
threw  himself  upon  the  mercy  of  the  king. 


C5io) 


THE   BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


511 


In  his  old  age  it  is  said  that  Archimedes  de- 
fended his  native  city  against  the  Romans  by  con- 
centrating the  rays  of  the  sun,  from  numerous 
large  morrors,  upon  their  ships,  until  they  burst 
into  flames  and  were  destroyed.  He  also  invented 
a  powerful  derrick,  so  it  is  stated,  by  means  of 
which  he  could  seize  a  ship  and  with  a  single 
whirling  stroke  dash  it  in  pieces.  Several  im- 
portant principles  of  mechanism,  as  now  applied, 
owe  their  origin  to  this  great  Sicilian  inventor. 


MONTEZUMA,  THE  EMPEROR  OF  MEXICO. 
BY   WILLIAM    H.    PRESCOTT. 

IT  is  not  easy  to  depict  the  portrait  of  Monte- 
zuma in  its  true  colors,  since  it  has  been 
exhibited  to  us  under  two  aspects,  of  the  most 
opposite  and  contradictory  character.  In  the  ac- 
counts gathered  of  him  by  the  Spaniards,  on 
coming  into  the  country,  he  was  uniformly  repre- 
sented as  bold  and  warlike,  unscrupulous  as  to 
the  means  of  gratifying  his  ambition,  hollow  and 
perfidious,  the  terror  of  his  foes,  with  a  haughty 
bearing  which  made  him  feared  even  by  his  own 
people.  They  found  him,  on  the  contrary,  not 
merely  affable  and  gracious,  but  disposed  to  waive 
all  the  advantages  of  his  own  position,  and  to 
place  them  on  a  footing  with  himself;  making 
their  wishes  his  law ;  gentle  even  to  effeminacy  in 
his  deportment,  and  constant  in  his  friendship, 
while  his  whole  nation  was  in  arms  against  them. 
Yet  these  traits,  so  contradictory,  were  truly 
enough  drawn.  They  are  to  be  explained  by  the 
extraordinary  circumstances  of  his  position. 

When  Montezuma  ascended  the  throne,  he  was 
scarcely  twenty-three  years  of  age.  Young,  and 
ambitious  of  extending  his  empire,  he  was  con- 
tinually engaged  in  war,  and  is  said  to  have  been 
present  himself  in  nine  pitched  battles.  He  was 
greatly  renowned  for  his  martial  prowess,  for  he 
belonged  to  the  Quachidin,  the  highest  military 
order  of  his  nation,  and  one  into  which  but  few 
even  of  its  sovereigns  had  been  admitted.  In 
later  life,  he  preferred  intrigue  to  violence,  as 
more  consonant  to  his  character  and  priestly  edu- 
cation. In  this  he  was  as  great  an  adept  as  any 
prince  of  his  time,  and,  by  arts  not  very  honor- 
able to  himself,  succeeded  in  filching  away  much 
of  the  territory  of  his  royal  kinsman  of  Tezcuco. 
Severe  in  the  administration  of  justice,  he  made 
important  reforms  in  the  arrangement  ~f  the  tri- 
bunals.    He  introduced  other  innovations  in  the 


royal  household,  creating  new  offices,  introducing 
a  lavish  magnificence  and  forms  of  courtly  eti- 
quette unknown  to  his  ruder  predecessors.  He ' 
was,  in  short,  most  attentive  to  all  that  concerned 
the  exterior  and  pomp  of  royalty.  Stately  and 
decorous,  he  was  careful  of  his  own  dignity,  and 
might  be  said  to  be  as  great  an  ' '  actor  of  ma- 
jesty ' '  among  the  barbarian  potentates  of  the  New 
World,  as  Louis  the  Fourteenth  was  among  the 
polished  princes  of  Europe. 

He  was  deeply  tinctured,  moreover,  with  that 
spirit  of  bigotry,  which  threw  such  a  shade  over 
the  latter  days  of  the  French  monarch.  He  re- 
ceived the  Spaniards  as  the  beings  predicted  by 
his  oracles.  The  anxious  dread,  with  which  he 
had  evaded  their  proffered  visit,  was  founded  on 
the  same  feelings  which  led  him  so  blindly  to 
resign  himself  to  them  on  their  approach.  He 
felt  himself  rebuked  by  their  superior  genius. 
He  at  once  conceded  all  that  they  demanded, — his 
treasures,  his  power,  even  his  person.  For  their 
sake,  he  forsook  his  wonted  occupation,  his  plea- 
sures, his  most  familiar  habits.  He  might  be  said 
to  forego  his  nature  ;  and,  as  his  subjects  asserted, 
to  change  his  sex  and  become  a  woman.  If  we 
cannot  refuse  our  contempt  for  the  pusillanimity 
of  the  Aztec  monarch,  it  should  be  mitigated  by 
the  consideration,  that  his  pusillanimity  sprung 
from  his  superstition,  and  that  superstition  in  the 
savage  is  the  substitute  for  religious  principle  in 
the  civilized  man. 

It  is  not  easy  to  contemplate  the  fate  of  Monte- 
zuma without  feelings  of  the  strongest  compas- 
sion ; — to  see  him  thus  borne  along  the  tide  of 
events  beyond  his  power  to  avert  or  control  ;  to 
see  him,  like  some  stately  tree,  the  pride  of  his 
own  Indian  forests,  towering  aloft  in  the  pomp 
and  majesty  of  its  branches,  by  its  very  eminence 
a  mark  for  the  thunderbolt,  the  first  victim  of  the 
tempest  which  was  to  sweep  over  its  native  hills  ! 
When  the  wise  king  of  Tezcuco  addressed  his 
royal  relative  at  his  coronation,  he  exclaimed, 
' '  Happy  the  empire,  which  is  now  in  the  meri. 
dian  of  its  prosperity,  for  the  sceptre  is  given  U 
one  whom  the  Almighty  has  in  his  keeping;  antf 
the  nations  shall  hold  him  in  reverence  ! ' '  Alas  \ 
the  subject  of  this  auspicious  invocation  lived  to 
see  his  empire  melt  away  like  the  winter's  wreath  • 
to  see  a  strange  race  drop,  as  it  were,  from  the 
clouds  on  his  land  ;  to  find  himself  a  prisoner  in 
the  palace  of  his  latriers,  the  companion  of  those 


(512) 


X,0UI3  THE   FOURTEENTH. 


THE   BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


513 


who  were  the  enemies  of  his  gods  and  his  people ; 
to  be  insulted,  reviled,  trodden  in  the  dust,  by 
the  meanest  of  his  subjects,  by  those  who,  a  few 
mouths  previous,  had  trembled  at  his  glance ; 
drawing  his  last  breath  in  the  halls  of  the  stranger, 
—a  lonely  outcast  in  the  heart  of  his  own  capital ! 
He  was  the  sad  victim  of  destiny,— a  destiny  as 
dark  and  irre- 
sistible in  its 
march  as  that 
which  broods 
over  the  mythic 
legends  of  An- 
tiquity ! 


Jeanne  was  the  fifth  child  in  this  family  of 
French  peasants,  and  as  her  parents  were  too 
poor  to  give  her  an  education,  even  if  such  had 
been  the  custom  in  those  .times,  she  was  allowed 
to  grow  up  in  ignorance,  like  other  peasant  girls, 
and  became  accustomed  to  out-of-door  duties, 
such  as  the  tending  of  sheep,  riding  the  horses 


ROMANCE  OF 
THE  MAID  OF 
ORLEANS. 

ABOUT  141 1, 
in     the 

quaint  old  town 

of  Domremy,  in 

the  province    of 

Lorraine,  at  that 

time    belonging 

to    France,    but 

now   a    part    of 

the  German  Em- 
pire,   there  was 

born  a  little  girl, 

who  was  called 

by   her    parents 

Joan  or  Jeanne, 

and   who    was 

destined,  in  her 

short  life  of  only 

twenty  years, 
to  win  a  glorious 
immortality. 
Her  parents 
were  poor  and 
obscure  ;  in  fact 
they  constituted 
so  insignificant 
a  part  of  the  great  mass  of  humanity  that 
her  father's  name  is  not  even  known  with 
certainty,  but  it  is  supposed  to  have  been  Dare. 
The  little  cottage  in  which  she  was  born  still 
stands,  as  shown  in  the  accompanying  engraving, 
and  is  protected  by  two  stately  buildings  on  either 
side,  erected  as  a  monument  to  her  memory. 
33 


the    watering  place,    milking    the 


JOAN    OF  ARC. 

to    and    from 
cows,  etc. 

She  was  a  quiet,  demure  child,  and  spent  much 
of  her  time  gazing  into  the  heavens  and  dream- 
ing unutterable  things.  In  142 1,  when  she  was 
ten  years  of  age,  the  great  Henry  V.,  of  England, 
the  hero  of  Agincourt,  died,  and  his  infant  sonj 


514 


THE    WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


then  onljr  nine  months  old,  was  declared  by  Par- 
liament king  of  France  and  England  and  lord  of 
Ireland,  under  the  title  of  Hear)-  VI.  The 
greater  part  of  France  had  been  subdued  by  the 
arms  of  his  heroic  father,  but  Charles  VII.,  after- 
wards called  ' '  the  victorious, ' '  claimed  the  throne 
and  was  supported  in  a  feeble  manner  by  a  min- 
ority of  the  people  in  the  central  and  southern 
portions  of  the  kingdom.  He  was  so  poor  and 
powerless  that  his  enemies  called  him    ' '  the  king 

r 


of  Bourges, "  as  if  that  city  were  the  whole  of  his 
monarchy. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  neighborhood  in  which 
Jeanne's  parents  lived  were  intensely  patriotic 
and  loyal  to  the  house  of  Orleans,  represented  by 
Charles ;  they  were  also  ignorant  and  supersti- 
tious, believers  in  miracles  and  wonders,  and 
were  earnestly  expecting  the  fulfilment  of  a 
prophecy  to  the  effect  that  a  virgin  should  relieve 
France  of  her  enemies.  This  prophecy  was 
doubtless  nothing  more  than  a  pulpit  exclama- 
tion, uttered  by  some  priest  with  reference  to  the 
saving  powers  of  the  Virgin  Mary.  But  it  took 
fast  hold  upon  the  lively  imaginations  of  the 
credulous  peasants,  and  especially  did  it  make  a 
profound  impression  on  the  plastic  mind  of  the 
dreaming  maiden.  She  began  to  hear  mysterious 
voices,  and  see  wonderful  visions.     Her  thoughts 


wandered  into  the  future,  where  she  heard  the 
clash  of  arms  and  caught  the  first  glimmering? 
of  those  military  glories  in  which  she  was  to  be 
the  central  figure  and  the  moving  spirit.  In  a 
few  years  the  idea  that  she  was  the  virgin  to  whom 
the  prophecy  referred,  and  that  she  should  save 
her  country  and  crown  her  king,  took  full  posses- 
sion of  her  and  controlled  all  her  actions  and 
purposes.  But  she  observed  a  studious  silence, 
and  remained  apparently  the  same  dreaming  child 

she  had  always  been, 
while  her  soul  ex- 
panded with  visions 
of  patriotism  and 
renown. 

When  she  was 
about  seventeen 
years  of  age  her  na- 
tive village  was  at- 
tacked by  a  roving 
band  of  Burgun- 
dians,  serving  in  the 
interest  of  the  Eng- 
lish partj-,  who  com- 
mitted such  gross 
outrages  upon  the 
people  that  her  vis- 
ions and  dreams  be- 
came a  fixed  purpose, 
and  roused  her  to 
decisive  action. 
Through  the  influ- 
ence of  an  uncle,  who 
seems  to  have  been  a  person  of  some  standing, 
she  obtained  an  audience  with  the  governor  of 
Vaucouleurs,  to  whom  she  revealed  her  wishes, 
and  appealed  for  assistance  in  the  accomplishment 
of  her  purpose.  But  he  treated  her  pretensions 
with  such  unconcealed  scorn  and  contempt  that 
she  was  abashed,  and  returned  to  her  uncle  de- 
pressed and  in  anguish.  The  voices  and  visions 
soon  returned,  however,  with  greater  power  than 
ever  ;  and  she  renewed  her  entreaties  to  the  gov- 
ernor, pressing  her  claims  with  such  earnestness 
and  enthusiasm  that  he  was  at  length  influenced 
to  some  extent  by  the  superstitious  reverence 
which  had  begun  to  hedge  her  about ;  and  he 
accordingly  sent  her  to  Chinon,  where  Charles 
was  then  holding  his  court,  accompanied  by  a 
letter  explaining  the  object  of  her  visit.  On 
arriving  there  and  making  known  her  mission, 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


515 


she  declared  that  she  would  be  able  to  distinguish 
the  king  by  inspiration,  no  matter  under  what 
circumstances  she  might  first  behold  him  ;  and  as 
a  test  of  her  powers  she  was  introduced  into  the 
audience  room,  where 
she  immediately 
singled  out  the  king 
and  fell  on  her  knees 
before  him,  although 
he  had  purposely  re- 
moved all  marks  of 
royalty  from  his  per- 
son. This  circum- 
stance is  in  fact  not 
surprising,  when  we 
remember  that  there 
is  a  subtle,  undefined 
something  about  all 
distinguished  people 
which  separates  them 
from  the  common 
herd  and  marks  them 
as  those  who  have 
been  set  apart  for  a 
special  purpose. 

The  devotion  and 
enthusiasm  of  the 
rustic  maiden  deeply 
impressed  the  king, 
but  before  yielding 
to  her  entreaties  for 
permission  to  lead  an 
arm}-  against  the  Eng- 
lish, he  directed  that 
her  claims  to  super- 
natural powers  should 
be  tested  by  a  rigid 
examination,  to  which 
she  cheerfully  s  u  b  - 
mitted.  But  no  indi- 
cations of  her  alliance 
with  the  powers  of 
darkness  were  discov- 
ered, and  the  fact  of 
her  virginity  being 
accepted  as  a  satis- 
factory    assurance 

that  she  was  not  under  Satanic  influence,  a 
decision  favorable  to  her  wishes  was  reached. 
A  suit  of  armor  was  made  to  fit  her  person, 
and  at  her   request  a    consecrated   sword  which 


she  described  as  buried  in  the  church  of  St. 
Catharine,  at  Fierbois,  was  discovered  and 
brought  to  her.  Thus  equipped  she  placed  her- 
self at  the  head  of  an  army  of  10,000  men,   com- 


70UNDING   OF  JOAN   OF   ARC. 

manded  by  experienced  officers,  and  animating 
them  with  a  spirit  of  religious  fervor,  as  Crom- 
well did  his  Ironsides  two  centuries  later,  she 
launched   ber   forces   suddenly  and  with   fearful 


51 6 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


havoc  upon  the  English  who  were  then  besieging 
Orleans,  defeated  them  in  a  number  of  brilliant 
and  dashing  engagements,  and  within  a  week 
compelled  them  to  raise  the  siege.  Her  genius 
for  war  was  identical  with  that  which  has  ani- 
mated all  great  military  leaders,  namely,  quick 
and  unexpected  movements,  bringing  overpower- 
ing numbers  to  bear  upon  strategic  points,  and 
thus  throwing  the  enemy  into  confusion. 

Having  driven  the  English  from  before  Orleans, 
she  did  not  give  them  time  to  recover  from  their 
confusion,  but  pressed  them  so  vigorously  at  all 
points  that  within  three  months  the  French  arms 
were  victorious  over  the  larger  part  of  the  king- 
dom, and  Charles  was  triumphantly  crowned  at 


ENGLISH   ARCHERS    OF    THE    FIFTEENTH 
CENTURY. 

Rheims,  the  Maid  of  Orleans,    in   full  armor,  oc- 
cupying a  distinguished  place  by  his  side. 

Having  accomplished  the  mission  for  which  she 
believed  that  she  had  been  divinely  inspired,  the 
virgin  commander  now  desired  to  retire  to  the  se- 
clusion of  her  rural  home,  but  the  king  and'  his 
principal  officers  felt  that  they  could  not  do  with- 
out her,  and  prevailed  upon  her  to  remain  with 
the  army.  It  was  a  fatal  determination,  for  the 
spell  of  her  victorious  career  was  broken,  and 
from  that  time  she  experienced  nothing  but  dis- 
aster, ending  in  a  frightful  and  ignominious 
death.  During  the  early  part  of  the  winter  of 
1429,  her  army  besieged  the  city  of  Paris,  and 
during  an  assault  upon  the  enemy's  works,  which 
she  led  and  encouraged  by  her  immediate  pres- 
ence, she  was  severely  wounded  in  the   shoulder 


by  an  arrow.  The  English  archers  were  then 
celebrated  for  their  skill  in  the  use  of  this  primi- 
tive military  weapon.  Their  aim  was  unerring, 
and  it  is  asserted  that  at  short  distances  they 
could  pierce  the  stoutest  armor.  It  proved  to  be 
only  too  true  in  the  case  of  Joan  of  Arc,  and  she 
fell  from  her  horse  dangerously  wounded. 

She  did  not  recover  until  the  following  spring, 
when,  placing  herself  once  more  at  the  head  of 
an  army,  she  threw  her  forces  like  a  thunderbolt 
upon  the  English  who  had  surrounded  and  were 
besieging  Compiegne,  breaking  through  their 
ranks  and  carrying  her  troops  triumphantly  into 
the  city.  Soon  afterward,  on  the  24th  of  May, 
1430,  she  led  a  sortie  against  the  besiegers,  and 
was  captured  and  conveyed  to  Beaurevoir,  then 
in  possession  of  the  English,  where  she  was  con- 
fined in  a  dungeon  of  the  fortress.  She  attempted 
to  escape  by  leaping  from  the  walls  of  the  dun- 
geon, but  was  discovered,  lecaptured,  and  con- 
veyed to  Rouen  for  greater  security. 

The  University  of  Paris  now  demanded  that  she 
should  be  tried  as  a  sorcerer,  for  they  asserted 
that  no  person  could  entertain  such  sentiments  as 
hers  or  perform   the   deeds  that  she  had  accom- 
plished without  being  in  league  with  the  powers 
of  darkness.       Such  were  the  superstitions  of  the 
times,  even  among  the  learned  men   of  the  uni- 
versities !     The  leading  English  authorities  were 
unwilling  to  proceed   to  extreme  measures,   but 
the  French  party  in  alliance  with  them,   and  op- 
posed to  the  Orleans  family,  forced  the  issue,  and 
the  trial  began.     It  lasted  for  several  months,  and 
resulted,  as  might  have  been  expected,  in  convic- 
tion.    The  sentence  was  read  to  Joan  in  public 
by   the   Bishop  of  Beauvais,  and   the  alternative 
offered   of    recantation    and    submission    to    the 
church,  or  the  stake.       Terrified  at  the  prospects 
of  so  horrible   a  death,  the  young  girl  recanted, 
and  was  taken  back  to  prison.     Here  her  visions 
returned,  and  strengthened  her  determination  to 
remain  true  to  her  convictions  even  at  the  risk  of 
martyrdom.       But   the   enemies   of    herself    and 
France  had  decided  that  she  must  be  destroyed, 
and  for  the  purpose  of  tempting  her  a  suit   of 
male  attire  was  left  in  her  cell,  as  if  by  mistake. 
She  innocently  fell  into  the  trap,  and  was  detected 
by  the  Bishop  in  the  act  of  donning  the  clothes, 
with  the  evident  intention   of  trying  to  escape. 
The  Bishop  declared  that  her  conduct  was  suffi- 
cient evidence  of   her   relapse   into    her    former 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


517 


belief  and  he  took  immediate  steps  to  hasten  the 
execution  of  the  first  sentence.  On  the  morning 
of  the  30th  of  May,  a  Dominican  brother  named 
Martin  L,advenu  was  instructed  to  announce  this 
decision  to  Joan.  At  first  she  gave  way  to  feel- 
ings of  terror.  "  Alas  ! '  she  cried,  "  am  I  to  be 
so  horribly  and  cruelly  treated  that  this  my  body, 
full  pure  and  perfect  and  never  defiled,  must  to- 
day be  consumed  and  reduced  to  ashes  !  Ah  !  I 
would  seven  times  rather  be  beheaded  than 
burned  !  ' ' 

At  this  moment  the  bishop  of  Beauvais  came 
up.  "  Bishop,"  said  Joan,  "  you  are  the  cause  of 
my  death  ;  if  you  had  put  me  in  the  prisons  of 
the  Church  and  in  the  hands  of  fit  and  proper 
ecclesiastical  warders,  this  had  never  happened  ; 
I  appeal  from  you  to  the  presence  of  God." 

Peter  Maurice,  one  of  the  doctors  who  had  sat 
in  judgment  against  her,  came  to  see  her,  and 
asked  her  sympathy  and  forgiveness.  "Master 
Peter,"  said  she  to  him,  "where  shall  I  be  to- 
night ?"  "  Have  you  not  good  hope  in  God  ?"  re- 
plied the  doctor.  "Oh!  yes,"  she  answered; 
"  by  the  grace  of  God  I  shall  be  in  paradise." 

On  being  left  alone  with  the  Dominican,  she 
confessed  and  asked  to  communicate.  The  monk 
thereupon  sent  to  the  bishop  to  inquire  what  he 
should  do.  "Tell  Brother  Martin,"  was  the 
answer,  "to  give  her  the  eucharist  and  all  she 
asks  for. ' ' 

i\t  nine  o'clock,  having  resumed  her  woman's 
dress,  Joan  was  dragged  from  the  prison  and 
driven  to  the  market  place.  The  car  was  guarded 
by  from  seven  to  eight  hundred  soldiers,  and  no 
one  was  permitted  to  approach  near  it ;  but  one 
man  forced  a  passage  through  the  soldiers  and 
threw  himself  at  the  feet  of  the  trembling  victim. 
It  was  Nicholas  Loiseleur,  who,  having  been 
placed  as  a  sp}'  over  the  Maid  of  Orleans,  had 
abused  her  confidence,  and  now,  beside  himself 
with  despair,  wished  to  ask  her  pardon.  The 
English  soldiers  drove  him  back  with  violence, 
applying  to  him  the  epithet  of  traitor,  and  his  life 
would  have  been  in  danger  but  for  the  interven- 
tion of  the  Earl  of  Warwick. 

Joan  wept  and  prayed,  and  the  crowd  afai  off 
wept  and  prayed  with  her.  On  arriving  at  the 
place  of  execution  she  listened  in  silence  to  a  ser- 
mon by  one  of  the  doctors  of  the  court,  who  ended 
by  saying,  ' '  Joan,  go  in  peace  ;  the  Churcti  can 
no  longer  defend  thee  ;  she  gives  thee  over  to  the 


secular  arm."  The  priest  was  continuing  his  ex- 
hortations, when  the  soldiers  cried  out,  "How 
now  !  priest,  are  you  going  to  make  us  dine  here  ?" 
"  Away  with  her  !"  said  the  baillie  to  the  guards, 
and  then  turning  to  the  executioner,  he  exclaimed, 
"  Do  thy  duty." 

When  she  came  to  the  stake  Joan  knelt  down 
and  became  completely  absorbed  in  prayer.  She 
had  begged  a  priest  named  Massieu  to  get  her  a 
cross,  but  he  neglected  to  comply  with  ber  re- 
quest ;  whereupon  an  Englishman  present  made 
one  out  of  a  little  stick,  and  handed  it  to  her. 
She  took  it  eagerly,  kissed  it,  and  laid  it  on  her 
breast.  She  then  begged  another  priest  to  pro- 
cure the  cross  in  the  church  of  St.  Sauveur,  the 
principal  door  of  which  opened  into  the  market 
place,  and  hold  it  "  upright  before  her  eyes  until 
the  coming  of  death,  in  order  that  the  cross 
whereon  God  hung  might  as  long  as  she  lived 
continue  in  her  sight."  This  priest,  more  kind- 
hearted  and  humane  than  his  fellows,  complied 
faithfully  with  her  wishes.  She  wept  for  her 
country  and  the  spectators,  as  well  as  for  herself. 
"Rouen!  Rouen!"  she  cried,  "  is  it  here  that  I 
must  die  ?  Shalt  thou  be  my  last  resting-place  ?  I 
fear  greatly  thou  wilt  have  to  suffer  for  my  death. ' ' 

At  this  moment  the  executioner  set  fire  to  the 
fagots.  When  Joan  perceived  the  flames  rising, 
she  begged  her  confessor  to  kneel  down  in  front 
of  her,  at  the  same  time  asking  him  to  hold  the 
cross  up  high  in  front  that  she  might  never  cease 
to  see  it,  and  thus  miserably  perished  one  of  the 
purest  souls  God  ever  created.  When  the  life  was 
gone  from  her  body  two  of  her  conscience-stricken 
judges  cried  out  in  despair,  and  one  exclaimed, 
"Would  that  my  soul  were  where  I  believe  the 
soul  of  that  woman  is  !"  The  English  secretary 
of  Henry  VI.,  named  Tressart,  said  sorrowfully 
011  his  return  from  the  place  of  execution,  "We 
are  all  lost ;  we  have  burned  a  saint." 

Her  ashes  were  then  gathered  up  and  thrown 
into  the  Seine,  in  order  that  they  might  be  so  scat- 
tered as  to  prevent  resurrection  on  the  day  of 
judgment,  in  accordance  with  a  belief  entertained 
by  the  church  at  that  time. 

The  execution  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans  was  one 
of  the  most  cruel  and  barbarous  deeds  that  blacken 
the  pages  of  mediaeval  history,  but  it  has  resulted 
in  a  glorious  immortality  of  fame  for  the  victim, 
while  the  very  names  of  her  persecutors  are  sunk 
in  the  oblivion  of  infamv  and  universal  abhor- 


^p»  -~-S5g^--  -^  AaJA;Ui,ulESLE^ASlUTTSASr^= 


'5IS) 


EXECUTION   OF  JOAN   OF  ARC. 


THE   BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


519 


rence.  So  it  is  that  time  makes  all  things  equal ! 
The  king  showed  a  base  ingratitude  toward  his 
heroic  deliverer.  He  made  no  effort  to  prevent 
the  execution  of  the  cruel  sentence,  or  to  avenge 
her  death ;  and  he  waited  ten  long  years  before 
taking  steps  to  relieve  her  memory  of  the  obloquy 
which  naturally  attaches  to  a  criminal  execution. 
Then  he  caused  her  sentence  to  be  reversed,  and 
prono  unced 
her  ' '  a  mar- 
tyr to  her  re- 
1  i  g  i  o  n  ,  her 
country  and 
her  king." 

But  the 
death  of 
Charles  was 
little,  if  any 
less  terrible 
than  that  of 
the  innocent 
and  patriotic 
maid  ;  and 
we  have  in 
this  fact  an 
instance  in 
support  of  the 
principle 
which  his- 
tory plainly 
teaches, 
namely,  that 
retribution, 
even  though 
it  may  be 
slow,  is  nev- 
ertheless sure 
and  terrible. 


Her  character  was  spotless  and  free  from  reproach. 
She  was  distinguished  for  modesty,  innocence, 
and  purity.  Although  she  planned  and  directed 
a  score  of  battles,  and  never  hesitated  to  lead  her 
soldiers  into  the  hottest  of  the  fight,  yet  it  is  as- 
serted that  with  her  own  hands  she  never  shed  a 
drop  of  human  blood.  She  continued  to  carry 
her  enchanted  sword,   but  never  used  it,  relying 


KNIGHTS    DISPLAYING  THE   ORIFUMME. 


Although  the  king  was  victorious  in 
his  subsequent  wars  with  the  English,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  releasing  the  larger  part  of  his  country 
from  foreign  dominion,  yet  his  later  years  were 
embittered  by  the  intrigues  and  rebellion  of  his 
son,  the  future  cruel  and  craft}-  L,ouis  XI.  Charles' 
fear  of  being  poisoned  by  his  son  was  so  over- 
whelming that  he  finally  refused  to  take  any- 
thing to  eat,  and  died  miserably  from  starvation. 
The  Maid  of  Orleans  has  been  the  subject  of 
numerous  poems,  tragedies,  and  romances,  while 
the  memory  of  her  great  deeds  is  preserved  not 
alone  in  the  pages  of  history  and  famous  statues 
and  paintings,   but  in  the  hearts  of  the  people. 


upon  her  personal  magnetism  and  the  inspiration 
of  her  consecrated  banner  for  victory.  The  gentle 
dignity  of  her  bearing  impressed  all  who  came 
within  the  circle  of  its  magic  influence,  and  re- 
strained the  brutality  of  her  soldiers  on  the  battle- 
field and  in  the  midst  of  victory.  How  glorious 
does  this  gentle,  earnest,  lovable  character  appear 
in  contrast  with  the  cruelty  and  baseness  of  her 
infamous  and  detestable  persecutors. 

The    Oriflamme. 

The  "consecrated  banner"  so  frequently  re- 
ferred to  in  the  history  of  Joan  of  Arc,  is  sup- 
posed to  have  been  the  famous  "Oriflamme,"  or 
banner  of  the  Capetian  kings.     It  originally  be- 


520 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND  THE 


longed  to  the  Abbey  of  St.  Denis,  and  the  monks 
claimed  that  they  received  it  from  heaven.  For 
many  years  the  banner  was  used  exclusively  in 
religious  ceremonies,  but  it  was  afterward  carried 
by  the  counts  of  Yexin,  in  their  capacity  of 
patrons  of  the  monastery,  in  the  religious  wars 
which  they  waged  for  its  protection.  When 
Philip  I.,  of  France,  annexed  Yexin  to  his  domiu- 


devotion  of  the  soldiers.  Miracles  also  were  at- 
tributed to  its  sacred  influence.  The  following 
marvellous  incident  is  related  by  Sir  John 
Froissart,  in  connection  with  his  description  of 
the  battle  of  Rosebeccpie,  fought  by  the  French 
and  the  Flemings  : 

"The  lord  de  Clisson,  Sir  John  de  Vienne,  and 
Sir  William  de  L,angres,    having  made   their  re- 


thr  king  taking  the  ORiFLAMiiE  into  battle. — (Copy  of  engraving  oftbe  sixteenth  century.) 


ions,  he  adopted  the  Oriflamme  as  his  royal 
standard,  and  it  was  carried  by  him  and  his  suc- 
cessors for  many  centuries.  It  was  composed  of 
flame-colored  silk,  adorned  with  green  silk  tassels, 
and  hanging  from  a  gilded  shaft. 

The  Oriflamme  was  regarded  with  superstitious 
reverence,  and  when  unfurled  it  never  failed  to 
excite  the  enthusiasm   and   arouse  the    patriotic 


port  to  the  king,  left  him  and  went  to  their  post 
in  the  vanguard.  Shortly  afterwards,  the  Ori- 
flamme was  displayed  by  Sir  Peter  de  Villieis, 
who  bore  it.  Some  say  (as  they  find  it  written) 
that  it  was  never  before  displayed  against  Chris- 
tians, and  that  it  was  a  matter  of  great  doubt 
during  the  march  whether  it  should  be  displayed 
or  not.      However,  the  matter  having  been  fully 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


521 


considered,  they  resolved  to  display  it,  because 
the  Flemings  followed  opinions  contrary  to  those 
of  Pops  Clement,  and  called  themselves  Urbanists; 
for  which  the  French  said  they  were  rebellious 
and  out  of  the  pale  of  the  Church.  This  was  the 
principal  cause  why  it  had  been  brought  and  dis- 
played in  Flanders. 

"The  Oriflanime  was  a  most  excellent  banner, 
and  had  been  sent  from  heaven  with  great  mys- 
tery :  it  is  a  sort  of  gonfanon,  and  is  of  much  com- 
fort iu  the  day  of  battle  to  those  who  see  it. 
Proof  was  made  of  its  virtues  at  this  time  ;  for 
all  the  morning  there  was  so  thick  a  fog,  that 
with  difficulty  the)-  could  see  each  other,  but  the 
moment  the  knight  had  displayed  it,  and  raised 
his  lance  in  the  air,  this  fog  instantly  dispersed, 
and  the  sky  was  as  clear  as  it  had  been  during  the 
whole  year.  The  lords  of  France  were  much  re- 
joiced when  they  saw  this  clear  da}-,  and  the  sun 
shine,  so  that  they  could  look  about  them  on  all 
sides. 

"It  was  a  fine  sight  to  view  these  banners, 
helmets,  and  beautiful  emblazoned  arms :  the 
army  kept  a  dead  silence,  not  uttering  a  sound, 
but  eyed  a  large  battalion  of  Flemings  before 
them,  who  were  marching  in  a  compact  body, 
with  their  staves  advanced  in  the  air,  which 
looked  like  spears ;  and,  so  great  were  their  num- 
bers, they  had  the  appearance  of  a  wood.  The 
Lord  d' Estonnenort  told  me,  that  he  saw  (as  well 
as  several  others)  when  the  Oriflamme  was  dis- 
played, and  the  fog  had  dispersed,  a  white  dove 
fly  many  times  around  the  king's  battalion. 
When  it  had  made  several  circles,  and  the  engage- 
ment was  about  to  begin,  it  perched  on  one  of  the 
king's  banners:  this  was  considered  as  a  fortu- 
nate omen." 

The  Oriflamme,  being  regarded  as  a  sacred  ban- 
ner, was  carefully  preserved  and  guarded.  It  had 
upon  it  the  name  of  St.  Diouysius,  and  was  never 
unfurled  except  upon  the  most  urgent  occasions, 
when  the  king  himself  was  present,  and  its  use 
was  forbidden  except  against  infidels  and  heretics. 


THE   RESCUE. 
BY    ROBERT    M.    BIRD. 

'ITH  these  words,  having  first  examined  his 
own  and  Roland's  arms,  to  see  that  all 
were  in  proper  battle  condition,  and  then  directed 
little  Peter  to  ensconce  in  a  bush,  wherein  little 
Peter     straightway     bestowed    himself,    Bloody 


ID' 


Nathan,  with  an  alacrity  of  motion  and  ardor 
of  look  that  indicated  anything  rather  than  dis- 
taste to  the  murderous  work  in  hand,  led  the  way 
along  the  ridge,  until  he  had  reached  the  place 
where  it  dipped  down  to  the  valley,  covered  with 
the  bushes  through  which  he  expected  to  ad- 
vance to  a  desirable  position  undiscovered. 

But  a  better  auxiliary  even  than  the  bushes 
was  soon  discovered  by  the  two  friends.  A  deep 
gull)-,  washed  in  the  side  of  the  hill  by  the  rains, 
was  here  found  running  obliquely  from  its  top  to 
the  bottom,  affording  a  covered  way,  by  which,  as 
they  saw  at  a  glance,  they  could  approach  within 
twenty  or  thirty  yards  of  the  foe  entirely  unseen  ; 
and,  to  add  to  its  advantages,  it  was  the  bed  of  a 
little  water-course,  whose  murmurs,  as  it  leaped 
from  rock  to  rock,  assured  them  they  could  as 
certainly  approach  unheard. 

"Truly,"  muttered  Nathan,  with  a  grim 
chuckle,  as  he  looked,  first  at  the  friendly  ravine, 
and  then  at  the  savages  below,  "the  Philistine 
rascals  is  in  our  hands,  and  we  will  smite  them 
hip  and  thigh  !" 

With  this  inspiring  assurance  he  crept  into  the 
ravine  ;  and  Roland  following,  they  were  soon  in 
possession  of  a  post  commanding,  not  only  the 
spot  occupied  by  the  enemy,  but  the  whole 
valley. 

Peeping  through  the  fringe  of  shrubs  that  rose, 
a  verdant  parapet,  on  the  brink  of  the  gully, they 
looked  down  upon  the  savage  part}',  now  less 
than  forty  paces  from  the  muzzles  of  their  guns, 
and  wholly  unaware  of  the  fate  preparing  for 
them.  The  scene  of  diversion  and  torment  was 
over :  the  prisoner,  a  man  of  powerful  frame  but 
squalid  appearance,  whose  hat, — a  thing  of  shreds 
and  patches, — adorned  the  shorn  pate  of  one  of 
the  Indians,  while  his  coat,  equally  rusty  and 
tattered,  hung  from  the  shoulders  of  a  second,  lay 
bound  under  a  tree,  but  so  nigh  that  they  could 
mark  the  laborious  heavings  of  his  chest.  Two 
of  the  Indians  sat  near  him  on  the  grass,  keeping 
watch,  their  hatchets  in  their  hands,  their  guns 
resting  within  reach  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree 
overthrown  by  some  hurricane  of  former  years 
and  now  mouldering  away.  A  third  was  en- 
gaged with  his  tomahawk,  lopping  away  the  few 
dry  boughs  that  remained  on  the  trunk.  Squat- 
ting at  the  fire,  which  the  third  was  thus  laboring 
to  replenish  with  fuel,  were  the  two  remaining 
savages  ;  who,  holding  their  rifles  in  their  hands, 


522 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


divided  their  attention  betwixt  a  shoulder  of 
venison  roasting  on  a  stick  in  the  fire,  and  the 
captive,  whom  the}'  seemed  to  regard  as  destined 
to  be  sooner  or  later  disposed  of  in  a  similar  man- 
ner. 

The  position  of  the  parties  precluded  the  hope 
Nathan  had  ventured  to  entertain  of  getting  them 
in  a  cluster,  and  so  doing  double  execution  with 
each  bullet  ;  but  the  disappointment  neither 
chilled  his  ardor  nor  embarrassed  his  plans.  His 
scheme  of  attack  had  been  framed  to  embrace  all 
contingencies  ;  and  he  wasted  no  further  time  in 
deliberation.  A  few  whispered  words  conveyed 
his  last  instructions  to  the  soldier  ;  who,  reflect- 
ing that  he  was  fighting  in  the  cause  of  humanity, 
remembering  his  own  heavy  wrongs,  and  marking 
the  fiery  eagerness  that  flamed  from  Nathan's 
visage,  banished  from  his  mind  whatever  disin- 
clination he  might  have  felt  at  beginning  the  fray 
in  a  mode  so  seemingly  treacherous  and  ignoble. 
He  laid  his  axe  on  the  brink  of  the  gully  at  his 
side,  together  with  his  foraging  cap  ;  and  then, 
thrusting  his  rifle  through  the  bushes,  took  aim 
at  one  of  the  savages  at  the  fire,  Nathan  direct- 
ing his  piece  against  the  other.  Both  of  them 
presented  the  fairest  marks,  as  they  sat  wholly 
unconscious  of  their  danger,  enjoying  in  imagina- 
tion the  tortures  yet  to  be  inflicted  on  the  prisoner. 
But  a  noise  in  the  gully, — the  falling  of  a  stone 
loosened  by  the  soldier's  foot,  or  a  louder  than 
usual  splash  of  water — suddenly  roused  them 
from  their  dreams  :  they  started  up,  and  turned 
their  eyes  towards  the  hill. — "Now,  friend!" 
whispered  Nathan; — "if  thee  misses,  thee  loses 
thee  maiden  and  thee  life  into  the  bargain.  Is 
thee  ready  ?" 

"  Ready,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Right,  then,  through  the  dog's  brain, — fire  !" 

The  crash  of  the  pieces,  and  the  fall  of  the  two 
victims,  both  marked  by  a  fatal  aim,  and  both 
pierced  through  the  brain,  were  the  first  an- 
nouncement of  peril  to  their  companions  ;  who, 
springing  up,  with  yells  of  fear  and  astonishment 
and  snatching  at  their  arms,  looked  wildly  around 
them  for  the  unseen  foe.  The  prisoner  also, 
astounded  out  of  his  despair,  raised  his  head  from 
the  grass,  and  glared  around.  The  wreaths  of 
smoke  curling  over  the  bushes  on  the  hill-side, 
betrayed  the  lurking-place  of  the  assailants,  and 
savages  and  prisoner  turning  together,  they  all 
beheld  at  once  the  spectacle  of  two  human  heads, 


— or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  two  human  caps, 
for  the  heads  were  far  below  them, — rising  in  the 
smoke,  and  peering  over  the  bushes,  as  if  to 
mark  the  result  of  the  volley.  Loud,  furious, 
and  exulting  were  the  screams  of  the  Indians,  as 
with  the  speed  of  thought,  seduced  by  a  stratagem 
often  practised  among  the  wild  heroes  of  the  bor- 
der, they  raised  and  discharged  their  pieces  against 
the  imaginary  foes  so  incautiously  exposed  to 
their  vengeance.  The  caps  fell,  and  with  them  the 
rifles  that  had  been  employed  to  raise  them  ;  and 
the  voice  of  Nathan  thundered  through  the  glen, 
as  he  grasped  his  tomahawk  and  sprang  from  the 
ditch, — "  Now,  friend  !  up  with  thee  axe.  and  do 
thee  duty  ! ' ' 

With  these  words,  the  two  assailants  at  once 
leaped  into  view,  and  with  a  bold  hurrah,  and 
bolder  hearts,  rushed  towards  the  file,  where  lay 
the  undischarged  rifles  of  their  first  victims.  The 
savages  3-elled  also  in  reply,  and  two  of  them 
bounded  forward  to  dispute  the  prize.  The  third, 
staggered  into  momentary  inaction  by  the  sud- 
denness and  amazement  of  the  attack,  rushed 
forward  but  a  step  ;  but  a  whoop  of  exultation  was 
on  his  lips,  as  he  raised  the  rifle  which  he  had 
not  yet  discharged,  full  against  the  breast  of 
blood}-  Nathan.  But  his  triumph  was  short-lived  ; 
so  fatal  as  it  must  have  proved  to  the  life  of 
Nathan,  it  was  averted  by  an  unexpected  inci- 
dent. The  prisoner,  near  whom  he  stood,  putting 
all  his  vigor  into  one  tremendous  effort,  burst  his 
bonds,  and,  with  a  yell  ten  times  louder  and 
fiercer  than  had  yet  been  uttered,  added  himself 
to  the  combatants.  With  a  furious  cry  of  en- 
couragement to  his  rescuers,  —  "Hurrah  for 
Kentucky! — give  it  to  'em  good!"  he  threw 
himself  upon  the  savage,  beat  the  gun  from  his 
hands,  and  grasping  him  in  his  brawny  arms, 
hurled  him  to  the  earth,  where,  rolling  over  and 
over  in  mortal  struggle,  growling  and  whooping, 
and  rending  one  another  like  wild  beasts,  the  two, 
still  locked  in  furious  embrace,  suddenly  tumbled 
down  the  bank  of  the  brook,  there  high  and 
steep,  and  were  immediately  lost  to  sight. 

Before  this  catastrophe  occurred,  the  other  In- 
dians and  the  assailants  met  at  the  fire  ;  and  each 
singling  out  his  opponent,  and  thinking  no  more 
of  the  rifles,  they  met  as  men  whose  only  busi- 
ness was  to  kill  or  to  die.  With  his  axe  flourished 
over  his  head,  Nathan  rushed  against  the  tallest 
and  foremost  enemy,  who,  as  he  advanced,  swung 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


523 


his  tomahawk,  in  the  act  of  throwing  it.  Their 
weapons  parted  from  their  hands  at  the  same 
moment,  and  with  perhaps  equal  accuracy  of  aim; 
but  meeting  with  a  crash  in  the  air,  they  fell  to- 
gether to  the  earth,  doing  no  harm  to  either. 
The  Indian  stooped  to  recover  his  weapon  ;  .but 
it  was  too  late  :  the  hand  of  Nathan  was  already 
upon  his  shoulder :  a  single  effort  of  his  vast 
strength  sufficed  to  stretch  the  savage  at  his  feet, 
and  holding  him  down  with  knee  and  hand, 
Nathan  snatched  up  the  nearest  axe,  "If  the  life 
of  thee  tribe  was  in  thee  bosom,"  he  cried  with  a 
look  of  unrelenting  fury,  of  hatred  deep  and 
ineffaceable,  "thee  should  die  the  dog's  death,  as 
thee  does  !"  And  with  a  blow  furiously  struck, 
and  thrice  repeated,  he  despatched  the  struggling 
savage  as  he  lay. 

He  rose,  brandishing  the  bloody  hatchet,  and 
looked  for  his  companion.  He  found  him  upon 
the  earth,  lying  upon  the  breast  of  his  antagonist 
whom  it  had  been  his  good  fortune  to  overmaster. 
Both  had  thrown  their  hatchets,  and  both  with- 
out effect,  Roland  because  skill  was  wanting,  and 
the  Shawnee  because,  in  the  act  of  throwing,  he- 
had  stumbled  over  the  body  of  one  of  his  comrades 
so  as  to  disorder  his  aim,  and  even  to  deprive  him 
of  his  footing.  Before  he  could  recover  himself, 
Roland  imitated  Nathan's  example,  and  threw 
himself  upon  the  unlucky  Indian — a  youth,  as  it 
appeared,  whose  strength,  perhaps  at  no  moment 
equal  to  his  own,  had  been  reduced  by  recent 
wounds, — and  found  that  he  had  him  entirely  at 
his  mercy.  This  circumstance,  and  the  knowl- 
edge that  the  other  Indians  were  now  overpowered, 
softened  the  soldier's  wrath  ;  and  when  Nathan, 
rushing  to  assist  him.  cried  aloud  to  him  to  move 
aside,  that  he  might  "  knock  the  assassin  knave's 
brains  out,"  Roland  replied  by  begging  Nathan 
to  spare  his  life.  "I  have  disarmed  him,"  he 
cried, — "  he  resists  no  more — don't  kill  him." 

"To  the  last  man  of  his  tribe  !"  cried  Nathan 
with  unexampled  ferocit}- ;  and  without  another 
word,  drove  the  hatchet  into  the  wretch's  brain. 

The  victors  now  leaping  to  their  feet,  looked 
round  for  the  fifth  savage  and  the  prisoner  ;  and 
directed  by  a  horrible  din  under  the  bank  of  the 
stream,  which  was  resounding  with  curses,  groans, 
heavy  blows,  and  the  plashing  of  water,  ran  to 
the  spot,  where  the  last  incident  of  battle  was 
revealed  to  them  in  a  spectacle  as  novel  as  it  was 
shocking.     The  Indian  lay  on  his  back  suffocating 


in  mire  and  water  ;  while  astride  his  body  sat  the 
late  prisoner,  covered  from  head  to  foot  with  mud 
and  gore,  furiously  plying  his  fists,  for  he  had  no 
other  weapons,  about  the  head  and  face  of  his  foe, 
his  blows  falling  like  sledge-hammers  or  batter- 
ing-rams, with  such  strength  and  fury  that  it 
seemed  impossible  any  one  of  them  could  fail  to 
crush  the  skull  to  atoms  ;  and  all  the  while  gar- 
nishing them  with  a  running  accompaniment  of 
oaths  and  maledictions  little  less  emphatic  and 
overwhelming.  ' '  You  switches  gentlemen,  do 
you,  you  exflunctified,  preditioned  rascal  ?  Ar'n't 
you  got  it,  you  niggur-in-law  to  old  Sattan  ?  you 
'tarnal  half-imp,  you  ?  H'yar's  for  you,  you  dog, 
and  thar's  for  3'ou,  you  dog's  dog  !  H'yar's  the 
way  I  pa}-  you  in  a  small-change  of  sogdolo- 
gers!" 

And  thus  he  cried,  until  Roland  and  Nathan 
seizing  him  by  the  shoulders,  dragged  him  by 
main  force  from  the  Indian,  whom,  as  was  found 
when  they  came  to  examine  the  body  afterwards, 
he  had  actually  pommelled  to  death,  the  skull 
having  been  beaten  in  as  with  bludgeons.  The 
victor  sprang  upon  his  feet,  and  roared  his  triumph 
aloud  : — "Ar'n't  I  licked  him  handsome  ! — Hur- 
rah for  Kentucky  and  old  Salt — Cock-a-doodle- 
doo  !" 

And  with  that,  turning  to  his  deliverers,  he 
displayed  to  their  astonished  eyes,  though  dis- 
figured by  blood  and  mire,  the  never-to-be-forgot- 
ten features  of  the  captain  of  horse-thieves,  Roar- 
ing Ralph  Stackpole. 


TWO  SWISS  HEROES. 

7TVE  are  indebted  to  the  genius  of  Schiller  for 
\XJ  the  beautiful  and  thrilling  story  of  William 
Tell.  Being  familiar  with  certain  patriotic  le- 
gends connected  with  the  struggle  for  the  inde- 
pendence of  Switzerland,  the  German  poet  wove 
them  in  with  deeds  of  real  heroes,  and  created  a 
fabric  of  fancy  which  for  many  years  was  accepted 
as  an  historical  reality.  It  is  cruel  to  demolish 
so  pleasant  a  faith,  but  critical  investigation  has 
established  the  fact  that  no  such  person  as  Wil- 
liam Tell  ever  existed  ;  he  was  merely  a  creation 
of  fancy  and  the  representative  of  Swiss  heroism 
and  the  spirit  of  freedom.  This  is  the  substance 
of  the  story  as  told  by  Schiller. 

William  Tell  was  a  mighty  hunter,  full  of 
the  spirit  of  independence  and  the  love  of  liberty, 
who  lived  in  peace  and   happiness  with  his  wife 


52-1 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AXD   THE 


and  children  at  Burgelen,  in  the  canton  of  Uri. 
This,  according  to  the  story,  was  about  1307.  At 
that  time  Switzerland  was  a  province  of  Austria, 
but  the  people  had  already  begun  their  struggle 
for  freedom,  and  Tell  was  one  of  the  leaders  in 
the  movement.  Gessler,  the  Austrian  bailiff  at 
Kussnacht.  for  the  purpose  of  making  a  display 
of  his    authoritv,    and    humiliating   the    people, 


WILLIAM    TKLL   SHOOTING   THE    APPLE    FROM   THE    HEAD   OF    HIS   SOX. 


placed  his  cap  upon  a  pole  in  the  market  place  of 
Altorf,  and  ordered  that  all  who  passed  by  should 
uncover  and  bow  down  to  it.  Tell  neglected  or 
refused  to  comply  with  the  bailiff's  order,  and  was 
arrested  and  sentenced  to  death.  During  the 
trial  he  attempted  to  excuse  his  disrespect  to  the 
cap  on  the  ground  that  he  was  dull  of  wit.  for 
otherwise,  said  he,  "  I  should   not  be   called  the 


tall,"  this  word  in  German  meaning  haif-witted. 
Before  the  time  appointed  for  the  execution, 
Gessler  learned  that  Tell  was  a  celebrated  marks- 
man with  the  bow  and  arrow,  and  sending  for 
him  he  offered  him  his  life  and  liberty  on  condi- 
tion that  he  would  shoot  an  apple  from  the  head 
of  his  little  son.  Tell  accepted  the  cruel  alterna- 
tive, but   determined,  that  if  he  failed,  or  harmed 

even  so  much 
as  one  hair 
of  the  head  of 
his  son,  Gess- 
ler should  pay 
the  penalty 
with  his  life. 

When  the 
time  arrived 
for  the  trial 
of  skill  upon 
w  h i  c  h  so 
much  depend- 
ed, a  bundle 
of  arrows  was 
handed  Tell 
from  which  to 
make  his  se- ' 
lection,  a  n  d 
he  a  d  r  o  i  1 1  y 
concealed  an 
extra  one  be- 
n  e  a  t  h  his 
coat.  Then 
with  a  fervent 
prayer  to  God 
f  o  r  strength 
of  nerve  and 
accuracy  o  f 
aim,  he  drew 
the  bow- 
string to  his 
shoulder,  and 
sent  the  ar- 
row whizzing 
without    the 


through   the    centre  of   the    apple 
slightest  hurt  to  his  beloved  child. 

The  spectators  applauded  the  extraordinary  feat, 
but  Gessler  refused  to  make  good  his  promise, 
and  accused  Tell  of  concealing  the  extra  arrow 
beneath  his  coat.  "Wiry  didst  thou  hide  the 
arrow?"  he  demanded.  "To  kill  thee  if  I  had 
harmed  my  son,"  boldly  replied  the  Swiss  patriot. 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


525 


For  this  he  was  again  placed  in  chains,  and  Gess- 
ler,  embarking  in  a  boat  for  Kussnacht,  took  Tell 
with  him.  While  the}-  were  on  the  way  a  storm 
arose,  which  threatened  to  destroy  the  vessel,  and 
the  crew,  alarmed  for  their  safety  implored  the 
bailiffto  release  Tell,  who  was  an  expert  pilot, 
and  let  him  steer  them  into  a  place  of  safety.  He 
complied,  and  as  they  neared  a  point  now  known 
as  "Tell's  rock,"  or  "Leap,"  he  sprang  ashore 
and  escaped.  The  storm  had  by  this  time  sub- 
sided, and  the  crew  brought  the  vessel  in  safety  to 
Brunnen ;  but  meanwhile,  Tell  had  gone  around 
by  land,  and  concealing  himself  in  the  woods, 
near  a  road  by  which  he  knew  the  party  would 
pass,  shot  and  mortally  wounded  Gessler  with  an 
arrow. 

The  fall  of  the  tyrant  was  the  signal  for  a  gen- 
eral uprising,  and  the  Austrians  were  driven  from 
the  country  and  their  castles  destroyed.  In  all 
these  movements  William  Tell  was  a  leading 
spirit,  encouraging  and  animating  his  people  by 
his  own  heroic  example.  In  1354,  according  to 
the  story,  he. was  drowned  in  the  Sachen,  while 
attempting  to  save  the  life  of  a  boy,  dying  as  he 
had  lived,  doing  good  to  others. 

Such  is  the  story  as  it  has  come  to  us  from  the 
writings  of  Schiller,  but  late  historical  investiga- 
tions have  shown  that  it  is  almost  purely  imagin- 
ary, embracing,  however,  what  might  be  termed 
a  crystallization  of  the  spirit  of  independence  as 
exemplified  in  the  Swiss  struggle  for  liberty. 

But  the  story  of  Tell  is  not  confined  alone  to 
Switzerland,  for  we  find  it  also  in  the  poetry  and 
romances  of  such  widely  separated  and  distinc- 
tive countries  as  Persia  and  Denmark.  About 
1 1 75  the  Persian  poet  Ferid  ed-Din  Attar,  re- 
corded the  deeds  of  a  king  of  his  country,  who, 
among  other  exploits,  shot  an  apple  from  the  head 
of  his  favorite  son  ;  while  in  the  "  Danish  Chroni- 
cle "  of  Saxo  Grammaticus,  written  about  11 70, 
we  learn  of  a  hero  named  Toko  who  shot  an  apple 
from  the  head  of  his  son,  by  order  of  King  Har- 
old Bluetooth.  The  story  has  been  even  traced  back 
to  the  mythological  legends  of  the  Northmen, 
where  it  is  related  that  Eigil,  a  celebrated  marks- 
man, was  compelled  by  king  Nidung  to  shoot  an 
apple  from  the  head  of  his  son.  In  each  of  the 
last  two  versions  the  incident  of  the  concealed 
arrow  is  mentioned  just  as  it  occurs  in  the  story  of 
William  Tell. 


The  Story  of  Arnold  Winkelried,  the  Swiss  Patriot. 

Arnold  Struth  von  Winkelried  was  a  Swiss 
peasant  and  patriot,  whose  heroism  and  devotion 
to  the  cause  of  his  country  decided  the  battle  of 
Sempach,  fought  on  the  9th  of  July,  1386.  This 
is  a  true  story,  and  therefore  all  the  more  inter- 
esting. Leopold,  Duke  of  Austria,  undertook  to 
further  the  interests  of  the  house  of  Hapsburg  by 
seizing  the  cantons  of  Switzerland  ,  but  the  Swiss, 
being  supported  by  the  free  cities  of  Suabia,  made 
a  gallant  fight  for  independence,  whereupon  Leo- 
pold determined  to  enforce  his  pretensions  by  an 
invasion  of  the  country .  In  conformity  with  this 
determination,  in  1386  he  placed  himself  at  the 
head  of  an  army  of  four  thousand  well  armed  and 
drilled  knights  and  soldiers,  and  marched  into 
the  Swiss  cantons.  The  people  of  the  latter 
country  were  able  to  muster  a  small  force  of  only 
thirteen  hundred  men  to  meet  this  formidable 
arm}',  and  even  these  were  without  experience  in 
war,  being  farmers,  fishermen  and  herdsmen,  and 
armed  with  primitive  pikes  and  battle-axes.  The 
two  armies  met  in  the  pass  of  Sempach,  and  as 
the  advantages  were  all  on  the  side  of  the  Aus- 
trians, it  appeared  inevitable  but  that  victors- 
should  perch  upon  their  banners.  As  the  lines  of 
Leopold  advanced  to  the  shock  of  battle,  they 
presented  a  solid  wall  of  steel-tipped  spears,  which 
it  seemed  impossible  for  the  Swiss  to  break  or 
disperse.  They  were  in  despair.  Defeat  and 
slaughter  stared  them  in  the  face.  The  glittering 
spears  of  the  advancing  Austrians  presented  an 
unbroken  and  apparently  impregnable  front. 

But  in  this  emergency  an  unknown  hero  ap- 
peared in  the  person  of  Arnold  of  Winkelried. 
"Comrades!"  he  shouted,  "remember  my  wife 
and  children  !"  and  then  springing  forward  with 
a  wild  cry  of  "Make  way  for  liberty!"  he 
gathered  within  his  outstretched  arms  as  many 
of  the  Austrian  spears  as  he  could  reach,  and 
pressed  them  against  his  devoted  bosom. 

Into  the  small  breach  thus  made  the  gallant 
Swiss  threw  themselves  with  an  energy  born  of 
desperation,  and  hewing  to  the  right  and  left 
with  their  battle  axes,  they  soon  made  an  open 
ing  in  the  Austrian  ranks  wide  enough  to  admit 
all  of  their  little  army.  Stimulated  by  the  spirit 
of  their  martyred  comrade  and  the  love  of  liberty, 
they  vigorously  pressed  their  advantage  until  the 
Austrians,  terrified   at   the  havoc  in  their  ranks, 


(526) 


THE   BEAUTIFUL   IN  THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


527 


turned  and  fled,  leaving  Leopold  and  seven  hun- 
dred of  his  knights  and  soldiers  dead  on  the 
field. 

It  was  a  glorious  victory,  and  decided  the  fate 
of  Switzerland,  for  never  again  were  the  brave 
mountaineers  reduced  to  such  extreme  peril. 


CHARMED  BY  A  RATTLESNAKE. 

BY  WILLIAM  GILMORE  SIMMS. 

mISS  BESS  MATTHEWS,  a  beautiful  young 
lady,  goes  into  the  woods  to  meet  her 
lover,  and  becomes  the  victim  of  a  fearful  adven- 
ture : 

' '  He  is  not  come, ' '  she  murmured,  half  disap- 
pointed, as  the  old  grove  of  oaks  with  all  its  reli- 
gious solemnity  of  shadow  lay  before  her.  She 
took  her  seat  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  the  growth  of  a 
century,  whose  thick  and  knotted  roots,  started 
from  their  sheltering  earth,  shot  even  above  the 
long  grass  around  them,  and  ran  in  irregular 
sweeps  for  a  considerable  distance  upon  the  sur- 
face. Here  she  sat  not  long,  for  her  mind  grew 
impatient  and  confused  with  the  various  thoughts 
crowding  upon  it — sweet  thoughts  it  may  be,  for 
she  thought  of  him  whom  she  loved — of  him 
almost  only  ;  and  of  the  long  hours  of  happy 
enjoyment  which  the  future  had  in  store.  Then 
came  the  fears,  following  fast  upon  the  hopes,  as 
the  shadows  follow  the  sunlight.  The  doubts  of 
existence — the  brevity  and  the  fluctuations  of 
life  ;  these  are  the  contemplations  even  of  happy 
love,  and  these  beset  and  saddened  her  ;  till,  start- 
ing up  in  that  dreamy  confusion  which  the  scene 
not  less  than  the  subject  of  her  musings  had  in- 
spired, she  glided  among  the  old  trees  scarce  con- 
scious of  her  movement. 

' '  He  does  not  come — he  does  not  come, ' '  she 
murmured,  as  she  stood  contemplating  the  thick 
copse  spreading  before  her,  and  forming  the  bar- 
rier which  terminated  the  beautiful  range  of  oaks 
which  constituted  the  grove.  How  beautiful  was 
the  green  and  garniture  of  that  little  copse  of 
wood.  The  leaves  were  thick,  and  the  grass 
around  lay  folded  over  and  over  in  bunches,  with 
here  and  there  a  wild  flower,  gleaming  from  its 
green,  and  making  cf  it  a  beautiful  carpet  of  the 
richest  and  most  various  texture.  A  small  tree 
rose  from  the  centre  of  a  clump  around  which  a 
wild  grape  gadded  luxuriantly  ;  and,  with  an 
Incoherent  sense  of  what  she  saw,  she  lingered 
before  the  little  cluster,  seeming  to  survey  that 


which,  though  it  seemed  to  fix  her  eye,  yet  failed 
to  fill  her  thought.  Her  mind  wandered — her 
soul  was  far  away  ;  and  the  objects  in  her  vision 
were  far  other  than  those  which  occupied  her 
imagination.  Things  grew  indistinct  beneath  her 
eye.  The  eye  rather  slept  than  saw.  The  musing 
spirit  had  given  holiday  to  the  ordinary  senses, 
and  took  no  heed  of  the  forms  that  rose,  and 
floated,  or  glided  away,  before  them.  In  this 
way,  the  leaf  detached  made  no  impression  upon 
the  sight  that  was  yet  bent  upon  it ;  she  saw  not 
the  bird,  though  it  whirled,  untroubled  by  a  fear, 
in  wanton  circles  around  her  head — and  the  black 
snake,  with  the  rapidity  of  an  arrow,  darted  over 
her  path  without  arousing  a  single  terror  in  the 
form  that  otherwise  would  have  shivered  at  its 
mere  appearance.  And  yet,  though  thus  indis- 
tinct were  all  things  around  her  to  the  musing  eye 
of  the  maiden,  her  eye  was  yet  singularly  fixed — 
fastened  as  it  were,  to  a  single  spot — gathered  and 
controlled  by  a  single  object,  and  glazed,  appar- 
ently, beneath  a  curious  fascination.  Before  the 
maiden  rose  a  little  clump  of  bushes — bright,  tan- 
gled leaves  flaunting  wide  in  glossiest  green,  with 
vines  trailing  over  them,  thickly  decked  with  blue 
and  crimson  flowers.  Her  eye  communed  vacantly 
with  these  ;  fastened  by  a  starlike  shining  glance 
— a  subtle  ray,  that  shot  out  from  the  circle  of 
green  leaves — seeming  to  be  their  very  eye — and 
sending  out  a  lurid  lustre  that  seemed  to  stream 
across  the  space  between,  and  find  its  way  into 
her  own  eyes.  Very  piercing  and  beautiful  was 
that  subtle  brightness,  of  the  sweetest,  strangest 
power.  And  now  the  leaves  quivered  and  seemed 
to  float  away,  only  to  return,  and  the  vines  waved 
and  swung  around  in  fantastic  mazes,  unfolding 
ever-changing  varieties  of  form  and  color  to  her 
gaze ;  but  the  star-like  eye  was  ever  steadfast, 
bright  and  gorgeous  gleaming  in  their  midst,  and 
still  fastened,  with  strange  fondness,  upon  her 
own.  How  beautiful,  with  wondrous  intensity, 
did  it  gleam,  and  dilate,  growing  larger  and  more 
lustrous  with  every  ray  which  it  sent  forth.  And 
her  own  glance  became  intense,  fixed  also  ;  but 
with  a  dreaming  sense  that  conjured  up  the 
wildest  fancies,  terribly  beautiful,  that  took  her 
soul  away  from  her,  and  wrapt  it  about  as  with  a 
spell.  She  would  have  fled,  she  would  have  cried 
out ;  but  she  had  not  power  to  move.  The  will 
was  wanting  to  her  flight.  She  felt  that  she 
could  have  bent  forward  to  pluck   the  gem-like 


52$ 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


thing  from  the  bosom  of  the  leaf  in  which  it 
seemed  to  grow,  and  which  it  irradiated  with  its 
bright  white  gleam  ;  but  ever  as  she  aimed  to 
stretch  forth  her  hand,  and  bend  forward,  she 
heard  a  rush  of  wings,  and  a  shrill  scream  from 
the  tree  above  her — such  a  scream  as  the  mocking 
bird  makes,  when,  angrily,  it  raises  its  dusky 
crest,  and  flaps  its  wings  furiously  against  its 
slender  sides.  Such  a  scream  seemed  like  a  warn- 
ing, and  though  yet  uuawakened  to  full  conscious- 
ness, it  startled  her  and  forbade  her  effort.  More 
than  once  in  her  survey  of  this  strange  object, 
had  she  heard  that  shrill  note,  and  still  had  it  car- 
ried to  her  ear  the  same  note  of  warning,  and  to 
her  mind  the  same  vague  consciousness  of  an  evil 
presence.  But  the  star-like  eye  was  yet  upon  her 
own — a  small,  bright  eye,  quick  like  that  of  a  bird, 
now  steady  in  its  place,  and  observant  seemingly 
only  of  hers,  now  darting  forward  with  all  the 
clustering  leaves  about  it,  and  shooting  up  towards 
her,  as  if  wooing  her  to  seize.  At  another  mo- 
ment, riveted  to  the  vine  which  lay  around  it,  it 
would  whirl  round  and  round,  dazzlingly  bright 
and  beautiful,  even  as  a  torch,  waving  hurriedly 
by  night  in  the  hands  of  some  playful  boy  ;  but, 
in  all  this  time,  the  glance  was  never  taken  from 
her  own — there  it  grew,  fixed — a  very  principle 
of  light — and  such  a  light — a  subtle,  burning, 
piercing,  fascinating  gleam,  such  as  gathers  in 
vapor  above  the  old  grave,  and  binds  us  as  we 
look — shooting,  darting  directly  into  her  e3*e, 
dazzling  her  gaze,  defeating  its  sense  of  discrimi- 
nation, and  confusing  strangely  that  of  percep- 
tion. 

She  felt  dizzy,  for  as  she  looked,  a  cloud  of 
colors,  bright,  gay,  various  colors,  floated  and 
hung  like  so  much  drapery  around  the  single  ob- 
ject that  had  so  secured  her  attention  and  spell- 
bound her  feet.  Her  limbs  felt  momentarily  more 
and  more  insecure — her  blood  grew  cold,  and  she 
seemed  to  feel  the  gradual  freeze  of  vein  through- 
out her  person.  At  that  moment  a  rustling  was 
heard  in  the  branches  of  the  tree  beside  her,  and 
the  bird,  which  had  repeatedly  uttered  a  single 
cry  above  her,  as  it  were  of  warning,  flew  away 
from  his  station  with  a  scream  more  piercing  than 
ever.  This  movement  had  the  effect,  for  which 
it  really  seemed  intended,  of  -bringing  back  to  her 
a  portion  of  the  consciousness  she  seemed  so 
totally  to  have  been  deprived  of  before.  She 
strove  to  move  from  before  the  beautiful  but  terri- 


ble presence,  but  for  a  while  she  strove  in  vain. 
The  rich  star-like  glance  still  riveted  her  own,  and 
the  subtle  fascination  kept  her  bound.  The  men- 
tal energies,  however,  with  the  moment  of  their 
greatest  trial,  now  gathered  suddenly  to  her  aid ; 
and,  with  a  desperate  effort,  but  with  a  feeling 
still  of  most  annoying  uncertainty  and  dread,  she 
succeeded  partially  in  the  attempt,  and  threw  her 
arms  backwards,  her  hands  grasping  the  neigh- 
boring tree,  feeble,  tottering,  and  depending  upon 
it  for  that  support  which  her  limbs  almost  entirely 
denied  her.  With  her  movement,  however,  came 
the  full  development  of  the  powerful  spell  and 
dreadful  mystery  before  her.  As  her  feet  re- 
ceded, though  but  a  single  pace,  to  the  tree 
against  which  she  now  rested,  the  audibly  articu- 
lated ring,  like  that  of  a  watch  when  wound  up 
with  the  verge  broken,  announced  the  nature  of 
that  splendid  yet  dangerous  presence,  in  the  form 
of  the  monstrous  rattlesnake,  now  but  a  few  feet 
before  her,  lying  coiled  at  the  bottom  of  a  beauti- 
ful shrub,  with  which,  to  her  dreaming  eye,  many 
of  its  own  glorious  hues  had  become  associated. 
She  was,  at  length,  conscious  enough  to  perceive 
and  to  feel  all  her  danger  ;  but  terror  had  denied 
her  the  strength  necessary  to  fly  from  her  dreadful 
enemy.  There  still  the  eye  glared  beautifully 
bright  and  piercing  upon  her  own  ;  and,  seemingly 
in  a  spirit  of  sport,  the  insidious  reptile  slowly 
unwound  himself  from  his  coil,  but  only  to  gather 
himself  up  again  into  his  muscular  rings,  his  great 
flat  head  rising  in  the  midst,  and  slowly  nodding, 
as  it  were,  towards  her,  the  eye  still  peering  deeply 
into  her  own  ;  the  rattle  still  slightly  ringing  at 
intervals,  and  giving  forth  that  paralyzing  sound, 
which,  once  heard,  is  remembered  forever.  The 
reptile  all  this  while  appeared  to  be  conscious  of, 
and  to  sport  with,  while  seeking  to  excite  her  ter- 
rors. Now,  with  his  flat  head,  distended  mouth, 
and  curving  neck,  would  it  dart  forward  its  long 
form  towards  her — its  fatal  teeth,  unfolding  on 
either  side  of  its  upper  jaws,  seeming  to  threaten 
her  with  instantaneous  death,  whilst  its  powerful 
eye  shot  forth  glances  of  that  fatal  power  of  fascin- 
ation, malignantly  bright,  which,  by  paralyzing, 
with  a  novel  form  of  terror  and  of  beauty,  may 
readil}'  account  for  the  spell  it  possesses  of  bind- 
ing the  feet  of  the  timid,  and  denying  to  fear  even 
the  privilege  of  flight.  Could  she  have  fled ! 
She  felt  the  necessity  ;  but  the  power  of  her  limbs 
was  gone  !  and  there  still  it  lay,  coiling  and  an- 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


529 


coiling,  its  arching  neck  glittering  like  a  ring  of 
brazed  copper,  bright  and  lurid  ;  and  the  dreadful 
beauty  of  its  eye  still  fastened,  eagerly  contem- 
plating the  victim,  while  the  pendulous  rattle  still 
rang  the  death  note,  as  if  to  prepare  the  conscious 
mind  for  the  fate  which  is  momently  approaching 
to  the  blow.  Meanwhile  the  stillness  became 
death-like  with  all  surrounding  objects.  The 
bird  had  gone  with  its  scream  and  rush.  The 
breeze  was  silent.  The  vines  ceased  to  wave. 
The  leaves  faintly  quivered  on  their  stems.  The 
serpent  once  more  lay  still ;  but  the  eye  was  never 
once  turned  away  from  the  victim.  Its  corded 
muscles  are  all  in  coil.  They  have  but  to  unclasp 
suddenly,  and  the  dreadful  folds  will  be  upon  her, 
its  full  length,  and  the  fatal  teeth  will  strike,  and 
the  deadly  venom  which  they  secrete  will  mingle 
with  the  life-blood  in  her  veins. 

The  terrified  damsel,  her  full  consciousness 
restored,  but  not  her  strength,  feels  all  the  danger. 
She  sees  that  the  sport  of  the  terrible  reptile  is  at 
an  end.  She  cannot  now  mistake  the  horrid  ex- 
pression of  its  eye.  She  strives  to  scream,  but 
the  voice  dies  away,  a  feeble  gurgling  in  her 
throat.  Her  tongue  is  paralyzed  ;  her  lips  are 
sealed — once  more  she  strives  for  flight,  but  her 
limbs  refuse  their  office.  She  has  nothing  left  of 
life  but  its  fearful  consciousness.  It  is  in  her 
despair,  that,  a  last  effort,  she  succeeds  to  scream, 
a  single  wild  cry,  forced  from  her  by  the  accumu- 
lated agony ;  she  sinks  down  upon  the  grass 
before  her  enemy — her  eyes,  however,  still  open, 
and  still  looking  upon  those  which  he  directs  for 
ever  upon  them.  She  sees  him  approach — now 
advancing,  now  receding — now  swelling  in  every 
part  with  something  of  anger,  while  his  neck  is 
arched  beautifully  like  that  of  a  wild  horse  under 
the  curb  ;  until  at  length,  tired  as  it  were  of  play, 
like  the  cat  with  its  victim,  she  sees  the  neck 
growing  larger  and  becoming  completely  bronzed 
as  about  to  strike — the  huge  jaws  unclosing  almost 
directly  above  her,  the  long  tubulated  fang  charged 
with  venom,  protruding  from  the  cavernous  mouth 
— and  she  sees  no  more.  Insensibility  came  to 
her  aid,  and  she  lay  almost  lifeless  under  the  very 
folds  of  the  monster. 

In  that  moment  the  copse  parted,  and  an  arrow, 
piercing  the  monster  through  and  through  the 
neck,  bore  his  head  forward  to  the  ground,  along- 
side the  maiden,  while  his  spiral  extremities,  now 
unfolding  in  his  own  agony,  were  actually,  in 
34 


part,  writhing  upon  her  person.  The  arrow  came 
from  the  fugitive  Occonestoga,  who  had  fortu- 
nately reached  the  spot  in  season,  on  his  way  to 
the  Block  House.  He  rushed  from  the  copse  as 
the  snake  fell,  and,  with  a  stick,  fearlessly  ap- 
proached him  where  he  lay  tossing  in  agony  upon 
the  grass.  Seeing  him  advance,  the  courageous 
reptile  made  an  effort  to  regain  his  coil,  shaking 
the  fearful  rattle  violently  at  every  evolution 
which  he  took  for  that  purpose  ;  but  the  arrow, 
completely  passing  through  his  neck,  opposed  an 
unyielding  obstacle  to  the  endeavor ;  and  finding 
it  hopeless,  and  seeing  the  new  enemy  about  to 
assault  him,  with  something  of  the  spirit  of  the 
white  man  under  like  circumstances,  he  turned 
desperately  round,  and  striking  his  charged  fangs, 
so  that  they  were  riveted  in  the  wound  they  made, 
into  a  susceptible  part  of  his  own  body,  he  threw 
himself  over  with  a  single  convulsion,  and,  a 
moment  after,  lay  dead  beside  the  utterly  uncon- 
scious maiden. 


A  KITCHEN   FIRE-SIDE  IN   THE  OLD 
DOMINION. 

BY   WILLIAM    A.    CARRUTHERS. 

IMAGINE  to  yourself,  reader,  a  fire-place  large 
enough  to  roast  an  ox  whole,  and  within 
which  a  common  wagon  load  of  wood  might  be 
absorbed  in  such  a  speedy  manner  as  to  horrify 
one  of  our  city  economical  housewives — though 
now  it  was  late  in  summer,  and  of  course  no  such 
pile  of  combustibles  enlivened  the  scene — besides, 
it  was  night,  and  the  culinary  operations  of  the 
day  were  over.  A  few  blazing  fagots  of  rich  pine, 
however,  still  threw  a  lurid  glare  over  the  murky 
atmosphere,  and  here  and  there  sat  the  several 
domestics  of  the  establishment ;  some  nodding 
until  they  almost  tumbled  into  the  fire,  but 
speedily  regaining  the  perpendicular  without  ever 
opening  their  eyes,  or  giving  any  evidence  of  dis- 
composure, except  a  loud  snort,  perhaps,  and  then 
dozing  away  again  as  comfortably  as  ever.  Others 
were  conversing  without  exhibiting  any  symptoms 
of  weariness  or  drowsiness. 

In  one  corner  of  the  fire-place  sat  old  Sylvia,  a 
Moor,  who  had  accompanied  the  father  of  the 
governor  (a  British  naval  officer)  all  the  way  from 
Africa,  the  birth-place  of  his  excellency.  She 
had  straight  hair,  which  was  now  white  as  the 
driven  snow,  and  hung  in  long  matted  locks  about 
her  shoulders,    not  unlike   a  bunch   of  candles. 


530 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


She  was  hy  the  negroes  called  outlandish,  and 
talked  a  sort  of  jargon  entirely  different  from  the 
hroken  lingo  of  that  race.  She  was  a  general 
scape-goat  for  the  whole  plantation,  and  held  in 
•especial  dread  by  the  Ethiopian  tribe.  She  was 
not  asleep,  nor  dozing,  but  sat  rocking  her  body 
back  and  forth,  without  moving  the  stool,  and 
humming  a  most  mournful  and  monotonous  ditty, 
all  the  while  throwing  her  large  stealth}'  eyes 
around  the  room.  In  the  opposite  corner  sat  a 
regular  hanger-on  of  the  establishment,  and  one 
of  those  who  kept  a  greedy  eye  always  directed 
towards  the  fleshpots,  whenever  he  kept  them 
open  at  all.  His  name  was  June,  and  he  wore  an 
old  cast-off  coat  of  the  governor's,  the  waist- 
buttons  of  which  just  touched  his  hips,  while  the 
skirts  hung  down  to  the  ground  in  straight  lines, 
or  rather  in  the  rear  of  the  perpendicular,  as  if 
afraid  of  the  constant  kicking  which  his  heels 
kept  up  against  them  when  walking.  His  legs 
were  bandied,  and  set  so  much  in  the  middle  of 
the  feet  as  to  render  it  rather  a  difficult  matter  to 
tell  which  end  went  foremost.  His  face  was  of 
the  true  African  stamp  :  large  mouth,  flat  nose, 
and  a  brow  overhung  with  long,  plaited  queues, 
like  so  many  whip-cords  cut  off  short  and  even  all 
round,  and  now  quite  grey.  The  expression  of 
his  countenance  was  full  of  mirthfulness  and 
good  humor,  mixed  with  just  enough  of  shrewd- 
ness to  redeem  it  from  utter  vacuity.  There  was 
a  slight  degree  of  cunning  twinkled  from  his 
small  terrapin-looking  eye,  but  wholly  swallowed 
up  by  his  large  mouth,  kept  constantly  on  the 
stretch.  He  had  the  run  of  the  kitchen  ;  and, 
for  these  perquisites  was  expected  and  required  to 
perform  no  other  labor  than  running  and  riding 
errands  to  and  from  the  capital ;  and  it  is  because 
he  will  sometimes  be  thus  employed  that  we  have 
been  so  particular  in  describing  him,  and  because 
he  was  the  banjo  player  to  all  the  small  fry  at 
Temple  Farm.  He  had  his  instrument  across  his 
lap  on  the  evening  in  question,  his  hands  in  the 
very  attitude  of  playing,  his  eyes  closed,  and 
everj-  now  and  then,  as  he  rose  up  from  a  pro- 
found inclination  to  old  Somnus,  twang,  twang, 
went  the  strings,  accompanied  by  some  negro 
doggerel  just  lazily  let  slip  through  his  lips  in  half 
utterance,  such  as  the  following  : 

Massa  is  a  wealthy  man,  and  all  de  nebors  knows  it ; 
Keeps  good  liquors  in  his  house,  and  always  says — here 
goes  it. 


The  last  words  were  lost  in  another  declination 
of  the  head,  until  catgut  and  voice  became  merged 
in  a  grunt  or  snort,  when  he  would  start  up, 
perhaps,  strain  his  eyes  wide  open,  and  go  on 
again  : 

Sister  Sally's  mighty  sick,  oh  what  de  debil  ails  her, 
She  used  to  eat  good  beef  and  beans,  but  now  her  stomach 
fails  her. 

The  last  words  spun  out  again  into  a  drawl  to 
accompany  a  monotonous  symphony,  until  all 
were  lost  together,  by  his  head  being  brought  in 
wonderful  propinquity  to  his  heels  in  the  ashes. 

While  old  June  thus  kept  up  a  running  accom- 
paniment to  Sylvia's  Moorish  monotony,  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  fire,  the  front  of  the  circle  was 
occupied  by  more  important  characters. 

Old  Essex,  the  major-domo  of  the  establishment, 
sat  there  in  all  the  panoply  of  state.  He  was  a 
tall,  dignified  old  negro,  with  his  hair  queued  up 
behind  and  powdered  all  over,  and  not  a  little  of 
it  sprinkled  upon  the  red  collar  of  his  otherwise 
scrupulously  clean  livery.  He  wore  small-clothes 
and  knee-buckles,  and  was  altogether  a  fine  speci- 
men of  the  gentlemanly  old  family  servant.  He 
felt  himself  just  as  much  a  part  and  parcel  of  the 
governor's  family  as  if  he  had  been  related  to  it 
by  blood.  The  manners  of  Essex  were  very  far 
above  his  mental  culture ;  this  no  one  could  per- 
ceive by  a  slight  and  superficial  observation,  be- 
cause he  had  acquired  a  most  admirable  tact  (like 
some  of  his  betters)  by  which  he  never  travelled 
beyond  his  depth  ;  added  to  this,  whatever  he  did 
say  was  in  the  most  appropriate  manner,  narrowly 
discerning  nice  shades  of  character,  and  suiting 
his  replies  to  every  one  who  addressed  him.  For 
instance,  were  a  gentleman  to  alight  at  the  hall 
door  and  meet  old  Essex,  he  would  instantly  re- 
ceive the  attentions  due  to  a  gentleman  ;  whereas, 
were  a  gentlemanly  dressed  man  to  come,  who 
feared  that  his  whole  importance  might  not  be 
impressed  upon  this  important  functionary',  Essex 
would  instantly  elevate  his  dignity  in  exact  pro- 
portion to  the  fussiness  of  his  visitor.  Alas  !  the 
days  of  Essex's  class  are  fast  fading  away. 

On  the  present  occasion,  though  presumed  to 
be  not  upon  his  dignity,  the  old  major  sat  with 
folded  arms  and  a  benignant  but  yet  contemptu- 
ous smile  playing  upon  his  features,  illuminated 
as  they  were  by  the  lurid  fire-light,  while  Martin 
the  carpenter  told  one  of  the  most  marvellous  and 
wonder-stirring  stories  of  the  headless  corpse  ever 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


531 


heard  within  these  walls,  teeming,  as  they  were, 
with  the  marvellous.  Essex  had  often  heard 
stories  first  told  over  the  gentlemen's  wine,  and 
then  the  kitchen  version,  and  of  course  knew 
how  to  estimate  them  exactly  :  now  that  before- 
mentioned  incredulous  smile  began  to  spread 
until  he  was  forced  to  laugh  outright,  as  Martin 
capped  the  climax  of  his  tale  of  horror,  by  some 
supernatural  appearance  of  blue  flames  over  the 
grave.  Not  so  the  other  domestics,  male  and  fe- 
male, clustering  around  his  chair ;  they  were 
"worked  up  to  the  highest  pitch  of  the  marvellous. 
Even  old  June  ceased  to  twang  his  banjo,  and  at 
length  got  his  eyes  wide  open  as  the  carpenter 
came  to  the  sage  conclusion,  that  the  place  would 
be  haunted. 

On  this  occasion  the  story-teller  had  worked 
his  audience  up  to  such  a  pitch  of  terror,  that  not 
one  individual  dared  to  stir  for  his  life,  every  one 
seeming  to  apprehend  an  instant  apparition.  The 
effect  on  their  terrified  imaginations  was  not  a 
little  heightened  by  the  storm  raging  without. 
The  distant  thunder  had  been  some  time  reverber- 
ating from  the  shores  of  the  bay,  mingling  with 
the  angry  roar  of  the  waves  as  they  splashed  and 
foamed  against  the  beach,  breaking  and  then  re- 
treating for  a  fresh  onset. 


COTTON     MATHER     AND    THE    "POSSESSED" 
MAIDEN. 

THE  most  celebrated  person  of  his  age  in 
America  was  Cotton  Mather.  He  wras  once 
revered  as  a  saint,  and  he  is  still  regarded  as  a  man 
of  great  natural  abilities,  and  profound  and  uni- 
versal learning.  It  is  true  that  he  had  much 
scholarship  ;  he  could  read  mam-  languages,  and 
his  memory  was  so  retentive  that  he  rarely  forgot 
the  most  trivial  circumstance  ;  but  he  had  too 
little  genius  to  comprehend  great  truths,  and  his 
attainments  were  for  the  most  part  rather  curious 
than  valuable.  In  all  his  long  life  he  was  a 
model  of  industry  ;  and,  besides  his  three  hun- 
dred and  eighty-two  printed  works,  he  left  many 
manuscripts,  of  which  the  largest  is  called  "Illus- 
trations of  the  Sacred  Scriptures,"  on  which  he 
labored  daily  for  more  than  thirty  years.  It  is  a 
mere  compilation  of  facts  and  opinions,  from  mul- 
titudinous sources,  and  embraces  nothing  that 
would  be  valuable  to  the  modern  scholar.  His 
minor  works  are  nearly  all  forgotten,  even  by  the 
antiquaries.  The  "Magnalia  Christi  Americana " 


is  preserved  rather  as  a  curiosity  than  as  an  au- 
thority ;  for  recent  investigations  have  shown  that 
his  statements  are  not  to  be  relied  on  where  he 
had  any  interest  in  misrepresenting  facts  or  charac- 
ters. His  style  abounds,  more  than  that  of  any 
of  his  contemporaries,  with  puerilities,  puns,  and 
grotesque  conceits.  But  it  is  questionable  whether 
his  intellectual  was  not  better  than  his  moral 
character  ;  for  though  of  all  men  he  was  the  most 
observant  of  forms,  and  ' '  deemed  himself  starved 
unless  he  fasted  once  a  mouth,"  and  "found  as- 
tonishing entertainment"  in  "spending  three 
days  together,  without  food,  in  knocking  at  the 
door  of  heaven,"  he  was  still  without  humility 
or  charity — ambitious,  intriguing  and  unscrupu- 
lous. He  believed  in  witchcraft,  a  circumstance 
for  which  he  is  not  perhaps  to  be  blamed,  since 
no  amount  of  learning  or  integrity  could  exempt 
one  from  credulity  ;  but  after  fanning  into  a  flame 
the  terrible  superstition  on  this  subject,  when  the 
frenzy  was  over  he  hypocritically  endeavored  to 
persuade  the  people  that  instead  of  encouraging 
the  proceedings,  his  influence  and  exertions  had 
been  on  the  side  of  caution  and  forbearance.  Fail- 
ing of  this,  he  attempted  to  justify  his  conduct  by 
inventing  various  personal  histories,  to  show  that 
there  had  been  good  cause  for  the  atrocious  perse- 
cutions. The  devil  certainly  had  much  more 
power  over  Mather  and  the  civil  judges  than 
over  an3T  of  the  unhappy  convicts,  the  bodies  of 
some  of  whom  were  treated  even  after  death 
with  a  brutality  that  might  have  appalled  the 
"savages"  who  were  spectators  of  these  "civil- 
ized" tragedies.  Mather  at  one  time  kept 
one  of  the  supposed  witches  in  his  house,  to 
observe  closely  her  actions.  She  was  a  young 
girl,  who  in  sport  or  wantonness  attempted  to 
practise  upon  his  credulity.  "The  manner  in 
which  she  played  with  his  religious  prejudices 
shows  considerable  art.  A  Quaker's  book  which 
was  then  one  of  the  greatest  of  abominations,  was 
brought  to  her,  and  she  read  wrhole  pages  in  it, 
with  the  exception  of  the  names  of  the  Deity  and 
the  Saviour,  which  she  was  not  able  to  speak. 
Such  books  as  she  might  have  read  with  profit, 
she  was  not  permitted  to  open  ;  or,  if  she  was 
urged  to  read  in  her  Bible  or  Catechism,  she  was 
immediately  taken  with  contortions.  On  the  con- 
trary, she  could  read  in  a  jest-book  without  the 
least  difficulty,  and  actually  seemed  to  enjoy  it. 
Popish  books  she  was  permitted  to  read  at  plea- 


532 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


sure,  but  a  work  against  the  Catholics,  she  might 
not  touch."  One  gleam  of  suspicion  seemed  to 
shoot  over  his  mind  on  one  occasion  ;  for  he  says, 
"  I,  considering  there  might  be  a  snare  in  it,  put 
a  stop  to  this  fanciful  business.  Only  I  could  not 
but  be  amazed  at  one  thing  ;  a  certain  prayer- 
book,  [the  Episcopal  doubtless,]  being  brought 
her,  she  not  only  could  read  it  very  well,  but  also 
did  read  a  large  part  of  it  over,  calling  it  her 
Bible,  and  putting  more  than  ordinary  respect 
upon  it.  If  she  were  going  into  her  tortures,  at 
the  tender  of  this  book,  she  would  recover  herself 
to  read  it.  Only  when  she  came  to  the  Lord's 
prayer,  now  and  then  occurring  in  that  book,  she 
would  have  her  eyes  put  out ;  so  that  she  must 
turn  over  a  new  leaf,  and  then  she  could  read 
again.  Whereas  also  there  are  scriptures  in  that 
book,  she  could  read  them  there  ;  but  if  any 
showed  her  the  same  scriptures  in  the  Bible  itself, 
she  should  sooner  die  than  read  them.  And  she 
was  likewise  made  unable  to  read  the  Psalms  in 
an  ancient  metre,  which  this  prayer-book  had  in 
the  same  volume  with  it."  It  was  not  very  sur- 
prising, that  she  should  after  a  time  lose  her  ven- 
eration for  him.  Accordingly  he  remarks,  that, 
though  her  carriage  had  been  dutiful,  "it  was 
afterwards  with  a  sauciness,  which  I  was  not  used 
to  be  treated  withal."  She  would  knock  at  his 
study  door,  telling  him  that  some  one  below 
would  be  glad  to  see  him  ;  when  he  had  taken 
the  trouble  to  go  down,  and  scolded  her  for  the 
falsehood,  she  would  say,  "  Mrs.  Mather  is  always 
glad  to  see  you."  "She  would  call  out  to  him 
with  numberless  impertinencies."  Having  deter- 
mined to  give  a  public  account  of  her  case,  in  a 
sermon  to  his  congregation,  she  was  troubled  at 
it,  thinking  it  not  unlikely  that  sharper  eyes  than 
his  might  be  turned  upon  her.  She  made  main- 
attempts  to  prevent  it,  by  threatening  him  with 
the  vengeance  of  the  spirits,  till  he  was  almost 
out  of  patience,  and  exorcized  them  in  Latin, 
Greek,  and  Hebrew.  All  these  were  perfectly  in- 
telligible to  them;  but  "the  Indian  language 
they  did  not  seem  so  well  to  understand."  One 
part  of  the  system  of  this  artful  young  creature 
was  to  persuade  him,  that  he  was  under  the 
special  protection  of  Heaven,  so  that  spells  could 
have  no  power  over  him.  When  he  went  to 
prayer,  ' '  the  demone  would  throw  her  on  the 
floor,  where  she  would  whistle,  and  sing,  and 
yell,  to  drown  the  voice  of  prayer  ;  and  she  would 


fetch  blows  with  her  fist  and  kicks  with  her  foot 
at  the  man  that  prayed.  But  still  her  fist  and 
foot  would  recoil,  when  within  an  inch  or  two  of 
him,  as  if  rebounding  against  a  wall."  This 
powerful  appeal  to  his  vanity  was  not  lost  upon 
him.  It  made  him  more  solicitous  than  ever  to 
patronize  the  delusion. 


ELIOT'S  INDIAN  BIBLE. 

IN  1663  John  Eliot,  the  learned  missionary, 
completed  the  translation  of  the  Bible  into 
the  Indian  dialect,  and  it  was  published  the  same 
year,  with  this  title  : 

"Mamusse  Wunneetupanatamwe  LTp-Biblum  God 
naneeswe  Kukkoue-Testament  kah  wonk  Wuxu  Testa- 
ment. Nequoshinnumuk  nashpe  Wuttinneumak  Christ 
noli  asoowesit  John  Eliot.  Naliohteou  ontehetoe  Prin- 
tewoonmk.  Cambridge :  rrinteuoop  naslipe  Samuel 
Green." 

Several  editions  of  this  Bible  were  printed,  but 
it  is  believed  that  at  this  time  there  are  no  com- 
plete copies  in  existence.  As  a  specimen  of  the 
translation,  a  copy  of  the  Lord's  prayer  will  be 
interesting  : 

THE  eord's  prayer,  Matt.  vi.  9,  &e. 

Nooshun  kesukqut,   qut-        Our  Father  which  art  in 
tianatamimach        koowesu-     heaven,    hallowed    be   Thy 
onk.     Peyaumooutch    kuk-     name.    Thy  kingdom  come, 
ketassootamoonk,      kukke-    Thy  will   be  done  in  earth 
nantoomoonk    ne    11    nach     as   it    is    in    heaven.     Give 
ohkeit      neane      kesukqut.     us  this  day  our  daily  bread. 
Nummeetsuongash     aseke-     And  forgive   us  our   debts, 
sukokish  assamaiineau    ye-     as  we  forgive   our   debtors, 
dyeu    kesukod.      Kah    ah-     And  lead  us  not  into  tempt- 
quontamaiinneau     humma-     atiou,  but   deliver  us    from 
tcheongash,  neane  matche-    evil :  For  thine  is  the  king- 
uehukqueagig     nutahquon-     dom,    the   power,    and   the 
tammounonog.        A  h  q  u  e     glory  for  ever.     Amen, 
sagkompagunaiinnean       en 
qutchhuaoonganit,      w  e  b  e 
pohquohwussinean      wutch 
matchitut.       Newutche  ku- 
tahtaun      ketassootamonk, 
kah     nienuhkesuonk,     kah 
sohsumoonk  micheme.     A- 
mcn. 


GOETHE'S  ARREST  AS  A  SORCERER. 

COWARDS  the  close  of  the  last  century,  a 
traveller,  modest  in  his  appearance  and  in 
his  baggage,  alighted  at  the  principal  tavern  of 
Wurtzburg,  a  small  city  of  Germany,  where  his 
person   soon  had   the   privilege   of  exciting  the 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


533 


curiosity  of  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  place.  It 
is  true  that  the  stranger  owed  to  the  mystery  of 
his  conduct  this  remarkable  excitement. 

At  first  there  might  be  discovered,  notwith- 
standing the  simplicity  of  his  dress,  something 
that  betrayed  the  man  of  distinction.  Although 
not  a  youth,  he  wore  his  hair  long,  like  the  stu- 
dents of  the  university,  and  his  pale  and  melan- 
choly visage  wore  even  while  he  smiled  a  sombre 
cast.  The  next  day  after  his  arrival,  instead  of 
asking  his  hostess,  as  all  other  travellers  did, 
either  the  address  of  some  citizen,  to  present  to 
him  his  letters,  or  where  the  curiosities  and  anti- 
quities of  the  city  might  be  seen,  he  had  gone 
out  without  saying  a  word.  He  had  been  walk- 
ing all  day,  as  his  dusty  clothes  testified,  and  did 
not  return  until  supper  time.  The  day  following 
he  did  the  same  thing.  A  shepherd  boy  said  that 
he  saw  him  walking  rapidly  along  the  banks  of 
the  Rhine,  then  stopping  suddenly  and  gesticulat- 
ing, and  throwing  his  arms  about  like  one  pos- 
sessed ;  and  the  young  girls  passed  close  to  him 
without  his  paying  an}-  attention  to  them. 

All  these  things,  it  must  be  confessed,  were  even 
more  than  enough  to  awaken  conjectures  as  to 
the  stranger.  All  that  the  hostess  could  say  of 
him  was,  that  he  was  a  very  sober,  quiet  man, 
always  satisfied  with  what  was  set  before  him. 
Curiosity,  however,  continued  to  increase.  It  was 
remarked  that  the  unknown  man  went  immedi- 
ately to  his  chamber  after  supper,  but  did  not  go 
to  bed  ;  and  some  of  the  family,  who  happened  to 
be  awake  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  saw  a  light 
in  his  chamber.  One  of  the  3-oungest  servants 
came  running  down  stairs  one  evening,  terribly 
frightened,  and  rushed  into  the  hall,  where  were 
her  mistress  and  two  or  three  neighbors.  She 
solemnly  protested  that  the  stranger  was  talking 
earnestly  with  some  one  in  his  chamber — "al- 
though no  one  but  he  had  entered — by  the  door 
at  least,"  added  she.  This  made  the  auditors 
tremble.  The  little  hussy  was  scolded  soundly 
by  her  mistress  for  having  listened  at  the  lodger's 
door,  and  the  next  evening  the  good  lady  herself 
was  at  the  same  place  where  the  servant  had  been, 
with  her  ear  applied  to  the  key-hole,  where  she 
heard — what  she  heard  we  know  not.  The  truth 
is,  she  came  down  stairs  with  her  spirit  more 
troubled  than  had  been  observed  in  her  since  the 
death  of  her  husband.  She  threw  on  her  cloak, 
and  hastened  to  the  burgomaster's. 


The  following  morning,  when  the  stranger  was 
going  out,  the  landlady  placed  herself  before  him, 
made  the  sign  of  the  cross  upon  her,  and  said, 
"  Do  you  understand  me?" 

The  stranger  did  not  seem  to  hear  her,  and 
passed  on,  saluting  her. 

"Ah,  it  is  a  hardened  sinner,"  cried  she  ;  "and 
yet  the  monster !  with  such  a  figure — who  would 
have  suspected  him  ?" 

In  the  evening,  the  traveller  entered  his  cham- 
ber tranquilly.  At  each  side  of  the  door  were 
two  policemen,  some  of  the  hardy  citizens  of 
Wurtzburg,  and  on  the  stairs,  in  the  hall,  and  in 
the  street  were  all  the  women  in  the  city  remark- 
able for  their  curiosity.  The  number  was  very 
great. 

The  voice  of  the  stranger  rose  and  fell  at  inter- 
vals, as  if  he  were  discoursing  with  some  one. 
Those  who  were  near  the  door  heard  the  follow- 
ing strange  invocation  :  ' '  Thou  misformed  off- 
spring of  our  uncreated  power — thou  whom  I 
have  so  long  sought — thou  shalt  escape  me  no 
longer:  answer  me.  Come,  my  black  barbet, 
change  thy  costume.  How  thy  black  hair  rises 
on  end,  thy  body  swells,  and  thy  red  eyes  spar- 
kle !  Now,  now  thou  understandest  me  — ■  dost 
increase  ?  increase  again  —  stop,  thou  already 
reachest  the  ceiling — now  one  more  effort,  infernal 
power ;  if  thou  indeed  hast  submitted  thyself  to 
me,  show  thyself,  demon,  and  speak  to  thy  mas- 
ter." 

At  that  call,  a  sharp,  shrill  voice,  that  seemed 
to  come  up  out  of  the  lower  regions,  answered, 
with  an  ironical  humility, — 

' '  Master,  what  dost  thou  desire  of  thy  ser- 
vant?" 

At  once  all  the  women  who  heard  the  awful 
voice  fled  with  screams  of  terror.  The  men  burst 
open  the  door,  although  not  fastened,  and  seized 
the  traveller,  whom  they  found  seated  in  an  arm- 
chair, at  a  little  distance  from  the  table.  As  to 
the  demon,  he  had  disappeared ;  but  a  distinct 
and  strong  sulphurous  smell  remained,  as  many 
witnesses  testified. 

The  stranger  was  dragged  before  a  magistrate, 
and  charged  with  using  magic  and  sorcery,  and 
of  holding  commerce  with  the  devil.  The  fol- 
lowing was  his  only  response  : — 

"  I  had  begun  a  tragedy,  but  as  my  friends  dis- 
turbed me  continually  in  Weimer,  where  I  live,  I 
came  to  write  here.     The  hero  of  my  tragedy  is 


534 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,    AND   THE 


a  man  who  invokes  the  devil,  and  to  whom  the 
devil  appears.  I  confess  that  I  have  an  unfortu- 
nate habit,  for  which  I  ask  pardon  of  the  citizens 
of  Wurtzburg,  of  reading  aloud  what  I  compose, 
as  fast  as  I  write  it.  As  to  my  invoking,  person- 
ally, the  devil,  I  am  too  good  a  Christian  to  do 


English  school  of  engraving,  which  brought  the 
art  to  its  present  perfection  in  that  country. 
When  this  affecting  picture  was  exhibited  at  the 
Royal  Academy,  Mr.  Garrick  went  one  morning 
early,  that  he  might  review  the  exhibition  unin- 
terrupted  by  the    crowd,   which   constantly  at- 


DBATH    OK  WOLFE  — 

that,  and  you,  Mr.  Burgomaster,  too  enlightened 
to  believe  it. ' ' 

The  sorcerer  was  named  Goethe,  the  author  of 
"Werther, "  and  of  "  Goetz  von  Berlichingen," 
and  was  then  becoming  the  author  of  "  Faust." 


GARRICK  AND  THE  DEATH  OF  WOLFE. 

mR.  WEST'S  justly  admired  picture,  the 
Death  of  General  Wolfe,  at  once  raised 
the  painter  to  a  summit  of  reputation  unattained 
before,  and,  by  affording  an  ample  subject  for  the 
talents   of  Woollet,   laid  that   foundation  of  an 


(By  Benjamin  West.) 

tended  at  the  fashionable  hours.  A  considerable 
party  was  in  the  room,  drawn  there,  at  that  hour, 
by  the  same  motive.  Of  this  number  was  a 
young  lady,  whose  personal  beauty  appeared  not 
to  be  her  only  accomplishment.  The  remarks 
she  made  on  many  of  the  pictures  showed  a  deli- 
cate taste,  and  considerable  knowledge  of  the 
arts.  They  were  attended  to  with  pleasure  by 
her  friends ;  and  Mr.  Garrick,  then  unknown  to 
most  of  the  company,  paid  some  handsome  com- 
pliments to  her  judgment.  The  Death  of  Wolfe 
drew  the   highest   encomiums   from  every  spec- 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


535 


tator.  The  young  lady  was  particular  in  her 
commendation,  but  thought  the  expression  not 
absolutely  perfect ;  there  was  a  something  want- 
ing in  the  General's  countenance,  which  she  could 
not  easily  describe ;  there  was  in  that  countenance 
a  languor  too  happily  portrayed.  The  company 
were  dissatisfied  with  this  opinion,  and  her  friends 
appeared  concerned  on  her  account.  Garrick, 
who  had  listened  attentively  and  viewed  the  pic- 


that  transient  rapture  which  history  records  the 
dying  hero  to  have  felt  at  the  joyful  wTords, 
' '  They  run  !"  "  Who  run  ?"  "  The  French  !' ' 
He  maintained  the  representation  a  sufficient 
length  of  time  for  every  one  present  to  compare, 
and  feel,  the  astonishing  effect  of  his  inimitable 
performance.  A  burst  of  applause  followed, 
which,  he  politely  declared  was  justly  due  to  the 
discernment  of  the  lady,  who  had  suggested,  per- 


CROMWELL   DISMISSING  THE   PARLIAMENT. 


ture  with  acute  penetration,  begged  leave  to  offer 
something  in  support  of  the  lady's  opinion,  which 
he  hoped  to  convince  the  company  was  not  alto- 
gether erroneous.  The  lady,  he  observed,  had 
remarked  that  there  was  something  wanting  in 
the  General's  countenance  :  of  that  something  he 
would  endeavor  to  supply  an  idea.  He  immedi- 
ately placed  himself  in  the  attitude  so  judiciously 
chosen  by  the  painter,  supported  by  two  gentle- 
men of  the  company  ;  and  displayed,  in  his  own 
face,  the  exact  countenance  depicted  by  the  artist. 
He  then  assumed  a  most  animated  expression  of 


haps,  the  only  improvement  of  which  that  mas- 
terly work  was  susceptible. 


CROMWELL  AND  THE  LADY. 

rj  ROM  WELL  was  one  day  engaged  in  a  warm 
\^l  argument  with  a  lady  on  the  subject  of  ora- 
tory, in  which  she  maintained  that  eloquence 
could  only  be  acquired  by  those  who  made  it 
their  study  in  earl)'  youth,  and  their  practice  af- 
terwards. The  lord  protector,  on  the  contrary, 
maintained  that  there  was  an  eloquence  which 
sprang   from    the    heart ;   since,  when    that   was 


536 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


deeply  interested  in  the  attainment  of  airy  object, 
it  never  failed  to  supply  a  fluency  and  richness  of 
expression,  which  would,  in  comparison,  render 
vapid  the  studied  speeches  of  the  most  celebrated 
orators.  It  happened,  some  days  after,  that  this 
lad}-  was  thrown  into  a  state  bordering  on  dis- 
traction, by  the  arrest  and  imprisonment  of  her 
husband,  who  was  conducted  to  the  Tower  as  a 
traitor  to  the  government.  The  agonized  wife  flew 
to  the  lord  protector,  rushed  through  his  guards, 
threw  herself  at  his  feet,  and,  with  the  most 
pathetic  eloquence,  pleaded  for  the  life  and  inno- 
cence of  her  injured  husband.  His  highness 
maintained  a  severe  brow,  till  the  petitioner, 
overpowered  by  the  excess  of  her  feelings,  and 
the  energy  with  which  she  had  expressed  them, 
paused  ;  then  his  stern  countenance  relaxed  into 
a  smile,  and,  extending  to  her  an  order  for  the 
immediate  liberation  of  her  husband,  he  said,  "  I 
think  all  who  have  witnessed  this  scene  will  vote 
on  my  side  of  the  question,  in  a  dispute  between 
us  the  other  day,  that  the  eloquence  of  the 
heart  is  far  above  that  mechanically  acquired  by 
study." 

When  the  occasion  demanded  it,  Cromwell 
himself  possessed  that  nervous  eloquence  of  word 
and  action  which  is  so  effective  in  swaying  the 
minds  of  men.  "You  are  no  longer  a  parlia- 
ment!" he  cried,  on  dismissing  the  famous 
' '  rump. "  "  The  Lord  is  done  with  }'ou.  He  has 
chosen  other  instruments  for  earning  on  his 
■work."  His  words  and  manner  had  as  much  to 
do  with  subduing  the  spirit  of  the  members  and 
driving  them  from  the  hall  as  the  presence  of  the 
soldiers.  

PERSONAL      APPEARANCE      OF      PETER      THE 
HERMIT. 

THE  appearance  of  Peter  was  mean,  his  stature 
small,  his  body  meagre,  and  his  countenance 
shrivelled  ;  but,  with  these  disadvantages,  he  had 
a  keen  and  lively  eye,  and  a  ready  eloquence. 
Being  encouraged  by  Pope  Urban  II.,  he  travelled 
as  a  missionary  through  the  provinces  of  Italy 
and  France.  He  rode  on  an  ass  ;  his-  head  and 
feet  were  naked,  and  he  bore  a  weighty  crucifix. 
He  prayed  frequently,  fed  on  bread  and  water, 
gave  away  in  alms  all  that  he  received,  and,  by 
his  saintly  demeanor  and  fervid  address,  drew  in- 
numerable crowds  of  all  ranks  to  listen  to  his 
preaching.      When    he   painted    the   indignities 


offered  to  the  true  believers  at  the  birthplace  and 
sepulchre  of  the  Saviour,  every  heart  was  melted 
to  compassion,  and  animated  to  revenge.  His 
success  was  such  as  might  be  expected  from  the 
rude  enthusiasm  and  martial  spirit  of  the  age  ; 
and  Peter  soon  collected  an  army  of  sixty  thousand 
followers,  with  which  he  proceed  towards  Jeru- 
salem. 


CARACTACUS,  THE  BRITISH  PATRIOT. 

T^  IS  army  being  defeated,  Caractacus  fled  to  Car- 
Lj  tesmandua,  Queen  of  the  Brigantes,  who,  jeal- 
ous of  the  glory  he  had  acquired,  treacherously  de- 
livered the  unfortunate  monarch  into  the  hands 
of  the  Romans.  Claudius,  being  desirous  of  be- 
holding a  prince  of  whom  such  extraordinary  ex- 
ploits had  been  rumored,  ordered  him  to  be  con- 
ducted into  his  presence,  when,  according  to 
Tacitus,  he  delivered  the  following  memorable 
oration  : — 

"If,  in  my  prosperity,  the  moderation  of  my 
conduct  had  been  equal  to  my  birth  and  fortune, 
I  should  have  entered  this  city  rather  as  a  friend 
than  a  prisoner  ;  nor  would  you,  Caesar,  have  dis- 
dained the  alliance  of  a  prince  descended  from  il- 
lustrious ancestors,  and  ruler  over  man}'  nations. 
My  present  fate  is  to  me  dishonorable  ;  to  you 
magnificently  glorious.  I  once  had  horses,  I 
once  had  men,  I  once  had  arms,  I  once  had 
riches  ;  can  you  wonder  that  I  should  part  from 
them  reluctantly  ?  Though  you,  as  Romans,  may 
aim  at  universal  empire,  it  does  not  follow  that 
all  mankind  must  tamely  submit  to  be  your  vas- 
sals. If  I  had  yielded  without  resistance,  neither 
the  perverseness  of  my  fortune,  nor  the  glory  of  ' 
your  triumph,  would  have  been  famous.  Punish 
me  with  death,  and  I  shall  soon  be  forgotten  ; 
suffer  me  to  live,  and  I  shall  remain  a  perpetual 
monument  of  your  clemency." 

This  magnanimous  but  heart-rending  speech 
affected  the  whole  assembly,  and  Claudius  him- 
self shed  tears.  The  emperor  immediately  or- 
dered the  chains  of  Caractacus  and  his  family  to 
be  taken  off,  and  they  were  restored  to  the  posses- 
sion of  perfect  liberty.  Caractacus  in  viewing  the 
city  of  Rome,  and  captivated  with  the  splendor  of 
that  imperial  city,  exclaimed,  "  How  astonishing 
that  the  Romans,  who  have  such  magnificent  palaces 
of  their  own,  should  envy  the  wretched  huts  and 
cabins  of  the  Britons  !  " 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


537 


day's  after  they  were  put  on  their  trial  as  "dis- 
turbers of  the  peace. ' ' 

Some  of  the  scenes  of  this  famous  trial  were 
graphically  described,  by  a  gentleman  who  was 
present,  in  the  following  language  : 


PATRICK    HENRY'S    DEFENCE    OF    THE    BAP- 
TIST PREACHERS. 

IN  the  Colonial  days  of  Virginia,  before  Patrick 
Henry  had  become  famous,  the  Baptists  were 
the  most  numerous  class  of  dissenters,  and  the  first 
to  resist  the  es- 
tablished hie- 
rarchy. Their 
ministers  were 
generally  poor 
men,  warm- 
hearted and  af- 
fectionate, and 
spent  much  time 
in  gratuitous  ser- 
vices in  promo- 
ting the  spiritual 
welfare  of  their 
fellow-men.  It 
is  not  certain 
that  there  was 
ever  a  law  in  the 
colony  author- 
izing the  impris- 
onment of  any 
person  for  preach- 
ing the  gospel, 
but  the  law  for 
preserving  peace 
and  order,  and 
to  ' '  preserve  the 
purity  of  doc- 
trine and  unity 
of  the  church," 
was  so  construed, 
and  whenever 
preachers  were 
apprehended  and 
imprisoned,  it 
was  done  by  vir- 
tue of  a  peace 
warrant. 

The  first  con- 
viction and  act- 
ual imprison- 
ment  under  this 

construction     o  f  caractacus  before  cesar. 

law  was  in  Spotsylvania  count}-,  on  the  4th  of  The  clerk  was  reading  the  indictment  in  a  slow 
June,  1768,  when  John  Waller,  Lewis  Craig,  and  formal  manner,  and  as  he  pronounced  the 
James  Childs,  and  others  were  dragged  before  crime  with  emphasis,  "for  preaching  the  gospel 
the  magistrates,  and  bound  over  for  trial.    Three     of  the  Son  of  God,"  a  plain-dressed  man,  who 


538 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


had  just  ridden  up  to  the  court-house,  entered  and 
took  his  seat  within  the  bar.  He  was  known  to 
the  court  and  lawyers,  but  a  stranger  to  the  mass 
of  spectators  who  had  gathered  on  the  occasion. 
This  was  Patrick  Henry,  who,  on  hearing  of  this 
prosecution,  had  ridden  some  fifty  or  sixty  miles 
from  his  residence  in  Hanover  county,  to  volun- 
teer his  services  in  their  defence.     He  listened  to 


A     TRIAL     FOR     HERESY    IN    AN     ENGLISH     COURT     DUR 

CENTURY. 

the  further  reading  of  the  indictment  w7ith  marked 
attention,  the  first  sentence  of  which,  that  had 
caught  his  ear,  was,  "  for  preaching  the  gospel  of 
the  Son  of  God."  When  it  was  finished,  and  the 
prosecuting  attorney  had  submitted  a  few  remarks, 
Henry  arose,  reached  out  his  hand,  and  received 
the  paper,  and  addressed  the  court  : 

May  it  please  your  worships  :  I  think  I  heard 
read  by  the  prosecutor,  as  I  entered  this  house, 


the  paper  I  now  hold  in  1113'  hand.  If  I  have 
rightly  understood,  the  king's  attorney  of  this 
colony  has  framed  an  indictment  for  the  purpose 
of  arraigning  and  punishing  by  imprisonment  the 
three  inoffensive  persons  before  the  bar  of  this 
court,  for  a  crime  of  great  magnitude — as  dis- 
turbers of  the  peace.  May  it  please  the  court, 
what  did  I  hear  read  ?  Did  I  hear  it  distinctly, 
or  was  it  a  mistake  of  my 
own  ?  Did  I  hear  an  expres- 
sion, as  if  a  crime  that  these 
men,  whom  your  worships 
are  about  to  try  for  a  misde- 
meanor, are  charged  with — 
what?"  and  continuing  in  a 
low,  solemn,  heavy  tone, 
"  for  preaching  the  gospel  of 
the  Son  of  God."  Pausing 
amidst  the  most  profound  si- 
lence and  breathless  aston- 
ishment, he  slowly  waved  the 
paper  three  times  around  his 
head,  when,  lifting  his  hands 
and  eyes  to  heaven,  with  pe- 
culiar and  impressive  energy, 
he  exclaimed,  "  Great  God  !" 
The  exclamation,  the  action, 
the  burst  of  feeling  from  the 
audience,  were  all  overpower- 
ing.    Mr.  Henry  resumed : 

' '  May  it  please  your  wor- 
ships :  In  a  day  like  this, 
when  truth  is  about  to  burst 
her  fetters ;  when  mankind 
are  about  to  be  aroused  to 
claim  their  natural  and  in- 
alienable rights  ;  when  the 
yoke  of  oppression  that  has 
reached  the  wilderness  of 
America,  and  the  unnatural 
ng  the  eighteenth  alliance  of  ecclesiastical  and 
civil  power,  are  about  to  be 
dissevered, — at  such  a  period,  when  liberty — lib- 
erty of  conscience — is  about  to  awake  from  her 
slumberings,  and  inquire  into  the  reason  of  such 
charges  as  I  find  exhibited  here  to-day  in  this  in- 
dictment ! ' '  Another  fearful  pause,  while  the 
speaker  alternately  cast  his  sharp,  piercing  eyes 
on  the  court  and  the  prisoners,  and  resumed  :  "If 
I  am  not  deceived,  according  to  the  contents  of 
the  paper  I  now  hold  in  my  hand,  these  men  are 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


539 


accused  of  '  preaching  the  gospel  of  the  Son  of 
God.' — Great  God  !  "  Another  long  pause,  while 
he  again  waved  the  indictment  around  his  head, 
and  a  deeper  impression  was  made  on  the  audi- 
tory. Resuming  his  speech  :  ' '  May  it  please 
your  worships,  there  are  periods  in  the  history  of 
man,  when  corruption  and  depravity  have  so  long 
debased  the  human  character,  that  man  sinks 
under  the  weight  of  the  oppressor's  hand,  and 
becomes  his  servile,  his  abject  slave ;  he  licks  the 
hand  that  smites  him ;  he  bows  in  passive  obe- 
dience to  the  mandates  of  the  despot,  and  in  this 
state  of  servility  he  receives  his  fetters  of  per- 
petual bondage.  But,  may  it  please  your  wor- 
ships, such  a  day  has  passed  away  !  From  that 
period,  when  our  fathers  left  the  land  of  their 
nativity  for  settlement  in  these  American  wilds — 
for  liberty — for  civil  and  religious  liberty — for 
liberty  of  conscience — to  worship  his  Creator  ac- 
cording to  his  conception  of  Heaven's  revealed 
will ;  from  the  moment  he  placed  his  foot  on  the 
American  continent,  and  in  the  deeply-imbedded 
forests  sought  an  asylum  from  persecution  and 
tyranny  —  from  that  moment  despotism  was 
crushed ;  her  fetters  of  darkness  were  broken, 
and  Heaven  decreed  that  man  should  be  free — 
free  to  worship  God  according  to  the  Bible.  Were 
it  not  for  this,  in  vain  have  been  the  efforts  and 
sacrifices  of  the  colonists  ;  in  vain  were  all  their 
sufferings  and  bloodshed  to  subjugate  this  new 
world,  if  we,  their  offspring,  must  still  be  op- 
pressed and  persecuted.  But,  may  it  please  your 
worships,  permit  me  to  inquire  once  more — For 
what  are  these  men  about  to  be  tried  ?  This  paper 
says,  '  for  preaching  the  gospel  of  the  Son  of 
God  ! '  Great  God  !  for  preaching  the  gospel  of 
the  Saviour  to  Adam's  fallen  race!"  And  in 
tones  of  thunder  he  exclaimed,  "What  law 
have  they  violated  ? ' '  while  the  third  time, 
in  a  slow,  dignified  manner,  he  lifted  his  eyes  to 
heaven,  and  waved  the  indictment  around  his 
head.  The  court  and  audience  were  now  wrought 
up  to  the  most  intense  pitch  of  excitement.  The 
face  of  the  prosecuting  attorney  was  pallid  and 
ghastly,  and  he  appeared  unconscious  that  his 
whole  frame  was  agitated  with  alarm  ;  while  the 
judge,  in  a  tremulous  voice,  put  an  end  to  the 
scene,  now  becoming  excessively  painful,  by  the 
authoritative  declaration,  ''Sheriff,  discharge  those 
men  ! ' ' 

The  announcement  had  no  sooner  been  made 


than  there  arose  a  scene  of  the  wildest  excite- 
ment and  enthusiasm.  Strong  men  wept,  others 
shouted  like  madmen,  while  around  Patrick 
Henry  there  was  such  an  exhibition  of  hand- 
shaking and  shouting  as  was  perhaps  never  wit- 
nessed outside  of  an  old-fashioned  Methodist 
revival.  Henry's  fame  as  an  orator  was  estab- 
lished from  that  hour. 


THE  POOR   RELATION. 
BY    CHARLES    LAMB. 

I  DO  not  know  how,  upon  a  subject  which  I 
began  with  treating  half  seriously,  I  should 
have  fallen  upon  a  recital  so  eminently  painful ; 
but  this  theme  of  poor  relationship  is  replete 
with  so  much  matter  for  tragic  as  well  as  comic 
associations,  that  it  is  difficult  to  keep  the  ac- 
count distinct  without  blending.  The  earliest 
impressions  which  I  received  on  this  matter  are 
certainly  not  attended  with  anything  painful,  or 
very  humiliating,  in  the  recalling.  At  my  father's, 
table  (no  very  splendid  one)  was  to  be  found 
every  Saturday  the  mysterious  figure  of  an  aged 
gentleman,  clothed  in  neat  black,  of  a  sad,  yet 
cornel}-  appearance.  His  deportment  was  of  the 
essence  of  gravity  ;  his  words  few  or  none  ;  and 
I  was  not  to  make  a  noise  in  his  presence.  I  had 
little  inclination  to  have  done  so — for  my  cue  was- 
to  admire  in  silence.  A  particular  elbow-chair 
was  appropriated  to  him,  which  was  in  no  case  to- 
be  violated.  A  peculiar  sort  of  sweet  pudding, 
which  appeared  on  no  other  occasion,  distin- 
guished the  days  of  his  coming.  I  used  to  think 
him  a  prodigiously  rich  man.  All  I  could  make 
out  of  him  was,  that  he  and  my  father  had  been 
school-fellows  a  world  ago  at  Lincoln,  and  that  he 
came  from  the  Mint.  The  Mint  I  knew  to  be  a 
place  where  all  the  money  was  coined,  and  I 
thought  he  was  the  owner  of  all  the  money. 
Awful  ideas  of  the  Tower  twined  themselves 
about  his  presence.  He  seemed  above  human 
infirmities  and  passions.  A  sort  of  melancholy 
grandeur  invested  him.  From  some  inexplicable 
doom  I  fancied  him  obliged  to  go  about  in  an 
eternal  suit  of  mourning  ;  a  captive — a  stately 
being  let  out  of  the  Tower  on  Saturdays.  Often 
have  I  wondered  at  the  temerity  of  my  father, 
who,  in  spite  of  a  habitual  general  respect  which 
we  all  in  common  manifested  towards  him,  would 
venture  now  and  then  to  stand  up  against  him  in 
some  argument    touching   their    youthful    days. 


540 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


The  houses  of  the  ancient  city  of  Lincoln  are 
divided  (as  most  of  my  readers  know)  between 
the  dwellers  on  the  hill  and  in  the  valley.  This 
marked  distinction  formed  an  obvious  divisiou 
between  the  boys  who  lived  above  (however 
brought  together  in  a  common  school)  and  the 
boys  whose  parental  residence  was  on  the  plain — 
a  sufficient  cause  of  hostility  in  the  code  of  these 
young  Grotiuses.  My  father  had  been  a  leading 
mountaineer  ;  and  would  still  maintain  the  general 
superiority,  in  skill  and  hardihood,  of  the  above 
boys  (his  own  faction)  over  the  below  boys  (so 
were  they  called),  of  which  part}-  his  contempo- 
rary had  been  a  chieftain.  Many  and  hot  were  the 
shirmishes  on  this  topic — the  only  one  upon  which 
the  old  gentleman  was  ever  brought  out — and 
•bad  blood  bred  ;  even  sometimes  almost  to  the 
recommencement  (so  I  expected)  of  actual  hostil- 
ities. But  my  father,  who  scorned  to  insist  upon 
advantages,  generally  contrived  to  turn  the  con- 
versation upon  some  adroit  by -commendation  of 
the  old  minister  ;  in  the  general  preference  of 
which,  before  all  other  cathedrals  in  the  island, 
the  dweller  on  the  hill  and  the  plain-born  could 
meet  on  a  conciliating  level,  and  lay  down  their 
less  important  differences.  Once  only  I  saw  the 
old  gentleman  really  ruffled,  and  I  remember  with 
anguish  the  thought  that  came  over  me — "Per- 
haps he  will  never  come  here  again."  He  had 
been  pressed  to  take  another  plate  of  the  viand 
which  I  have  already  mentioned  as  the  indispens- 
able concomitant  of  his  visits.  He  had  refused, 
with  a  resistance  amounting  to  rigor,  when  my 
aunt,  an  old  Lincolnian  but  who  had  something 
of  this,  in  common  with  my  cousin  Bridget,  that 
she  would  sometimes  press  civility  out  of  season, 
uttered  the  following  memorable  application : 
"Do  take  another  slice,  Mr.  Billet,  for  you  do 
not  get  pudding  every  da}-."  The  old  gentleman 
said  nothing  at  the  time — but  he  took  occasion  in 
the  course  of  the  evening,  when  some  argument 
had  intervened  between  them,  to  utter,  with  an 
emphasis  which  chilled  the  company,  and  which 
chills  me  now  as  I  write  it — ' '  Woman,  you  are 
superannuated."  John  Billet  did  not  survive  long 
after  the  digesting  of  this  affront ;  but  he  sur- 
vived long  enough  to  assure  me  that  peace  was 
actually  restored !  and,  if  I  remember  aright, 
another  pudding  was  discreetly  substituted  in  the 
place  of  that  which  had  occasioned  the  offence. 
He  died  at  the  Mint  (anno  1781),  where  he  had 


long  held,  what  he  accounted,  a  comfortable  inde- 
pendence ;  and  with  five  pounds  fourteen  shillings 
and  a  penny,  which  were  found  in  his  escritoire 
after  his  decease,  left  the  world,  blessing  God  that 
he  had  enough  to  bury  him,  and  that  he  had 
never  been  obliged  to  any  man  for  a  sixpence. 
This  was — a  Poor  Relation. 


HOHENLINDEN. 
BY   THOJUS   CAMPBELL. 

ON  Linden,  -when  the  sun  was  low, 
All  bloodless  lay  the  untrodden  snow, 
And  dark  as  winter  was  the  flow 
Of  Iser,  rolling  rapidly. 

But  Linden  saw  another  sight, 
"When  the  drums  beat  at  dead  of  night, 
Commanding  fires  of  death  to  light 
The  darkness  of  her  scenery. 

By  torch  and  trumpet  fast  arrayed, 
Each  horseman  drew  his  battle-blade, 
And  furious  every  charger  neighed 
To  join  the  dreadful  revelry. 

Then  shook  the  hills  with  thunder  riven, 
Then  rushed  the  steed  to  battle  driven, 
And  louder  than  the  bolts  of  heaven 
Far  flashed  the  red  artillery. 

But  redder  yet  that  light  shall  glow 
On  Linden's  hills  of  stained  snow, 
And  bloodier  yet  the  torrent  flow 
Of  Iser,  rolling  rapidly. 

'Tis  morn,  but  scarce  yon  level  sun 
Can  pierce  the  war-clouds,  rolling  dun, 
Where  furious  Frank  and  fiery  Hun 
Shout  in  their  sulphurous  canopy. 

The  combat  deepens.     On,  ye  brave, 
Who  rush  to  glory,  or  the  grave  ! 
Wave,  Munich  !  all  thy  banners  wave, 
And  charge  with  all  thy  chivalry. 

Few,  few  shall  part  where  many  meet  ! 
The  snow  shall  be  their  winding-sheet  ; 
And  ever}-  turf  beneath  their  feet 
Shall  be  a  soldier's  sepulchre. 


ESCAPE     OF    A    PRISONER    CONDEMNED    BY 
THE  INQUISITION. 

OUR  progress  to  Valladolid  was  slow  and 
solemn,  and  occupied  a  space  of  no  less  than 
four  days.  On  the  evening  of  the  fourth  day  we 
approached  that  city.  The  king  and  his  court 
came  out  to  meet  us ;  he  saluted  the  inquisitor- 
general  with  all  the  demonstrations  of  the  deepest 
submission    and    humility ;     and     then    having 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


541 


yielded  him  the  place  of  honor,  turned  round  his 
horse,  and  accompanied  us  back  to  Valladolid. 
The  cavalcade  that  attended  the  king  broke  into 
two  files,  and  received  us  in  the  midst  of  them. 
The  whole  city  seemed  to  empty  itself  on  this 
memorable  occasion,  and  the  multitudes  that 
crowded  along  the  road,  and  were  scattered  in  the 
neighboring  fields,  were  innumerable.  The  day 
was  now  closed,  and  the 
procession  went  forward 
amidst  the  light  of  a  thou- 
sand torches.  We,  the  con- 
demned of  the  Inquisition, 
had  been  conducted  from 
the  metropolis  upon  tum- 
brils ;  but  as  we  arrived  at 
the  gates  of  Valladolid, 
we  were  commanded,  for 
the  greater  humiliation,  to 
alight  and  proceed  on  foot 
to  the  place  of  our  con- 
finement, as  many  as  could 
not  walk  without  assist- 
ance being  supported  by 
the  attendants.  We  were 
neither  chained  nor  bound  ; 
the  practice  of  the  Inqui- 
sition being  to  deliver  the 
condemned  upon  such  oc- 
casions into  the  hands  of 
two  sureties  each,  who 
placed  their  charge  in  the 
middle  between  them  ;  and 
men  of  the  most  respect- 
able characters  were  ac- 
customed, from  religious 
motives,  to  sue  for  this 
melancholy  office. 

Dejected  and  despairing,  I  entered  the  streets 
of  the  city,  no  object  present  to  the  eyes  of  my 
mind  but  that  of  my  approaching  execution.  The 
crowd  was  vast,  the  confusion  inexpressible.  As 
we  passed  by  the  end  of  a  narrow  lane,  the  horse 
of  one  of  the  guards,  who  rode  exactly  in  a  line 
with  me,  plunged  and  reared  in  a  violent  manner, 
and  at  length  threw  his  rider  upon  the  pavement. 
Others  of  the  horse-guards  attempted  to  catch  the 
bridle  of  the  enraged  animal  ;  they  rushed  against 
each  other  ;  several  of  the  crowd  were  thrown 
down,  and  trampled  under  the  horses'  feet.  The 
shrieks  of  these,  and  the  loud  cries  and  exclama- 


tions of  the  bystanders  mingled  in  confused  and 
discordant  chorus  ;  no  sound,  no  object  could  be 
distinguished.  From  the  excess  of  the  tumult, 
a  sudden  thought  darted  into  my  mind,  where  all, 
an  instant  before,  had  been  relaxation  and  de- 
spair. Two  or  three  of  the  horses  pushed  for- 
ward in  a  particular  direction  ;  a  moment  after, 
they  re-filed  with  equal  violence,  and  left  a  wide 


RUSHED   THE   STEED   TO   BATTLE   DRIVEN." 

but  transitory  gap.  My  project  was  no  sooner 
conceived  than  executed.  Weak  as  I  had  just 
now  felt  myself,  a  supernatural  tide  of  strength 
seemed  to  come  over  me  ;  I  sprang  away  with  all 
imaginable  impetuosity,  and  rushed  down  the 
lane  I  have  just  mentioned.  Every  one  amidst 
the  confusion  was  attentive  to  his  personal  safety, 
and  several  minutes  elapsed  before  I  was  missed. 
In  the  lane  everything  was  silent,  and  the 
darkness  was  extreme.  Man,  woman,  and  child, 
were  gone  out  to  view  the  procession.  For  some 
time  I  could  scarcely  distinguish  a  single  object ; 
the  doors  and  windows  were   all  closed.     I   now 


542 


THE  WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


chanced  to  come  to  an  open  door ;  within  I  saw 
no  one  but  an  old  man,  who  was  bus}-  over  some 
metallic  work  at  a  chafimr  dish  of  fire.     I  had  no 


heels.  I  rushed  in ;  I  impetuously  closed  the 
door,  and  bolted  it ;  I  then  seized  the  old  man  by 
the  collar  of  his  shirt  with  a  determined  grasp, 

and  swore  vehe- 
mently that  I 
would  annihilate 
him  that  instant 
if  he  did  not  con- 
sent to  afford  me 
assistance. 
Though  for  some 
time  I  had  per- 
haps been  feebler 
than  he,  the  ter- 
ror that  now 
drove  me  on  ren- 
dered me  compar- 
ative!}' a  giant. 
He  entreated  me 
to  permit  him  to 
breathe,  and  pro- 
mised to  do  what- 
ever I  should  de- 
sire. I  looked 
round  the  apart- 
ment, and  saw  a 
rapier  hanging 
against  the  wall, 
of  which  I  in- 
stantly proceeded 
to  make  myself 
master.  While  I 
was  doing  this, 
my  involuntary 
host,  who  was 
extremely  terri- 
fied at  my  pro- 
cedure, nimbly 
attempted  to  slip 
by  me  and  rush 
into  the  street. 
With  difficulty  I 
caught  hold  of 
his  arm,  and  pull- 
ing him  back,  put 
the  point  of  my 
rapier  to  his 
breast,  solemnly 
condemned  by  the  inquisition.  assuring  him  that 

room  for  choice  ;    I  expected  every  moment   to     no  consideration  on  earth  should  save  him  from  my 
hear  the   myrmidons  of   the  Inquisition  at   my      fury  if  he  attempted  to  escape  a  second  time.    He 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


543 


Immediately  dropped  on  his  knees,  and  with  the 
most  piteous  accents  entreated  me  to  spare  his 
life.  I  told  him  that  I  was  no  robber,  that  I  did 
not  intend  him  the  slightest  harm ;  and  that,  if 
he  would  implicitly  yield  to  my  direction,  he 
might  assure  himself  he  never  should  have  rea- 
son to  repent  his  compliance.  By  this  declara- 
tion the  terrors  of  the  old  man  were  somewhat 
appeased.  I  took  the  opportunity  of  this  calm 
to  go  to  the  street-door,  which  I  instantly  locked, 
and  put  the  key  in  my  bosom.     ***** 

We  were  still  engaged  in  discussing  the  topics 
I  have  mentioned,  when  I  was  suddenly  alarmed 
by  the  noise  of  some  one  stirring  in  the  inner 
apartment.  I  had  looked  into  this  room,  and  had 
perceived  nothing  but  the  bed  upon  which  the 
old  man  nightly  reposed  himself.  I  sprang  up, 
however,  at  the  sound,  and  perceiving  that  the 
door  had  a  bolt  on  the  outside,  I  eagerly  fastened 
it.  I  then  turned  to  Mordecai — that  was  the 
name  of  my  host :  Wretch,  said  I,  did  not  you 
assure  me  that  there  was  no  one  but  yourself  in 
the  house  ?  Oh,  cried  Mordecai,  it  is  my  child  ! 
it  is  my  child'!  she  went  into  the  inner  apartment, 
and  has  fallen  asleep  on  the  bed.  Beware,  I 
answered ;  the  slightest  falsehood  more  shall  in- 
stantly be  expiated  in  your  blood.  I  call  Abra- 
ham to  witness,  rejoined  the  once  more  terrified 
Jew,  it  is  my  child  !  only  my  child  !  Tell  me, 
cried  I,  with  severity  of  accent,  how  old  is  this 
child  ?  Only  five  years,  said  Mordecai :  my  dear 
Leah  died  when  she  was  a  year  old,  and  though 
we  had  several  children,  this  single  one  has  sur- 
vived her.  Speak  to  your  child  ;  let  me  hear  her 
voice !  He  spoke  to  her,  and  she  answered, 
Father,  I  want  to  come  out.  I  was  satisfied  it 
was  the  voice  of  a  little  girl.  I  turned  to  the 
Jew  :  Take  care,  said  I,  how  you  deceive  me  now ; 
is  there  no  other  person  in  that  room  ?  He  impre- 
cated a  curse  on  himself  if  there  were.  I  opened 
the  door  with  caution,  and  the  little  girl  came  for- 
ward. As  soon  as  I  saw  her,  I  seized  her  with  a 
rapid  motion,  and  returned  to  my  chair.  Man, 
said  I,  you  have  trifled  with  me  too  rashly;  you 
have  not  considered  what  I  am  escaped  from,  and 
what  I  have  to  fear ;  from  this  moment  this  child 
shall  be  the  pledge  of  my  safety ;  I  will  not  part 
with  her  an  instant  as  long  as  I  remain  in  your 
house ;  and  with  this  rapier  in  my  hand  I  will 
pierce  her  to  the  heart  the  moment  I  am  led  to 
imagine  that  I  am  no  longer  in  safety.     The  Jew 


trembled  at  my  resolution ;  the  emotions  of  a 
father  worked  in  his  features  and  glistened  in  his 
eye.  At  least  let  me  kiss  her,  said  he.  Be  it  so, 
replied  I :  one  embrace,  and  then,  till  the  dawn 
of  the  coming  day,  she  remains  with  me.  I  re- 
leased my  hold ;  the  child  rushed  to  her  father, 
and  he  caught  her  in  his  arms.  My  dear  Teah, 
cried  Mordecai,  now  a  sainted  spirit  in  the  bosom 
of  our  father  Abraham !  I  call  God  to  witness 
between  us,  that,  if  all  my  caution  and  vigilance 
can  prevent  it,  not  a  hair  of  this  child  shall  be 
inj  ured !  Stranger,  you  little  know  by  how 
strong  a  motive  you  have  now  engaged  me  to 
your  cause.  We  poor  Jews,  hunted  on  the  face 
of  the  earth,  the  abhorrence  and  execration  of 
mankind,  have  nothing  but  family  affections  to 
support  us  under  our  multiplied  disgraces ;  and 
family  affections  are  entwined  with  our  existence, 
the  fondest  and  best  loved  part  of  ourselves.  The 
God  of  Abraham  bless  you,  my  child  !  Now,  sir, 
speak  !  what  is  it  you  require  of  me  ? 

I  told  the  Jew  that  I  must  have  a  suit  of  clothes 
conformable  to  the  appearance  of  a  Spanish  cava- 
lier, and  certain  medical  ingredients  that  I  named 
to  him,  together  with  his  chafing-dish  of  coals  to 
prepare  them ;  and  that  done,  I  would  then  im- 
pose on  him  no  further  trouble.  Having  received 
his  instructions,  he  immediately  set  out  to  pro- 
cure what  I  demanded.  He  took  with  him  the 
key  of  the  house ;  and  as  soon  as  he  was  gone,  I 
retired  with  the  child  into  the  inner  apartment, 
and  fastened  the  door.  At  first  I  applied  myself 
to  tranquillize  the  child,  who  had  been  somewhat 
alarmed  at  what  she  had  heard  and  seen :  this 
was  no  very  difficult  task.  She  presently  left  me, 
to  amuse  herself  with  some  playthings  that  lay 
scattered  in  a  corner  of  the  apartment.  My  heart 
was  now  comparatively  at  ease  ;  I  saw  the  power- 
ful hold  I  had  on  the  fidelity  of  the  Jew,  and 
firmly  persuaded  myself  that  I  had  no  treachery 
to  fear  on  his  part.  Thus  circumstanced,  the  ex- 
ertion and  activity  with  which  I  had  lately  been 
imbued  left  me,  and  I  insensibly  sank  into  a  sort 
of  slumber.     *     *     *     *     * 

Now,  for  the  first  time,  I  was  at  leisure  to  at- 
tend to  the  state  of  my  strength  and  my  health. 
My  confinement  in  the  Inquisition,  and  the  treat- 
ment I  had  experienced,  had  before  rendered  me 
feeble  and  almost  helpless  ;  but  these  appeared  to 
be  circumstances  scarcely  worthy  of  attention  in 
the  situation  in  which  I  was  then  placed.     The 


544 


THE  WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND  THE 


impulse  I  felt  in  the  midst  of  the  confusion  in  the 
grand  street  of  Valladolid,  produced  in  me  an 
energy  and  power  of  exertion  which  nothing  but 
the  actual  experience  of  the  fact  could  have  per- 
suaded me  was  possible.  This  energy-,  once  begun, 
appeared  to  have  the  faculty  of  prolonging  itself, 
and  I  did  not  relapse  into  imbecility  till  the  occasion 
seemed  to  be  exhausted  which  called  for  my  exer- 
tion I  examined  myself  by  a  mirror  with  which 
Mordecai  furnished  me  ;  I  found  my  hair  as  white 
as  snow,  and  my  face  ploughed  with  a  thousand 
furrows.  I  was  now  fifty-four,  an  age  which,  with 
moderate  exercise  and  a  vigorous  constitution, 
often  appears  like  the  prime  of  human  existence  ; 
but  whoever  had  looked  upon  me  in  my 
present  condition  would  not  have  doubted  to 
affirm  that  I  had  reached  the  eightieth  year  of  my 
ao-e  I  examined  with  dispassionate  remark  the 
state  of  my  intellect ;  I  was  persuaded  that  it  had 
subsided  into  childishness.  My  mind  had  been 
as  much  cribbed  and  impaired  as  my  body.  I 
was  the  mere  shadow  of  a  man,  of  no  more  power 
and  worth  than  that  which  a  magic  lantern  pro- 
duces upon  a  wall. 

#  *  * 

I  was  now  once   again  alone.     The  little  girl, 
who  had  been  unusually  disturbed  and  roused  at 
an  unseasonable  hour,  sunk  into  a  profound  sleep. 
I  heard  the  noise  which  Mordecai  made  in  un- 
dressing himself,  and  composing  his  limbs  upon 
a  mattress  which  he  had  dragged  for  the  present 
occasion  into  the  front  room,    and  spread  before 
the  hearth.     I  soon  found  by  the  hardness  of  his 
breathing  that  he  also  was  asleep.     I  unfolded  the 
papers  he  had  brought  me  ;  they  consisted  of  var- 
ious medical  ingredients  I  had  directed  him  to 
procure  ;  there  were  also  two  or  three  vials  con- 
taining syrups  and  essences.      I  had  near  me  a 
pair  of  scales  with  which  to  weigh  my  ingredients, 
a  vessel  of  water,  the  chafing-dish  of  my  host  in 
which  the  fire  was   nearly  extinguished,   and  a 
small  taper,  with  some  charcoal  to  relight  the  fire 
in  case  of  necessity.      While  I   was   occupied  in 
surveying  these  articles  and  arranging  my  mate- 
rials  a  sort  of  torpor  came  suddenly  over  me,  so 
as  to  allow  me  no  time  for  resistance.   I  sank  upon 
the   bed       I   remained    thus  for  about    half   an 
hour,  seemingly  without  the  power  of  collecting 
my  thoughts.     At  length  I  started,  felt  alarmed, 
and  applied  my  utmost  force  of  mind  to  rouse  my 
exertions.     While  I  drove,  or  attempted  to  drive, 


my  animal  spirits  from  limb  to  limb,   and  from 
part  to  part,  as  if  to  inquire  into  the  general  con- 
dition of  my  frame,   I  became  convinced  that  I 
was  dying.     Let  not  the  reader  be  surprised  at 
this ;  twelve  years'  imprisonment  in  a  narrow  and 
unwholesome  cell  may  well  account  for  so  sudden 
a  catastrophe.     Strange  and  paradoxical  as  it  may 
seem,  I  believe  it  will  be  found  in  the  experiment, 
that  the  calm  and  security  which  succeed  to  great 
internal   injuries   are   more  dangerous    than   the 
pangs  and  hardships  that  went  before.  I  was  now 
thoroughly  alarmed  ;    I  applied  myself  with  all 
vigilance  and  expedition  to  the  compounding  my 
materials.     The  fire  was  gone  out ;  the  taper  was 
glimmering  in  the  socket :  to  swallow  the  julep, 
when  I  had  prepared  it,  seemed  to  be  the  last 
effort  of  which  my  organs  and  muscles  were  capa- 
ble.    It   was  the  elixir  of   immortality,  exactly 
made  up  according    to   the   prescription   of   the 
stranger. 

Whether  from  the  potency  of  the  medicine  or 
the  effect  of  imagination,  I  felt  revived  the 
moment  I  had  swallowed  it.  I  placed  myself  de- 
liberately in  Mordecai's  bed,  and  drew  over  me 
the  bedclothes.     I  fell  asleep  almost  instantly. 

My    sleep    was    not  long  ;     in  a  few  hours  I 
awakened.      With    difficulty    I    recognized    the 
objects  about  me,    and  recollected  where  I  had 
been.     It  seemed  to  me  that  my  heart  had  never 
beat  so  vigorously,  nor  my  spirits  flowed  so  gay. 
I  was  all  elasticity  and  life  ;  I  could  scarcely  hold 
myself  quiet ;  I  felt  impelled  to  bound  and  leap 
like  a  kid  upon  the  mountains.     I  perceived  that 
my  little  Jewess  was  still  asleep  ;  she  had    been 
unusually  fatigued  the  night  before.     I  know  not 
whether  Mordecai's  hour  of  rising  were  come  ;  if 
it  were,  he  was  careful  not  to  disturb  his  guest. 
I  put  on  the  garments  he  had  prepared  ;  I  gazed 
upon  the  mirror  he  had  left  in  my  apartment.     I 
can  recollect  no  sensation  in  the  course  of  my  life 
so  unexpected  and  surprising  as  what  I  felt   at 
that  moment.     The  evening  before  I    had    seen 
my  hair  white,  and  my   face  ploughed  with  fur- 
rows ;  I  looked  fourscore.    What  I  beheld  now  was 
totally  different,  yet  altogether  familiar ;  it  was 
myself—myself  as  I  had  appeared  on  the  day  of 
my  marriage  with  Marguerite  de  Damville  ;  the 
eyes,  the  mouth,  the  hair,  the  complexion,  even- 
circumstance,  point  by  point,  the  same.    I  leaped 
a  gulf  of  thirty-two- years.  I  waked  from  a  dream, 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


u±5 


troublesome  and  distressful  beyond  all  descrip- 
tion ;  but  it  vanished  like  the  shades  of  night 
upon  the  burst  of  a  glorious  morning  in  Jul}',  and 
left  not  a  trace  behind.  I  knew  not  how  to  take 
away  my  eyes  from  the  mirror  before  me. 

I  soon  began  to  consider  that,  if  it  were  aston- 
ishing to  me  that,  through  all  the  regions  of  my 
countenance,  I  could  discover  no  trace  of  what  I 
had  been  the  night  before,  it  would  be  still  more 
astonishing  to  ruy  host.  This  sort  of  sensation  I 
had  not  the  smallest  ambition  to  produce : 
one  of  the  advantages  of  the  metamorphosis  I 
had  sustained,  consisted  in  its  tendency,  in 
the  eyes  of  all  that  saw  me,  to  cut  off 
every  species  of  connection  between  my  present 
and  my  former  self.  It  fortunately  happened  that 
the  room  in  which  I  slept,  being  constructed  upon 
the  model  of  many  others  in  Spain,  had  a  stair  at 
the  further  end,  with  a  trap-door  in  the  ceiling, 
for  the  purpose  of  enabling  the  inhabitant  to  as- 
cend on  the  roof  in  the  cool  of  the  day.  The 
roofs  were  flat,  and  so  constructed  that  there  was 
little  difficulty  in  passing  along  them  from  house 
to  house,  from  one  end  of  the  street  to  the  other. 
I  availed  myself  of  the  opportunity,  and  took 
leave  of  the  residence  of  my  kind  host  in  a  way 
perfectly  unceremonious,  determined,  however, 
speedily  to  transmit  to  him  the  reward  I  had 
promised.  It  may  easily  be  believed  that  Morde- 
cai  was  not  less  rej  oiced  at  the  absence  of  a  guest 
whom  the  vigilance  of  the  Inquisition  rendered  an 
uncommonly  dangerous  one,  than  I  was  to  quit 
his  habitation.  I  closed  the  trap  after  me,  and 
clambered  from  roof  to  roof  to  a  considerable  dis- 
tance. At  length  I  encountered  the  occasion  of 
an  open  window,  and  fortunately  descended,  un- 
seen by  any  human  being,  into  the  street. 


ay 


CONDEMNATION  AND  DEATH  OF  SOCRATES. 

JE  are  not  informed  when  Socrates  first  be- 
came distinguished  as  a  sophist ;  for  in 
that  description  of  men  he  was  in  his  own  day 
reckoned.  When  the  wit  of  Aristophanes  was 
directed  against  him  in  the  theatre,  he  was  already 
among  the  most  eminent,  but  his  eminence  seems 
to  have  been  then  recent.  It  was  about  the  tenth 
or  eleventh  year  of  the  Peloponnesian  war,  when 
he  was  six  or  seven  and  forty  years  of  age,  that 
after  the  manner  of  the  old  comedy,  he  was  offered 
to  public  derision  upon  the  stage  by  his  own 
name,  as  one  of  the  persons  of  the  drama,  in  the 
35 


comedy  of  Aristophanes,  called  "The  Clouds," 
which  is  yet  extant.  Some  antipathy,  it  appears, 
existed  between  the  comic  poets  collectively  and 
the  sophists  or  philosophers.  The  licentiousness 
of  the  former  could  indeed  scarcely  escape  the 
animadversion  of  the  latter,  who,  on  the  contrary, 
favored  the  tragic  poets,  competitors  with  the 
comedians  for  public  favor.  Euripides  and  Aris- 
tophanes were  particularly  enemies  ;  and  Socrates 
not  only  lived  in  intimacy  with  Euripides,  but  is 
said  to  have  assisted  him  in  some  of  his  tragedies. 
We  are  informed  of  no  other  cause  for  the  injur- 
ious representation  which  the  comic  poet  has 
given  of  Socrates,  whom  he  exhibits  in  The 
Clouds  as  a  flagitious  yet  ridiculous  pretender  to 
the  occult  sciences,  conversing  with  the  clouds  as 
divinities,  and  teaching  the  principal  youths  of 
Athens  to  despise  the  received  gods  and  to  cozen 
men.  The  audience,  accustomed  to  look  on 
defamation  with  carelessness,  and  to  hold  as  law- 
ful and  proper  whatever  might  amuse  the  multi- 
tude, applauded  the  wit,  and  even  gave  general 
approbation  to  the  piece  ;  but  the  high  estimation 
of  the  character  of  Socrates  sufficed  to  prevent 
that  complete  success  which  the  poet  had  promised 
himself.  The  crown  which  rewarded  him  whose 
drama  most  earned  the  public  favor,  and  which 
Aristophanes  had  so  often  won,  was  on  this  occa- 
sion refused  him. 

Two  or  three-and-twenty  years  had  elapsed 
since  the  first  representation  of  The  Clouds  ;  the 
storms  of  conquest  suffered  from  a  foreign  enemy, 
and  four  revolutions  in  the  civil  government  of 
the  country,  had  passed  ;  nearly  three  years  had 
followed  of  that  quiet  which  the  revolution  under 
Thrasybulus  produced,  and  the  act  of  amnesty 
should  have  confirmed,  when  a  young  man  named 
Melitus  went  to  the  kingarchon,  and  in  the  usual 
form  delivered  an  information  against  Socrates, 
and  bound  himself  to  prosecute.  The  informa- 
tion ran  thus  : — "  Melitus,  son  of  Melitus,  of  the 
borough  of  Pitthos,  declares  these  upon  oath 
against  Socrates,  son  of  Sophroniscus,  of  the 
borough  of  Alopece  :  Socrates  is  guilty  of  revil- 
ing the  gods  whom  the  city  acknowledges,  and 
of  preaching  other  new  gods  :  moreover,  he  is 
guilty  of  corrupting  the  youth.    Penalty,  death." 

Xenophon  begins  his  memorials  of  his  revered 
master,  with  declaring  his  wonder  how  the  Athe- 
nians could  have  been  persuaded  to  condemn  to 
death  a  man  of  such  uncommonly  clear  innocence 


SOCRATES  TEACHING  THE  YOUTHS  OF   ATHENS. 


(546) 


THE   BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


547 


and  exalted  worth.  ^Elian,  though  for  authority 
he  can  bear  no  comparison  with  Xenophon,  has 
nevertheless,  I  think,  given  the  solution.  "So- 
crates," he  says,  "disliked  the  Athenian  consti- 
tution ;  for  he  saw  that  democrac}'  is  tyrannical, 
and  abounds  with  all  the  evils  of  absolute  mon- 
archy." But  though  the  political  circumstances 
of  the  times  made  it  necessary  for  contemporary 
writers  to  speak  with  caution,  yet  both  Xenophon 


appointment  to  magistracy  by  lot.  "Thus," 
they  said,  "he  taught  his  numerous  followers, 
youths  of  the  principal  families  of  the  city,  to 
despise  the  established  government,  and  to  be 
turbulent  and  seditious  ;  and  his  success  had  been 
seen  in  the  conduct  of  two  of  the  most  eminent, 
Alcibiades  and  Critias.  Even  the  best  things  he 
converted  to  these  ill  purposes :  from  the  most 
esteemed  poets,  and  particularly  from  Homer,  he 


TRIUMPH   OF   A   GRECIAN   GENERAL   DURING   THK  TIME  OP  SOCRATES. 


and  Plato  have  declared  enough  to  show  that  the 
assertion  of  Jilian  was  well-founded  ;  and  farther 
proof,  were  it  wanted,  may  be  derived  from 
another  early  writer,  nearly  contemporary,  and 
deeply  versed  in  the  politics  of  his  age,  the  orator 
iEschines.  Indeed,  though  not  stated  in  the 
indictment,  yet  it  was  urged  against  Socrates  by 
his  prosecutors  before  the  court,  that  he  was 
disaffected  to  the  democracy  ;  and  in  proof,  they 
affirmed  it  to  be  notorious  that  he  had  ridiculed 
what   the  Athenian  constitution  prescribed,   the 


selected  passages  to  enforce  his  anti-democratical 
principles." 

Socrates,  it  appears,  indeed,  was  not  inclined  to 
deny  his  disapprobation  of  the  Athenian  consti- 
tution. His  defence  itself,  as  it  is  reported  by 
Plato,  contains  matter  on  which  to  found  an 
accusation  against  him  of  disaffection  to  the 
sovereignt3"  of  the  people,  such  as,  under  the 
jealous  tyranny  of  the  Athenian  democracy, 
would  sometimes  subject  a  man  to  the  penalties 
of  high  treason.      "You  well  know,"   he  says, 


548 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE  CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


"Athenians,  that  had  I  engaged  in  public  busi- 
ness, I  should  long  ago  have  perished  without 
procuring  any  advantage  either  to  you  or  to  my- 
self. L,et  not  the  truth  offend  you :  it  is  no 
peculiarity  of  your  democracy,  or  of  your  national 
character ;  but  wherever  the  people  is  sovereign, 
no  man  who  shall  dare  honestly  to  oppose  injustice 


of  the  labors  to  which  he  dedicated  himself,  to  in- 
fuse principles  into  the  rising  generation  that 
might  bring  about  the  desirable  change  insensibly. 
His  scholars  were  chiefly  sons  of  the  wealthiest 
citizens,  whose  easy  circumstances  afforded  leisure 
to  attend  him  ;  and  some  of  these  zealousl)'  adopt- 
ing his   tenets,  others,  merely   pleased  with   the 


DEATH  OF  SOCRATES. 


— frequent  and  extravagant  injustice — can  avoid 
destruction. " 

Without  this  proof,  indeed,  we  might  reason- 
ably believe,  that  though  Socrates  was  a  good  and 
faithful  subject  of  the  Athenian  government,  and 
would  promote  no  sedition,  no  political  violence, 
yet  he  could  not  like  the  Athenian  constitution. 
He  wished  for  wholesome  changes  by  gentle  means  ; 
and  it  seems  even  to  have  been  a  principal  object 


ingenuity  of  his  arguments  and  the  liveliness  of 
his  manner,  and  desirous  to  emulate  his  triumphs 
over  his  opponents,  were  forward,  after  his  exam- 
ple, to  engage  in  disputation  upon  all  the  subjects 
on  which  he  was  accustomed  to  discourse.  Thus 
employed,  and  thus  followed,  though  himself 
avoiding  office  and  public  business,  those  who 
governed  or  desired  to  govern  the  commonwealth 
through  their  influence  among  the  many,  might 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


549 


perhaps  not  unreasonably  consider  him  as  one  who 
■was  or  might  become  a  formidable  adversary,  nor 
might  it  be  difficult  to  excite  popular  jealousy 
against  him. 

By  the  course  of  his  life,  however,  and  by  the 
turn  of  his  thoughts  for  many  years,  he  had  so 
prepared  himself  for  all  events,  that,  far  from 
alarmed  at  the  probability  of  his  condemnation, 
he  rather  rejoiced  at  it,  as  at  his  age  a  fortunate 
occurrence.  He  was  persuaded  of  the  soul's 
immortality,  and  of  the  superintending  providence 
■of  an  ail-good  Deity,  whose  favor  he  had  always 
been  assiduously  endeavoring  to  deserve.  Men 
fear  death,  he  s;id,  as  if  unquestionably  the 
greatest  evil,  and  yet  no  man  knows  that  it  may 
not  be  the  greatest  good.  If,  indeed,  great  joys 
were  in  prospect,  he  might,  and  his  friends  for 
him,  with  somewhat  more  reason  regret  the  event ; 
but  at  his  years,  and  with  his  scanty  fortune — 
though  he  was  happy  enough  at  seventy  still  to 
preserve  both  body  and  mind  in  vigor — yet  even 
his  present  gratifications  must  necessarily  soon 
decay.  To  avoid,  therefore,  the  evils  of  age,  pain, 
sickness,  decay  of  sight,  decay  of  hearing,  per- 
haps decay  of  understanding,  by  the  easiest  of 
■deaths  (for  such  the  Athenian  mode  of  execution 
— by  a  draught  of  hemlock — was  reputed),  cheered 
with  the  company  of  surrounding  friends,  could 
not  be  otherwise  than  a  blessing. 

Xenophon  says  that,  by  condescending  to  a  little 
supplication,  Socrates  might  easily  have  obtained 
his  acquittal.  No  admonition  or  entreaty  of  his 
friends,  however,  could  persuade  him  to  such  an 
Tinworthiness.  On  the  contrary,  when  put  upon 
his  defence,  he  told  the  people  that  he  did  not 
plead  for  his  own  sake,  but  for  theirs,  wishing 
them  to  avoid  the  guilt  of  an  unjust  condemna- 
tion. It  was  usual  for  accused  persons  to  bewail 
their  apprehended  lot,  with  tears  to  supplicate 
favor,  and,  by  exhibiting  their  children  upon  the 
bema,  to  endeavor  to  excite  pity.  He  thought  it, 
he  said,  more  respectful  to  the  court,  as  well  as 
more  becoming  himself,  to  omit  all  this  ;  however 
aware  mat  their  sentiments  were  likely  so  far  to 
■difhr  irom  his,  that  judgment  would  be  given  in 
anger  for  it. 

Condemnation  pronounced  wrought  no  change 
upon  him.  He  again  addressed  the  court,  de- 
clared his  innocence  of  the  matters  laid  against 
him,  and  observed  that,  even  if  every  charge  had 
Oeen  completely  proved  still,  all  together  did  not, 


according  to  any  known  law,  amount  to  a  capital 
crime.  "But,"  in  conclusion  he  said,  "it  is 
time  to  depart — I  to  die,  you  to  live  ;  but  which 
for  the  greater  good,  God  only  knows. ' ' 

It  was  usual  at  Athens  for  execution  very  soon 
to  follow  condemnation — commonly  on  the  mor- 
row ;  but  it  happened  that  the  condemnation  of 
Socrates  took  place  on  the  eve  of  the  day  ap- 
pointed for  the  sacred  ceremony  of  crowning  the 
galley  which  carried  the  annual  offerings  to  the 
gods  worshipped  at  Delos,  and  immemorial  tradi- 
tion forbade  all  executions  till  the  sacred  vessel's 
return.  Thus,  the  death  of  Socrates  was  respited 
thirty  days,  while  his  friends  had  free  access  to 
him  in  prison.  During  all  that  time  he  admir- 
ably supported  his  constancy.  Means  were  con- 
certed for  his  escape  ;  the  jailer  was  bribed,  a 
vessel  prepared,  and  a  secure  retreat  in  Thessaly 
provided.  No  arguments,  no  prayers,  could  per- 
suade him  to  use  the  opportunity.  He  had  al- 
ways taught  the  duty  of  obedience  to  the  laws, 
and  he  would  not  furnish  an  example  of  the 
breach  of  it.  To  no  purpose  it  was  urged  that  he 
had  been  unjustly  condemned — he  had  always 
held  that  wrong  did  not  justify  wrong.  He 
waited  with  perfect  composure  the  return  of  the 
sacred  vessel,  reasoned  on  the  immortality  of  the 
soul,  the  advantage  of  virtue,  the  happiness  de- 
rived from  having  made  it  through  life  his  pursuit, 
and,  with  his  friends  about  him,  took  the  fatal 
cup  and  died. 

HOSPITALITY  OF  A  HEATHEN  WOMAN. 
BY  MUNGO  PARK. 

THE  great  traveller  had  reached  the  town  of 
Syo,  the  capital  of  Bambarra,  Africa,  and 
wished  to  cross  the  river  towards  the  residence  of 
the  king.     He  says  : 

I  waited  more  than  two  hours  without  having 
an  opportunity  of  crossing  the  river,  during  which 
time  the  people  who  had  crossed  carried  informa- 
tion to  Mansong,  the  king,  that  a  white  man  was 
waiting  for  a  passage,  and  was  coming  to  see  him. 
He  immediately  sent  over  one  of  his  chief  men, 
who  informed  me  that  the  king  could  not  possibly 
see  me  until  he  knew  what  had  brought  me  into 
his  country  ;  and  that  I  must  not  presume  to 
cross  the  river  without  the  king's  permission.  He 
therefore  advised  me  to  lodge  at  a  distant  village, 
to  which  he  pointed,  for  the  night,  and  said  that 
in  the  morning  he  would  trive  me  further  instruo- 


550 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


tions  how  to  conduct  myself.  This  was  very  dis- 
couraging. However,  as  there  was  no  remedy,  I 
set  off  for  the  village,  where  I  found,  to  my  great 
mortification,  that  no  person  would  admit  me  into 
his  house.  I  was  regarded  with  astonishment 
and  fear,  and  was  obliged  to  sit  all  da}-  without 
victuals  in  the  shade  of  a  tree ;  and  the  night 
threatened  to  be  very  uncomfortable — for  the 
wind  rose,  and  there  was  great  appearance  of  a 
aeavy  rain — and  the  wild  beasts  are  so  very  nu- 
merous in  the  neighborhood,  that  I  should  have 
Deen  under  the  necessity  of  climbing  up  the  tree 
and  resting  amongst  the  branches.  About  sun- 
set, however,  as  I  was  preparing  to  pass  the  night 
in  this  manner,  and  had  turned  my  horse  loose 
tnat  he  might  graze  at  liberty,  a  woman,  return- 
ing from  the  labors  of  the  field,  stopped  to  observe 
nu;,  and  perceiving  that  I  was  weary  and  dejected, 
inquired  into  my  situation,  which  I  briefly  ex- 
plained to  her  ;  whereupon,  with  looks  of  great 
?on,passion,  she  took  up  my  saddle  and  bridle, 
and  ;old  me  to  follow  her.  Having  conducted  me 
into  her  hut,  she  lighted  up  a  lamp,  spread  a  mat 
on  t.ie  floor,  and  told  me  I  might  remain  there  for 
the  :  .light.  Finding  that  I  was  very  hungry,  she 
said  ihe  would  procure  me  something  to  eat.  She 
accoi  dingly  went  out,  and  returned  in  a  short 
time  with  a  very  fine  fish,  which,  having  caused 
to  be  jialf  broiled  upon  some  embers,  she  gave  me 
for  si  pper.  The  rites  of  hospitality  being  thus 
perfoi  med  towards  a  stranger  in  distress,  my 
■worth  ;  benefactress  (pointing  to  the  mat,  and  tell- 
ing mt  I  might  sleep  there  without  apprehension,) 
called  vo  the  female  part  of  her  family,  who  had 
stood  gazing  on  me  all  the  while  in  fixed  aston- 
ishment, to  resume  their  task  of  spinning  cotton, 
in  which  they  continued  to  employ  themselves 
the  greater  part  of  the  night.  They  lightened  their 
labor  by  songs,  one  of  which  was  composed  ex- 
tempore, for  I  was  myself  the  subject  of  it.  It 
was  sung  by  one  of  the  young  women,  the  rest 
joining  in  a  sort  of  chorus.  The  air  was  sweet 
and  plaintive,  and  the  words,  literally  translated, 
were  these: — "  The  winds  roared,  and  the  rains 
fell.  The  poor  white  man,  faint  and  wean-,  came 
and  sat  under  our  tree.  He  has  no  mother  to 
bring  him  milk — no  wife  to  grind  his  corn. 
Chorus. — Let  us  pit}-  the  white  man — no  mother 
has  he,"  etc.,  etc.  Trifling  as  this  recital  rnay 
appear  to  the  reader,  to  a  person  in  my  situation 
the  circumstance  was  affecting  in  the  highest  de- 


gree. I  was  oppressed  by  such  unexpected  kind" 
ness,  and  sleep  fled  from  my  eyes.  In  the  morn- 
ing I  presented  my  compassionate  landlady  with 
two  of  the  four  brass  buttons  which  remained  on 
my  waistcoat — the  only  recompense  I  could  make 
her.  

A  FUNERAL  IN  ROME. 

ONE  da}-,  in  my  way  home,  I  met  a  funeral 
ceremony.  A  crucifix  hung  with  black, 
followed  by  a  train  of  priests,  with  lighted  tapers 
in  their  hands,  headed  the  procession.  Then 
came  a  troop  of  figures  dressed  in  white  robes, 
with  their  faces  covered  with  masks  of  the  same 
materials.  The  bier  followed,  on  which  lay  the 
corpse  of  a  young  woman  arrayed  in  all  the  orna- 
ments of  dress,  with  her  face  exposed,  where  the 
bloom  of  life  yet  lingered.  The  members  of  dif- 
ferent fraternities  followed  the  bier,  dressed  in  the 
robes  of  their  orders,  and  all  masked.  They  car- 
ried lighted  tapers  in  their  hands,  and  chanted  out 
prayers  in  a  sort  of  mumbling  recitative.  I  fol- 
lowed the  train  to  the  church,  for  I  had  doubts 
whether  the  beautiful  figure  I  had  seen  on  the 
bier  was  not  a  figure  of  wax  ;  but  I  was  soon  con- 
vinced it  was  indeed  the  corpse  of  a  fellow  crea- 
ture, cut  off  in  the  pride  and  bloom  of  youthful 
maiden  beauty.  Such  is  the  Italian  mode  of  con- 
ducting the  last  scene  of  the  tragi-comedy  of  life. 
As  soon  as  a  person  dies,  the  relatives  leave  the 
house,  and  fly  to  bury  themselves  and  their  griefs 
in  some  other  retirement.  The  care  of  the  funeral 
devolves  on  one  of  the  fraternities  who  are  asso- 
ciated for  this  purpose  in  every  parish.  These 
are  dressed  in  a  sort  of  domino  and  hood,  which, 
having  holes  for  the  eyes,  answers  the  purpose  of 
a  mask,  and  completely  conceals  the  face.  The 
funeral  of  the  very  poorest  is  thus  conducted  with 
quite  as  much  ceremony  as  needs  be.  This  is 
perhaps  a  better  system  than  our  own,  where  the 
relatives  are  exhibited  as  a  spectacle  to  imperti- 
nent curiosity,  whilst  from  feelings  of  duty  they 
follow  to  the  grave  the  remains  of  those  they 
loved.  But  ours  is  surely  an  unphilosophical 
view  of  the  subject.  It  looks  as  if  we  were  mate- 
rialists, and  considered  the  cold  clod  as  the  sole 
remains  of  the  object  of  our  affection.  The  Ital- 
ians reason  better,  and  perhaps  feel  as  much  as 
ourselves,  when  they  regard  the  body,  deprived 
of  the  soul  that  animated,  and  the  mind  that  in- 
formed it,  as  no  more  a  part  of  the  departed  spirit 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


551 


than  the  clothes  which  it  has  also  left  behind. 
The  ultimate  disposal  of  the  bod}-  is  perhaps  con- 
ducted here  with  too  much  of  that  spirit  which 
would  disregard  all  claims  that  ' '  this  mortal  coil ' ' 
can  have  to  our  attention.  As  soon  as  the  funeral 
service  is  concluded,  the  corpse  is  stripped  and 
consigned  to  those  who  have  the  care  of  the  inter- 
ment. There  are  large  vaults  underneath  the 
■churches  for  the  reception  of  the  dead.      Those 


prepared  for  their  reception, 
scene  of  the  drama  of  life. 


So  much  for  the  last 


VANITY  OF  AN  ESQUIMAU  WOMAN. 

BY    CAPTAIN    PARRY. 

THE  Esquimaux  exhibit  a  strange  mixture  of 
intellect  and  duluess,  of  cunning  and  sim- 
plicity, of  ingenuity  and  stupidity ;  few  of  them 
could  count  beyond  five,   and  not  one  of    them 


a  funeral  in 
who  can  afford  it,  are  put  into  a  wooden  shell  be- 
fore they  are  cast  into  one  of  these  Golgothas  ; 
but  the  great  mass  are  tossed  in  without  a  rag  to 
cover  them.  When  one  of  these  caverns  is  full, 
it  is  bricked  up  :  and  after  fifty  years  it  is  opened 
again,  and  the  bones  are  removed  to  other  places 


ANCIENT   ROME. 

beyond  ten,  nor  could  any  of  them  speak  a  dozen 
words  of  English  after  a  constant  intercourse  of 
seventeen  or  eighteen  months  ;  yet  many  of  them 
could  imitate  the  manners  and  actions  of  the 
strangers,  and  were  on  the  whole  excellent  mimics. 
One  woman  in  particular,  of  the  name  of  Iligluik, 


552 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


very-  soon  attracted  the  attention  of  our  voyagers 
by  the  various  traits  of  that  superiority  of  under- 
standing for  which,  it  was  found,  she  was  remark- 
ably distinguished,  and  held  in  esteem  even  by 
her  own  countrymen.  She  had  a  great  fondness 
for  singing,  possessed  a  soft  voice  and  an  ex- 
cellent ear  ;  but,  like  another  great  singer  who 
figured  in  a  different  society,  "  there  was  scarcely 
any  stopping  her  when  she  had  once  begun  ;"  she 
would  listen,  however,  for  hours  together  to  the 
tunes  played  on  the  organ.  Her  superior  intelli- 
gence was  perhaps  most  conspicuous  in  the  readi- 
ness with  which  she  was  made  to  comprehend  the 
manner  of  laying  down  on  paper  the  geographical 
outline  of  that  part  of  the  coast  of  America  she 
was  acquainted  with,  and  the  neighboring  islands, 
so  as  to  construct  a  chart.  At  first  it  was  found 
difficult  to  make  her  comprehend  what  was  meant; 
but  when  Captain  Parry  had  discovered  that  the 
Esquimaux  were  already  acquainted  with  the 
four  cardinal  points  of  the  compass,  for  which 
they'  have  appropriate  names,  he  drew  them  on  a 
sheet  of  paper,  together  with  that  portion  of  the 
coast  just  discovered,  which  was  opposite  to 
Winter  Island,  where  then  they  were,  and  of 
course  well  known  to  her. 

We  desired  her  to  complete  the  rest,  and  to  do 
it  mikkce  (small),  when,  with  a  countenance  of 
the  most  grave  attention  and  peculiar  intelligence 
she  drew  the  coast  of  the  continent  beyond  her 
own  country,  as  lying  nearly  north  from  Winter 
Island.  The  most  important  part  still  remained, 
and  it  would  have  amused  an  unconcerned  looker- 
on  to  have  observed  the  anxiety  and  suspense 
depicted  on  the  countenances  of  our  part  of  the 
group  till  this  was  accomplished,  for  never  were 
the  "tracings  of  a  pencil  watched  with  more  eager 
solicitude.  Our  surprise  and  satisfaction  may 
therefore  in  some  degree  be  imagined  when,  with- 
out taking  it  from  the  paper,  Iligluik  brought  the 
continental  coast  short  round  to  the  westward, 
and  afterwards  to  the  S.  S.  W.,  so  as  to  come 
within  three  or  four  days'  journey  of  Repulse 
Bay. 

I  am,  however,  compelled  to  acknowledge, that 
in  proportion  as  the  superior  understanding  of 
this  extraordinary  woman  became  more  and  more 
developed,  her  head  (for  what  female  head  is  in- 
different to  praise  ?)  began  to  be  turned  by  the 
general  attention  and  numberless  presents  she 
received.    The  superior  decency  and  even  modesty 


of  her  behavior  had  combined,  with  her  intel- 
lectual qualities,  to  raise  her  in  our  estimation 
far  above  her  companions  ;  and  I  often  heard 
others  express  what  I  could  not  but  agree  in,  that 
for  Iligluik  alone,  of  all  the  Esquimau  women, 
that  kind  of  respect  could  be  entertained  which 
modesty  in  a  female  never  fails  to  command  in 
our  sex.  Thus  regarded,  she  had  always  been 
freely  admitted  into  the  ships,  the  quarter-masters 
at  the  gangway  never  thinking  of  refusing  en- 
trance to  "  the  wise  woman,"  as  they  called  her. 
Whenever  any  explanation  was  necessary  between 
the  Esquimaux  and  us,  Iligluik  was  sent  for  as  an 
interpreter  ;  information  was  chiefly  obtained 
through  her,  and  she  thus  found  herself  rising 
into  a  degree  of  consequence  to  which,  but  for  us, 
she  could  never  have  attained.  Notwithstanding 
a  more  than  ordinary  share  of  good  sense  on  her 
part,  it  will  not  therefore  be  wondered  at  if  she 
became  giddy  with  her  exaltation — considered 
her  admission  into  the  ships  and  most  of  the 
cabins  no  longer  an  indulgence,  but  a  right — 
ceased  to  return  the  slightest  acknowledgment 
for  any  kindness  or  presents — became  listless  and 
inattentive  in  unravelling  the  meaning  of  our 
questions,  and  careless  whether  her  answers  con- 
veyed the  information  we  desired.  In  short, 
Iligluik  in  February  and  Iligluik  in  April  were 
confessedly  very  different  persons  ;  and  it  was  at 
last  amusing  to  recollect,  though  not  very  easy  to 
persuade  one's  self,  that  the  woman  who  now  sat 
demurely  in  the  chair,  so  confidently  expecting 
the  notice  of  those  around  her,  and  she  who  had 
at  first,  with  eager  and  wild  delight,  assisted  in 
cutting  snow  for  the  building  of  a  hut,  and  with 
the  hope  of  obtaining  a  single  needle,  were 
actually  one  and  the  same  individual. 

No  kind  of  distress  can  deprive  the  Esquimaux 
of  their  cheerful  temper  and  good  humor,  which 
they  preserve  even  when  severely  pinched  with 
hunger  and  cold,  and  wholly  deprived  for  days 
together  both  of  food  and  fuel — a  situation  to 
which  they  are  very  frequently  reduced.  Yet  no 
calamity  of  this  kind  can  teach  them  to  be  pro- 
vident, or  to  take  the  least  thought  for  the  mor- 
row ;  with  them,  indeed,  it  is  always  either  a  feast 
or  a  famine.  The  enormous  quantity  of  animal 
food  (they  have  no  other)  which  they  devour  at  a 
time  is  almost  incredible.  The  quantity  of  meat 
which  they  procured  between  the  first  of  October 
and  the  first  of  April  was  sufficient  to  have  fur- 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY 


006 


nished  about  double  the  number  of  working 
people,  who  were  moderate  eaters,  and  had  any 
idea  of  providing  for  a  future  day  ;  but  to  indi- 
viduals who  can  demolish  four  or  five  pounds  at 
a  sitting,  and  at  least  ten  in  the  course  of  a  day, 
and  who  never  bestow  a  thought  on  to-morrow, 
at  least  with  the  view  to  provide  for  it  by  economy, 
there  is  scarcely  any  supply  which  could  secure 
them  from  occasional  scarcity.  It  is  highly 
probable  that  the  alternate  feasting  and  fasting  to 
which  the  gluttony  and  improvidence  of  these 
people  so  constantly  subject  them,  may  have  oc- 
casioned many  of  the  complaints  that  proved 
fatal  during  the  winter  ;  and  on  this  account  we 
hardly  knew  whether  to  rejoice  or  not  at  the 
general  success  of  their  fishery. 


FEMALE  SOCIETY  IN  THE  CITY  OF  BAGDAD. 
BY  SIR  R.   K.  PORTER. 

CHE  wives  of  the  higher  classes  in  Bagdad  are 
usually  selected  from  the  most  beautiful 
girls  that  can  be  obtained  from  Georgia  and  Cir- 
cassia  ;  and,  to  their  natural  charms,  in  like  man- 
ner with  their  captive  sisters  all  over  the  East, 
they  add  the  fancied  embellishments  of  painted 
•complexions,  hands  and  feet  dyed  with  henna, 
and  their  hair  and  eyebrows  stained  with  the 
rang,  or  prepared  indigo  leaf.  Chains  of  gold, 
and  collars  of  pearls,  with  various  ornaments  of 
precious  stones,  decorate  the  upper  part  of  their 
persons,  while  solid  bracelets  of  gold,  in  shapes 
resembling  serpents,  clasp  their  wrists  and  ankles. 
Silver  and  golden  tissued  muslins  not  only  form 
their  turbans,  but  frequently  their  under  gar- 
ments. In  summer  the  ample  pelisse  is  made  of 
the  most  costly  shawl,  and  in  cold  weather,  lined 
and  bordered  with  the  choicest  furs.  The  dress  is 
altogether  very  becoming  ;  by  its  easy  folds  and 
glittering  transparency,  showing  a  fine  shape  to 
advantage,  without  the  immodest  exposure  of 
the  open  vest  of  the  Persian  ladies.  The  humbler 
females  generally  move  abroad  with  faces  totally 
unveiled,  having  a  handkerchief  rolled  around 
their  heads,  from  beneath  which  their  hair  hangs 
down  over  their  shoulders,  while  another  piece  of 
linen  passes  under  their  chin,  in  the  fashion  of  the 
Georgians.  Their  garment  is  a  gown  of  a  shift 
form,  reaching  to  their  ankles,  open  before,  and 
of  a  gray  color.  Their  feet  are  completely  naked. 
Many  of  the  very  inferior  classes  stain  their  bos- 
oms with  the  figures  of  circles,  half-moons,  stars. 


etc.,  in  a  bluish  stamp.  In  this  barbaric  embel- 
lishment the  poor  damsel  of  Irak  Arabi  has  one 
point  of  vanity  resembling  that  of  the  ladies  of 
Irak  Ajem.  The  former  frequently  adds  this 
frightful  cadaverous  hue  to  her  lips  ;  and,  to  com- 
plete her  savage  appearance,  thrusts  a  ring 
through  the  right  nostril,  pendent  with  a  flat-but- 
ton like  ornament  set  round  with  blue  or  red 
stones. 

But  to  return  to  the  ladies  of  the  higher  circles, 
whom  we  left  in  some  gay  saloon  of  Bagdad. 
When  all  are  assembled,  the  evening  meal  or  din- 
ner is  soon  served.  The  party,  seated  in  rows, 
then  prepare  themselves  for  the  entrance  of  the 
show,  which,  consisting  of  music  and  dancing, 
continues  in  noisy  exhibition  through  the  whole 
night.  At  twelve  o'clock  supper  is  produced, 
when  pilaus,  kabobs,  preserves,  fruits,  dried  sweet- 
meats, and  sherbets  of  every  fabric  and  flavor,  en- 
gage the  fair  convives  for  some  time.  Between 
this  second  banquet  and  the  preceding,  the  per- 
fumed nargileh  is  never  absent  from  their  rosy 
lips,  excepting  when  they  sip  coffee,  or  indulge 
in  a  general  shout  of  approbation,  or  a  hearty  peal 
of  laughter  at  the  freaks  of  the  dancers  or  the  sub- 
ject of  the  singers'  madrigals.  But  no  respite  is 
given  to  the  entertainers  ;  and,  during  so  long  a 
stretch  of  merriment,  should  any  of  the  happy 
guests  feel  a  desire  for  temporary  repose,  without 
the  least  apology  she  lies  down  to  sleep  on  the 
luxurious  carpet  that  is  her  seat ;  and  thus  she  re- 
mains, sunk  in  as  deep  oblivion  as  if  the  nummad 
were  spread  in  her  own  chamber.  Others  speed- 
ily follow  her  example,  sleeping  as  soundly  ;  not- 
withstanding the  bawling  of  the  singers,  the 
horrid  jangling  of  the  guitars,  the  thumping  on 
the  jar-like  double-drum,  the  ringing  and  clangor 
of  the  metal  bells  and  castanets  of  the  dancers, 
with  an  eternal  talking  in  all  keys,  abrupt 
laughter,  and  vociferous  expressions  of  gratifica- 
tion, making  in  all  a  full  concert  of  distracting 
sounds,  sufficient,  one  might  suppose,  to  awaken 
the  dead.  But  the  merry  tumult  and  joyful 
strains  of  this  conviviality  gradually  becoming 
fainter  and  fainter  ;  first  one  and  then  another  of 
the  visitors  (while  even  the  performers  are  not 
spared  by  the  soporific  god)  sink  down  under 
the  influence,  till  at  length  the  whole  carpet  is 
covered  with  the  sleeping  beauties,  mixed  indis- 
criminately with  handmaids,  dancers,  and  musi- 
cians, as  fast  asleep  as  themselves.     The  business, 


554 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


however,  is  not  thus  quietly  ended.  ' '  As  soon  as 
the  sun  begins  to  call  forth  the  blushes  of  the 
morn,  by  lifting  the  veil  that  shades  her  slumber- 
ing eyelids,"  the  faithful  slaves  rub  their  own 
clear  of  any  lurking  drowsiness,  and  then  tug 
their  respective  mistresses  by  the  toe  or  the 
shoulder,  to  rouse  them  up  to  perform  the  devo- 
tional ablutions  usual  at  the  dawn  of  day.  All 
start  mechanically,  as  if  touched  bjr  a  spell ;  and 
then  commences  the  splashing  of  water  and  the 
muttering  of  prayers,  presenting  a  singular  con- 
trast to  the  vivacious  scene  of  a  few  hours  before. 
This  duty  over,  the  fair  devotees  shake  their 
feathers  like  birds  from  a  refreshing  shower,  and 
tripping  lightly  forward  with  garments,  and  per- 
haps looks,  a  little  the  worse  for  wear  of  the  pre- 
ceding evening,  plunge  at  once  again  into  all  the 
depths  of  its  amusements.  Coffee,  sweetmeats, 
kaliouns,  as  before,  accompany  even-  obstreper- 
ous repetition  of  the  midnight  song  and  dance  ;  and 
all  being  followed  up  by  a  plentiful  breakfast  of 
rice,  meats,  fruits,  etc.,  towards  noon  the  party  sep- 
arate, after  having  spent  between  fifteen  and  six- 
teen hours  in  this  riotous  festivity. 


SACRIFICE  OF  A   HINDOO  WIDOW. 

nEWS  of  the  widow's  intentions  having 
spread,  a  great  concourse  of  people  of  both 
sexes,  the  women  clad  in  their  gala  costumes,  as- 
sembled round  the  pyre.  In  a  short  time  after 
their  arrival  the  fated  victim  appeared,  accom- 
panied by  the  Brahmins,  her  relatives,  and  the 
body  of  the  deceased.  The  spectators  showered 
ehaplets  of  mogree  on  her  head,  and  greeted  her 
appearance  with  laudatory  exclamations  at  her 
constancy  and  virtue.  The  women  especially 
pressed  forward  to  touch  her  garments — an  act 
which  is  considered  meritorious,  and  highly  de- 
sirable for  absolution  and  protection  from  the 
"  evil  eye." 

The  widow  was  a  remarkably  handsome  wo- 
man, apparentl}'  about  thirty,  and  most  superbly 
attired.  Her  manner  was  marked  by  great  apathy 
to  all  around  her,  and  by  a  complete  indifference 
to  the  preparations  which  for  the  first  time  met 
her  eye.  From  this  circumstance  an  impression 
was  given  that  she  might  be  under  the  influence 
of  opium  ;  and  in  conformity  with  the  declared  in- 
tention of  the  European  officers  present  to  interfere 
should  any  coercive  measures  be  adopted  by  the 
Brahmins  or  relatives,   two  medical  officers  were 


requested  to  give  their  opinion  on  the  subject. 
The}-  both  agreed  that  she  was  quite  free  from 
any  influence  calculated  to  induce  torpor  or  in- 
toxication. 

Captain  Burns  then  addressed  the  woman,  de 
siring  to  know  whether  the  act  she  was  about  to 
perform  were  voluntary  or  enforced,  and  assuring 
her  that,  should  she  entertain  the  slighest  reluc- 
tance to  the  fulfilment  of  her  vow,  he,  on  the  part 
of  the  British  government,  would  guarantee  the 
protection  of  her  life  and  property.  Her  answer 
was  calm,  heroic,  and  constant  to  her  purpose  : 
"I  die  of  my  own  free  will;  give  me  back  my 
husband,  and  I  will  consent  to  live  ;  if  I  die  not 
with  him,  the  souls  of  seven  husbands  will  con- 
demn me  !  " 

Ere  the  renewal  of  the  horrid  ceremonies  of 
death  were  permitted,  again  the  voice  of  merc3% 
of  expostulation,  and  even  of  entreaty  was  heard  - 
but  the  trial  was  vain,  and  the  cool  and  collected 
manner  with  which  the  woman  still  declared  her 
determination  unalterable,  chilled  and  startled  the 
most  courageous.  Physical  pangs  evidently  ex- 
cited no  fears  in  her  ;  her  singular  creed,  the  cus- 
toms of  her  country,  and  her  sense  of  conjugal 
duty,  excluded  from  her  mind  the  natural  emo- 
tions of  personal  dread  ;  and  never  did  martyr  to> 
a  true  cause  go  to  the  stake  with  more  constancy 
and  firmness,  than  did  this  delicate  and  gentle 
woman  prepare  to  become  the  victim  of  a  delib- 
erate sacrifice  to  the  demoniacal  tenets  of  her 
heathen  creed.  Accompanied  by  the  officiating 
Brahmin,  the  widow  walked  seven  times  round 
the  pyre,  repeating  the  usual  mantras,  or  prayers, 
strewing  rice  and  coories  on  the  ground,  and 
sprinkling  water  from  her  hand  over  the  bystand- 
ers, who  believe  this  to  be  efficacious  in  prevent- 
ing disease  and  in  expiating  committed  sins.  She 
then  removed  her  jewels,  and  presented  them  to 
her  relations,  saying  a  few  words  to  each  with  a 
calm  soft  smile  of  encouragement  and  hope.  The 
Brahmins  then  presented  her  with  a  lighted  torch, 
bearing  which,  she  stepped  through  the  fatal 
door,  and  sat  within  the  pile.  The  bod}-  of  her 
husband,  wrapped  in  rich  kinkaub,  was  then 
carried  seven  times  round  the  pile,  and  finally  laid 
across  her  knees.  Thorns  and  grass  were  piled 
over  the  door  :  and  again  it  was  insisted  that  free 
space  should  be  left,  as  it  was  hoped  the  poor 
victim  might  yet  relent,  and  rush  from  her  fiery 
prison  to  the  protection  so  freely   offered.     The 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


555 


command  was  readily  obeyed  ;  the  strength  of  a 
child  would  have  sufficed  to  burst  the  frail  bar- 
rier which  confined  her,  and  a  breathless  pause 
succeeded  ;  but  the  woman's  constancy  was  faith- 
ful to  the  last.  Not  a  sigh  broke  the  death-like 
silence  of  the  crowd,  until  a  slight  smoke,  curling 
from  the  summit  of  the  pj're,  and  then  a  tongue 
of  flame  darting  with  bright  and  lightning-like 
rapidity  into  the  clear  blue  sky,  told  us  that  the 
sacrifice  was  completed.  Fearlessly  had  this 
courageous  woman  fired  the  pile,  and  not  a  groan 
had  betrayed  to  us  the  moment  when  her  spirit 
fled.  At  sight  of  the  flame  a  fiendish  shout  of 
exultation  rent  the  air ;  the  tom-toms  sounded, 
the  people  clapped  their  hands  with  delight  as 
the  evidence  of  their  murderous  work  burst  on 
their  view,  whilst  the  English  spectators  of  this 
sad  scene  withdrew,  bearing  deep  compassion  in 
their  hearts,  to  philosophize  as  best  they  might 
on  a  custom  so  fraught  with  horror,  so  incompati- 
ble with  reason,  and  so  revolting  to  human  sym- 
pathy. The  pile  continued  to  burn  for  three 
hours ;  but,  from  its  form,  it  is  supposed  that 
almost  immediate  suffocation  must  have  termi- 
nated the  sufferings  of  the  unhappy  victim. 


ST.  GEORGE,  THE  PATRON  SAINT  OF 
ENGLAND. 
Q  AINTS  and  miracle-workers  flourished  abun- 
\>P  dantly  during  the  Middle  Ages,  and  the 
imaginations  of  the  people  were  fired  with  the 
recital  of  marvels  more  astounding  than  the 
highest  flights  of  fancy  in  the  "  Arabian  Nights." 
Many  of  the  saints  were  purely  imaginary  char- 
acters, invented  for  some  special  purpose  or  to 
suit  some  particular  occasion  ;  but  most  of  them 
were  real  personages  whose  deeds  were  excessively 
exaggerated.  A  reputation  for  piety  usually 
carried  with  it  a  belief  in  the  ability  to  work 
miracles,  and  if  the  saint,  from  honest  motives  or 
other  reasons,  refused  to  perform  them  on  his  own 
account,  they  were  usually  invented  for  him,  either 
before  or  after  his  death ;  and  these  inventions, 
being  of  the  most  vivid  and  picturesque  character, 
would  doubtless  greatly  astonish  the  saints  them- 
selves if  they  could  but  read  their  own  histories. 

Saint  George  was  the  special  or  patron  saint  of 
Chivalry,  and  was  adopted  in  a  similar  capacity 
by  the  English  at  a  very  early  date.  He  is  a 
prominent  figure  in  the  legendary  history  of  the 
English  people,  as  well  as  in  art ,  but  when  we 


look  for  historical  facts  in  his  life  we  are  met  with 
almost  a  total  blank.  It  is  probable  that  he  per- 
formed some  deed  of  heroism  for  the  relief  or  pro- 
tection of  some  eminent  female  in  trouble,  and  this 
grain  of  reality,  through  the  accretions  of  the 
ages,  grew  into  the  splendid  structure  of  fancy 
that  now  adorns  the  pages  of  romance. 

Eusebius,  the  father  of  ecclesiastical  history, 
mentions  a  person  who  is  supposed  by  some  to  be 
Saint  George.  He  says  that  on  the  promulgation 
of  the  edict  of  the  Emperor  Diocletian,  in  the 
third  century,  authorizing  the  persecution  of  the 
Christians,  "  a  certain  man  of  no  mean  origin,  but 
highly  esteemed  for  his  temporal  dignities,  as  soon 
as  the  decree  was  published  against  the  churches 
in  Nicomedia,  stimulated  by  a  divine  zeal,  and 
excited  by  an  ardent  faith,  took  it  as  it  was  openly 
placed  and  posted  up  for  public  inspection,  and 
tore  it  to  shreds  as  a  most  profane  and  wicked 
act.  This,  too,  was  done  when  the  two  Caesars 
were  in  the  city,  the  first  of  whom  was  the  eldest 
and  chief  of  all,  and  the  other  held  the  fourth 
grade  of  the  imperial  dignity  after  him.  But  this 
man,  as  the  first  that  was  distinguished  there  in 
this  manner,  after  enduring  what  was  likely  to 
follow  an  act  so  daring,  preserved  his  mind  calm 
and  serene  until  the  moment  when  his  spirit 
fled." 

The  rather  ambiguous  closing  sentence  means 
in  fact  that  the  man  who  performed  so  daring  a 
deed  was  soon  afterward  tortured  to  death,  accord- 
ing to  the  usual  custom  of  the  times ;  and  this 
person  has  been  generally  supposed  to  be  Saint 
George.  If  so,  this  is  about  all  we  know  authen- 
tic concerning  him. 

There  are  accounts  of  this  saint  both  in  Greek 
and  Latin,  the  latter  pretending  to  be  the  com- 
position of  a  servant  of  the  martyr  named  Pasi* 
kras ;  but  both  accounts  are  highly  colored  and 
utterly  improbable. 

The  Greek  belongs  to  the  sixth  century,  and  is 
in  substance  as  follows :  Saint  George  was  born 
of  Christian  parents  in  Cappadocia.  His  father 
suffered  a  martyr's  death,  and  the  mother,  with 
her  child,  took  refuge  in  Palestine.  At  an  early 
age  he  entered  the  Roman  army,  and  won  a  repu- 
tation for  courage  and  endurance.  At  the  age  of 
twenty  he  lost  his  mother,  who  left  him  a  large 
inheritance.  He  then  went  to  the  court  of  Dio- 
cletian, hoping  to  secure  advancement  in  the 
profession  of  arms.     But  on  the  breaking  out  of 


556 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


the  persecutions  lie  distributed  his  money  among 
the  poor,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  emperor 
boldly  declared  himself  a  Christian.  He  was 
immediately  ordered  to  renounce  his  faith  and 
sacrifice  to  the  Roman  gods,  or  suffer  the  conse- 
•quences.  He  chose  the  latter  alternative,  and 
"with  spears  against  his  body  was  at  once  thrust 
into  prison.  One  of  the  spears,  when  it  touched 
him,  snapped  like  straw.  He  was  thrown  upon 
his  back  in  the  dungeon,  his  feet  and  hands  made 
fast  to  posts,  and  a  heavy  stone  laid  upon  his 
breast,  but  the  power  of  God  was  with  him  and 
he  escaped  unharmed.  The  next  day  he  was 
bound  to  a  wheel  set  with  blades  and  swords,  but 
again  he  was  miraculously  preserved  from  harm. 
The  emperor  supposed  him  to  be  dead  ;  but  an  angel 
appeared  to  St.  George,  and  was  saluted  by  him 
in  the  military  fashion,  after  which  the  angel  ap- 
peared to  Diocletian  and  made  known  the  condi- 
tion of  the  prisoner  to  him.  He  was  then  released 
from  the  wheel,  and  it  was  discovered  that  all  his 
•wounds  were  healed.  After  this  he  was  cast  into 
a  pit  of  quick-lime,  but  it  did  not  harm  him  ;  and 
two  days  later,  when  the  emperor  sent  to  have  his 
limbs  broken,  he  was  found  on  his  knees  praying 
and  perfectly  whole.  He  was  next  made  to  run 
in  red-hot  iron  shoes,  but  suffered  no  inconven- 
ience on  that  account.  The  following  night  he 
spent  in  prayer,  and  on  the  sixth  day  he  appeared 
before  Diocletian  walking  and  unhurt.  He  was 
then  scourged  with  thongs  of  hide  until  his  flesh 
came  off  his  back,  but  he  was  well  the  next  day. 
On  the  seventh  day  he  drank  the  contents  of  two 
cups,  whereof  the  one  was  prepared  to  make  him 
mad,  and  the  other  to  poison  him,  but  he  experi- 
enced no  ill-effects  from  the  draughts.  He  then 
performed  some  miracles,  raised  a  dead  man  to 
life,  and  restored  life  to  an  ox  which  had  been 
killed — miracles  which  caused  great  astonishment 
and  resulted  in  many  conversions.  That  night 
he  dreamed  that  the  Saviour  laid  a  golden  crown 
on  his  head,  and  bade  him  prepare  for  Paradise, 
by  which  he  knew  that  his  decease  was  near  at 
hand.  He  called  to  him  the  servant,  who  claimed 
to  write  these  memoirs,  and  commanded  him, 
after  his  death,  to  remove  his  body  and  his  will 
to  Palestine.  On  the  eighth  day,  by  the  sign  of 
the  cross,  he  forced  the  devil  inhabiting  the  statue 
of  Apollo  to  declare  that  he  was  a  fallen  angel, 
when  all  the  statues  of  the  gods  fell  down  before 


him.  This  miracle  converted  the  Empress  Alex- 
andra ;  and  Diocletian  wras  so  exasperated  against 
the  truth  that  he  condemned  her  to  instant  death. 
She  was  executed,  with  three  of  her  servants, 
Apollo,  Isaac,  and  Creates,  who  were  converted 
with  her.  This  empress  is  commemorated  in  the 
Greek  Church  on  the  21st  of  April;  and  the 
names  of  her  servants  are  entered  in  the  Latin 
catalogue  of  martyrs,  although  she  herself  was 
excluded.  Two  days  later  St.  George  died  and 
received  his  crown. 

So  much  for  the  Greek  legends  concerning  this 
saint.  The  Latin  account  may  be  summed  up  as 
follows : 

The  devil  urges  Dacian,  emperor  of  the  Per- 
sians, to  persecute  the  Church.  At  this  time  there 
lived  at  Melitena,  with  a  holy  widow,  a  devout 
Christian  named  George.  He  was  subjected  to 
numerous  tortures,  such  as  the  rack,  hot  iron 
pincers,  fire,  a  sword-spiked  wheel,  shoes  nailed 
to  his  feet,  etc.  ;  he  was  put  into  an  iron  box,  set 
within  with  sharp  nails,  and  flung  down  a  preci- 
pice ;  he  was  beaten  -with  sledge-hammers,  a 
heavy  stone  pillar  was  laid  upon  him,  a  large 
stone  was  dashed  against  his  head ;  he  was 
stretched  upon  a  red-hot  iron  bed,  and  melted 
lead  poured  over  him ;  he  was  cast  into  a  well 
and  transfixed  with  large  nails ;  he  was  enclosed 
in  the  stomach  of  a  brazen  bull  and  placed  over 
a  hot  fire,  after  which  he  was  cast  into  another 
deep  well  with  a  heavy  stone  around  his  neck. 
Each  time  that  he  returned  from  a  torment  he 
was  restored  to  full  vigor.  His  tortures  lasted 
for  seven  years,  and  we  may  naturally  suppose 
that  he  became  somewhat  hardened  to  them.  He 
was  a  tough  saint !  His  constancy  and  miracles 
during  these  long  years  were  the  means  of  con- 
verting 40,900  men,  besides  the  Empress  Alex- 
andra. The  women  and  children  were  not 
counted ;  he  was  satisfied  with  the  men,  and  was 
very  particular  to  record  the  exact  number.  After 
all  this,  Dacian  ordered  the  execution  of  St. 
George  and  the  empress,  and  as  they  died  a 
whirlwind  of  fire  consumed  and  carried  off  the 
persecutor. 

All  this  string  of  nonsense  was  recorded  as 
true  history  by  two  of  the  brothers  of  the  Church ; 
but  Pope  Gelasius  rejected  their  "histories"  as 
the  work  of  heretics.  If  the  fact  were  not  well 
attested  by  the   records  of  infallible  history,   it 


EEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


557 


would  be  impossible  to  believe  that  such  follies 
were  resorted  to,  in  the  earl}r  days  of  the  Church, 
for  the  conversion 
of  the  people. 

In  Europe  the 
story  of  St.  George 
became  popular- 
ized under  a  to- 
tal ly  different 
form,  as  far  re- 
moved from  truth 
as  either  the  Greek 
or  Latin  version. 
It  is  in  substance 
as  follows ; 

George,  a  tri- 
bune, was  born  in 
Cappadocia,  and 
came  to  Libya,  to 
the  town  called 
Silene,  near  which 
was  a  ford  infested 
by  a  monster  that 
had  man)-  times 
driven  back  armed 
hosts  sent  to  de- 
stroy him.  He  even 
had  the  audacity 
to  approach  the 
walls  of  the  city, 
and  with  his  ex- 
halations poisoned 
all  who  came  near. 
To  satisfy  his  vo- 
racity and  prevent 
such  unwelcome 
visits,  he  was  each 
day  supplied  with 
two  full-grown 
sheep.  When  the 
sheep  were  ex- 
hausted, the  sons 
and  daughters  of 
the  people  were 
cast  to  the  dragon, 
.as  it  was  thought 
better  to  sacrifice 
these   rather    than 

allow  him  to  destroy  the  whole  town.  The 
lot  fell  one  day  on  the  princess,  a  beautiful, 
innocent  girl,  with  golden  hair  and  large,   soft 


eyes  that  could  melt  with  tears  of  pity  for  the  dis- 
tressed or  burn  with  the  heavenly  fire  of  love. 


THE   KING  S   DAUGHTER. 

The  king  covered  his  child  with  the  royal  robes 
and  sent  her  forth  alone  to  meet  the  dragon.  At 
this  moment  St.    George  was  riding  by,  clad  in 


ooS 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


glittering  mail  and  armed  with  a  spear;  and  see- 
ing the  maiden  in  tears,  standing  on  the  margin 
of  the  pond,  with  the  monster  rising  out  of  the 
thick  and  murky  water  to  devour  her,  he  com- 
mended himself  to  God,  and  dashed  upon  the 
dragon  with  his  spear  in  his  hand.  At  one  stroke 
he  transfixed  the  monster,  and  then  bade  the 
princess  pass  her  girdle  round  it  and  fear  nothing. 
When  this  was  done  the  dragon  followed  like  a 
docile  hound,  and  they  led  it  into  the  city,  where 
all  the  people  fled  from  it  in  terror;  but  St. 
George  recalled  them  and  quieted  their  ap- 
prehensions. Then  the  king  and  all  his  peo- 
ple, amounting  to  twenty  thousand  men,  with- 
out counting  women  and  children,  were  baptized, 
and  St.  George  smote  off  the  head  of  the 
monster. 

Other  versions  of  the  story  are  to  the  effect 
that  the  princess  was  shut  up  in  a  castle,  and 
that  all  within  were  perishing  for  water,  which 
could  be  obtained  only  from  a  fountain  at  the 
base  of  a  hill,  and  this  was  guarded  by  the  dra- 
gon, from  which  St.  George  delivered  them. 

This  story  was  accepted  by  the  writers  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  and  found  its  way  into  the  records 
of  the  Church,  the  missals  and  breviaries,  whence 
it  was  cut  out  by  order  of  Pope  Clement  VII. , 
and  St.  George  was  simply  acknowledged  as  a 
martyr  reigning  with  Christ.  Calvin  was  the 
first  to  declare  his  conviction  that  St.  George  was 
a  myth,  a  mere  creation  of  some  one's  imagina- 
tion ;  but  his  argument  was  demolished  by  the 
learned  Peter  Heylyn,  who  proved,  to  his  own 
satisfaction  at  least,  that  the  patron  saint  of  chiv- 
alry was  a  reality.  We  may  remark,  by  way  of 
parenthesis,  that  it  required  very  little  evidence, 
in  those  days,  to  prove  an  absurdity. 

Gibbon  identifies  Saint  George  with  the  Arian 
Bishop  of  Alexandria,  of  that  name,  whose  fame, 
by  the  way,  was  not  first-class — not  at  all  becom- 
ing that  of  a  saint ;  though  it  must  be  admitted 
that  there  were  many  saints  of  the  Middle  Ages 
whose  reputations  were  not  of  the  most  savory 
character. 

The  story  of  this  Arian  Saint  George  is  in  sub- 
stance as  follows  : 

He  was  bom  in  a  fuller's  mill,  at  Epiphania,  in 
Silicia.  His  first  occupation  was  that  of  purveyor 
of  bacon  to  the  army  at  Constantinople,  where, 
according  to  the  testimony  of  Saint  Athanasius, 


he  made  large  profits,  not  in  the  most  honest 
manner.  In  short,  he  did  what  was  done  by 
man}-  quartermasters  during  our  late  war,  enriched 
himself  while  serving  his  country.  Being  found 
out,  he  fled  to  Cappadocia,  where  he  began  to 
pose  as  a  saint.  His  religion  was  of  that  elastic 
kind  which  accommodates  itself  to  circumstances, 
and  he  accordingly  made  a  profession  of  Ariauism, 
because  that  style  of  religion  was  then  in  fashion, 
at  court.  He  rendered  himself  useful  in  cer- 
tain devious  ways,  so  that  his  past  sins  were  over- 
looked and  pardoned.  He  made  a  pretence  of 
learning,  and  collected  a  large  library  ;  and  was 
eventually  promoted  to  the  throne  of  Saint  Atha- 
nasius. His  entrance  into  ecclesiastical  authority 
was  that  of  a  barbarian  conqu^ior,  and  his  reign 
was  polluted  by  cruelty  and  avarice. 

The  Catholics  of  Alexandria  and  Egypt  were 
subjected  to  all  sorts  of  outrages ;  in  fact,  he  op- 
pressed with  an  impartial  hand  the  various  in- 
habitants of  his  diocese.  As  primate  of  Egypt, 
he  assumed  pomp  and  insolence  in  his  lofty  sta- 
tion, but  could  not  conceal  the  vices  of  his  base 
and  servile  extraction.  The  merchants  of  Alex- 
andria were  impoverished  by  the  unjust  and  al- 
most exclusive  monopoly  which  he  acquired  in 
the  sale  of  nitre,  salt,  paper,  the  conducting  of 
funerals,  etc.  ;  and  it  is  said  that  he  even  conde- 
scended to  the  vile  acts  of  an  informer.  The 
pagans  excited  his  devout  avarice,  and  their  rich 
temples  in  Alexandria  were  either  pillaged  or 
insulted  by  this  haughty  prelate,  who  exclaimed 
in  a  loud  and  threatening  tone,  "  How  long  shall 
these  sepulchres  be  permitted  to  stand?" 

But  the  accession  of  the  apostate  Julian  caused 
the  downfall  of  George.  He  and  two  of  his 
obsequious  retainers,  Diodorus  and  Dracontius, 
were  ignominiously  dragged  to  the  common 
prison.  At  the  end  of  twenty  days,  the  prison 
was  forced  open  by  an  enraged  heathen  multi- 
tude, and  the  three  prisoners  were  torn  to  pieces 
and  their  bodies  cast  into  the  sea. 

It  is  hardly  possible  that  such  an  infamous 
character  as  the  one  just  described,  could  have 
been  transformed,  even  with  the  aid  of  the  most 
vivid  imagination,  into  a  saint ;  and  Gibbon  must 
therefore  have  made  a  mistake  in  confounding 
the  mythical,  but  just  and  pure  Saint  George, 
with  the  licentious  and  tyrannical  Bishop  of 
Alexandria. 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


559 


A  HISTORY  OF  DUELLING  AND  SOME  FAMOUS 
DUELS. 

CHE  most  ancient  and  illustrious  duel  that  we 
have  an}-  authentic  account  of,  is  the  one 
that  was  fought  between  David,  the  shepherd 
lad,  and  the  champion  of  the  Philistines.  The 
result,  in  this  combat,  was  favorable  to  the  cause 
of  right  and  justice  ;  but  it  has  not  been  always 
so  in  the  case  of  other  duels  fought  since  that 
time. 

When  the  northern  barbarians  overran  the 
Roman  empire,  they  introduced  single  combats  as 
a  proof  of  divine  right,  and  the  ordeal  was  accord- 
ingly accompanied  by  religious  ceremonies.  The 
duel  was  formally  legalized  as  a  decisive  test  of 
right,  by  Gundebold,  king  of  the  Burgundians, 
about  the  year  500,  and  Tacitus  mentions  the 
custom  as  prevailing  extensively  among  the 
Germans  previous  to  that  date.  During  the 
Middle  Ages,  duels  were  patronized  by  mon- 
archs,  and  approved  as  judicial  ordeals  by  the 
clergy  and  the  courts.  By  the  truce  of  God  of 
1041,  they  were  not  permitted  between  Wednes- 
day and  Monday,  the  intervening  days  being 
held  sacred  to  Christ's  passion.  The  custom  was 
greatly  abused,  and  various  monarchs,  at  different 
eras,  attempted  to  curb  it  or  bring  it  within  legal 
restrictions,  but  their  efforts  were  not  attended 
with  flattering  success.  In  1386,  one  Jacques 
Eagris  was  accused  of  violence  to  a  lady.  He 
denied  the  crime,  was  forced  to  accept  the  ordeal 
of  battle,  was  overcome,  and  being  adjudged 
guilty,  was  hanged  ;  but  subsequently  another 
person  confessed  that  he  was  the  criminal.  This 
made  a  profound  impression,  and  caused  the  abo- 
lition of  the  judicial  ordeal.  From  this  date  the 
character  of  the  duel  underwent  a  complete 
change,  and  its  subsequent  history  exhibits  it 
solely  in  the  light  of  an  attempt  to  obtain  satis- 
faction for  an  injury,  particularly  an  insult.  This 
idea  owes  its  prevalence  largely  to  Francis  the 
First,  of  France,  who  laid  down  the  principle 
"  that  the  lie  was  never  to  be  put  up  with,  with- 
out satisfaction,  except  by  base-born  fellows;" 
and  lies  were  divided  into  thirty-two  classes,  each 
having  its  mode  of  satisfaction.  Through  the 
influence  of  Francis,  duelling  became  a  custom 
throughout  his  dominions,  and  it  spread  from 
thence  to  the  other  continental  countries  and  to 
England. 

International  disputes  and  quarrels  were  sub- 


mitted to  the  arbitrament  of  amis,  and  "  the  chal- 
lenge of  the  king"  was  the  highest  form  of  the 
duel.  It  was  not  the  custom  for  kings  to  send  or 
accept  challenges,  except  from  persons  of  their 
own  station,  so  that  a  kingly  challenge  usually 
meant  a  war  between  two  or  more  nations.  On 
some  occasions,  however,  they  entered  the  lists 
and  tested  their  prowess  and  skill  in  friendly  tour- 
naments with  their  subjects.  Henry  II. ,  of  France, 
was  mortally  wounded  in  a  combat  of  this  kind, 
which  he  fought  with  the  Count  de  Montgomery, 
a  captain  of  his  guard,  in  Jul}-,  1559.  The  point 
of  the  count's  lance  entered  the  king's  visor,  in- 
flicting the  wound  from  which  he  died. 

When  Henry  III.,  of  France,  died,  one  of  his 
courtiers,  anxious  to  make  a  display  of  his  loyal 
grief,  swore  that  he  would  not  survive  him,  and 
threw  a  challenge  into  the  air.  Another  lord 
picked  it  up,  and  sent  him  to  join  his  master. 
Such  were  the  pastimes  of  the  nobility  in  those 
days.  When  Henry  the  Fourth  was  challenged, 
he  fought  not  in  person,  but  by  deputy,  on  the 
ground  that,  as  there  was  no  person  in  the  king- 
dom of  equal  station  with  himself,  he  could  not 
personally  engage  in  a  combat  of  that  sort.  At 
the  same  time  he  was  perfectly  willing  to  allow 
an}r  gentleman  who  felt  himself  aggrieved  to  seek 
satisfaction  by  crossing  swords  with  a  deputy. 
This  was  a  comfortable  and  pleasant  way  of 
fighting,  and  Henry's  good  sense  is  highly  com- 
mendable. 

Duelling  iu  France  reached  its  height  of  savage 
ferocity  under  Louis  XIII.  It  was  the  custom 
then  for  the  combatants  to  hold  each  other  by 
their  left  hands,  while  with  their  right  they  cut 
and  slashed  one  another  with  daggers  or  short 
swords.  Such  duels  were  bloody  and  brutal  in 
the  extreme,  and  frequently  ended  in  the  death 
of  both  parties.  Another  custom  prevailed  dur- 
ing the  same  period  of  turning  the  combatants 
loose  in  a  darkened  room,  and  allowing  them  to 
cut  one  another's  throats.  A  humorous  incident 
is  related  iu  this  connection.  A  gentleman  had 
been  challenged  who  was  opposed  to  fighting,  and 
had  no  desire  to  take  the  life  of  his  enemy. 
Being  the  challenged  party,  he  had  choice  of 
weapons,  and  he  selected  pistols,  as  they  were 
quicker  in  action  and  less  barbarous  than  the 
knife.  On  being  left  alone  with  his  antagonist 
in  the  darkened  room,  and  desiring  to  convince 
him  of  his  friendly  intentions  in  the  most  emphatic 


THE   BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


561 


manner,  he  groped  his  way  to  the  fire-place  and 
discharged  his  pistol  up  the  chimnej-,  but  unfor- 
tunately brought  down 


erected    a    gallows    for    the 
survive    a    certain    combat  ; 


party  who    should 
yet  having  struck 


.<4     .ferjr 


his  opponent,  who  had 
taken  refuge  there. 

During  the  ascend- 
ency of  the  Puritans 
in  England  efforts 
were  made  to  sup- 
press duelling  ;  it  was 
looked  upon  as  aris- 
tocratic, and  therefore 
reprehensible,  and  the 
life  of  every  man  was 
said  to  belong  to  his 
country.  When  the 
reaction  commenced 
the  custom  was  re- 
vived, because  of  the 
ascendency  of  the  mili- 
tary class. 

Napoleon    was    bit- 

terlv    averse    to    the  wounding  of  henry  n.  in  a  tournament. 

code,  but  public  opinion  compelled  him  to  toler-      an   officer  in   a   fit   of  passion,  he   offered    him 
ate  it,   even  while  expressing  his  contempt  for      "the  satisfaction  of  a  gentleman." 


The  first  duel  in 
America  took  place 
in  162 1,  at  Plymouth, 
between  two  serving 
men.  They  were  tried 
and  sentenced  to  be 
tied  together  neck 
and  heels  for  twenty - 
four  hours,  but  a  por- 
tion of  the  punish- 
ment was  remitted. 
In  1728  two  young 
men  named  Wood- 
bridge  and  Phillips 
fought  a  duel  in  Bos- 
ton Commons,  after 
dark  and  without  sec- 
onds. Swords  were 
the  weapons  used, 
and  Woodbridge  was 
killed.  Phillips  got 
on  board  a  man-of- 
war  and  escaped  to 
France.  This  incident 
and  new    and   severe 


A  duel  with  battle-axes. —  (Copy  of  an  engraving  of  the  fifteenth  century.) 

those  who  engaged  in  it.      Gustavus  Adolphus      created  a  great  sensation, 
was  also  opposed  to  duelling,  and  on  one  occasion      laws  were  enacted  against  duelling.     In   1785   a 
36 


AG: 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


Captain  Gunn  twice  challenged  General  Greene, 
the  Revolutionary  hero,  and  threatened  a  personal 
assault  if  he  refused  to  meet  him.  Greene  wrote 
to  Washington,  and  acknowledged  that  he  would 
accept  the  challenge  if  he  thought  his  honor 
would  suffer  by  a  refusal,  but  that  he  did  not 
think  the  circumstances  justified  an  acceptance. 
Washington  heartily  approved  cf  his  course. 
Andrew  Jackson  killed  Charles  Dickinson  in  a 
duel,  and  was  engaged  in  other  "  aff?;rs 
of  honor;"  yet  when  he  was  President  in 
1S30  he  caused  the  names  of  four  naval 


evidence  of  courage  to  send  or  accept  a  challenge, 
but  quite  the  contrary. 

The  latest  noted  duel  in  this  country  occurred 
a  few  months  since,  in  Alabama,  between  two 
negroes  who  were  rivals  for  the  affections  of 
the  same  colored  damsel.  The  meeting  took 
place  in  the  earl}-  morning,  on  the  banks  of  the 
Tombigbee  river.  The  challenger  came  on  the 
ground  first,  where  he  was  surprised  to  find  a 
large  concourse  of  people  whose  curi- 
osity had  attracted  them  to  the  spot 
to    witness    the    ' '  affair. ' '      It  could 


A  TrvriNC  Tournament  of  THE  sixteenth  century. — (Copy  of  ancient  engraving-.! 


officers    to  be    stricken   from   the    rolls    because 
they  had  engaged  in  a  duel. 

At  present  there  are  strict  laws  against  duel- 
ling in  all  the  States,  and  public  opinion  is  very 
decidedly  opposed  to  the  custom  ;  so  much  so,  in 
fact,  that  those  who  engage  in  it  are  usually  sub- 
jected to  the  ridicule  and  contempt  of  their  ac- 
quaintances.     It    is    110    longer    considered  an 


be  plainly  seen  that  he  was  greatly  agitated 
over  the  approaching  event,  and  as  the  mo- 
ments went  by  his  cheeks  blanched  with  terror. 
Finally,  when  his  antagonist,  accompanied  by  his 
second,  appeared,  and  preparations  for  the  deadly 
combat  were  commenced,  he  could  bear  the 
strain  no  longer.  His  life  seemed  dearer  to  him 
than  ever  before,  now  that  there  was  a  chance  of 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


o(J8 


his  losing  it.  He  even  forgot  his  honor,  and  the 
smile  of  his  dusky  Dulcinea,  and  turning  with  a 
howl  of  terror,  he  fled  from  the  spot,  plunged  into 
the  river,  and  swimming  across,  sought  safety  in 
a  dense  forest  on  the  opposite  side,  followed  by  the 
shouts  and  derisive  laughter  of  the  amused 
crowd. 

Famous   Duel  of  the   14th  Century  between  Sir  John  De 
Carogne  and  James  Le  Gris. 

This  was  the  last  judicial    combat   that   took 
place  in  France  under  the  award  of  Parliament. 


then  a  young  and  very  beautiful  lady,  and  leav- 
ing her  safe  and  comfortable  in  his  castle  of 
Argentiel,  he  began  his  journey  toward  the  sea- 
side. His  wife  remained  in  the  castle,  with  her 
household,  living  in  the  most  decent  and  orderly 
manner,  and  above  all  reproach. 

At  this  time  there  belonged  also  to  the  house- 
hold of  Count  d'Alencon,  a  squire  named  James 
Le  Gris,  whom  the  count  loved  above  all  others, 
and  placed  the  most  unlimited  confidence  in  him. 
This  man  became  infatuated    with    the   beauty 


TRIAL   OF   LE   GRIS   BBFORE  THE   COUNT    D'ALENCON. 


It  occurred  in  1337,  and  the  peculiar  circum- 
stances attending  and  preceding  it,  gave  it  a  na- 
tional reputation.  The  king  and  his  court  were 
present  at  the  fatal  contest,  and  all  the  particulars 
are  related  in  full  by  Sir  John  Froissart,  from 
whose  writings  this  account  is  made  up.  It  was 
one  of  the  most  celebrated  duels  of  the  roman- 
ce days  of  chivalry,  but  is  representative  of 
many  others  of  its  class,  and  is  therefore  enti- 
tled to  a  place  in  this  work. 

Sir  John  de  Carogne,  having  decided  to  seek 
glory  in  the  Holy  Land,  took  leave  of  his  lord, 
the  Count   d'Alencon,   and  of  his  wife,  who  was 


of  Lady  Carogne,  and  emboldened  by  the  absence 
of  her  husband,  he  decided  to  take  a  mean  and 
dishonorable  advantage  of  her.  According^  he 
set  out  one  da}-,  mounted  on  the  finest  horse  in  the 
stables  of  the  count,  and  in  due  time  arrived,  in 
full  gallop,  at  the  castle  of  Argentiel,  where  he 
dismounted.  The  servants  made  a  handsome  en- 
tertainment for  him,  because  they  knew  he  was  a 
particular  friend  of  their  master ;  and  the  lady, 
thinking  no  ill,  received  him  with  pleasure,  led 
him  to  her  apartment,  and  showed  him  her  fancy 
work,  surf)  as  ladies  delight  in.  But  he  was 
fully  intent  upon  accomplishing  his  wicked  pur- 


504 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


pose,  and  begged  her  to  conduct  him  to  the  dun- 
geon, claiming  that  the  object  of  his  visit  was  prin- 
cipally to  examine  that,  as  it  was  built  upon  a  plan 
somewhat  different  from  others  of  that  period. 
She  readily  complied,  and  led  him  thither  ;  but 
they  had  no  sooner  entered  the  dungeon  than  he 
fastened  the  door,  and  with  force  and  violence 
accomplished  his  base  purpose. 

This  occurred  at  nigh.':.  He  then  mounted  his 
horse  and  hastened  back  to  the  castle  of  the  Count 
d'Alencon,  in  time  to  attend  the  rising  in  the 
morning.  He  had  arranged  matters  so  that  he 
was  seen  in  the  hotel  of  the  castle  at  four  o'clock, 
which  circumstance,  in  the  subsequent  trial  of  the 
case,  was  brought  up  as  evidence  in  his  favor. 

The  L,ady  de  Carogne  kept  the  matter  a  secret 
in  her  own  breast  for  a  long  time,  and  until  her 
husband  came  back  from  the  wars  of  the  Holy 
Land.  When  Sir  John  returned  he  was  joyfully 
received  by  his  lad}7  and  household,  who  feasted 
him  well,  but  when  they  retired  at  night,  she 
threw  herself  on  her  knees  and  bitterly  bewailed 
the  insult  she  had  suffered.  Her  husband  at  first 
could  not  believe  what  she  told  him,  but  after  her 
repeated  assurances  and  protestations  of  innocence, 
he  accepted  her  statement,  and  believed  her  im- 
plicitly. 

On  the  following  day  he  sent  for  her  nearest 
relatives,  and  when  they  were  assembled,  he  led 
them  into  an  apartment  and  told  them  his  reasons 
for  summoning  them,  and  requested  his  lady  to 
relate  minutely  everything  that  had  passed  during 
his  absence.  They  were  astonished  at  what  they 
heard,  and  advised  him  to  refer  the  matter  to  the 
Count  d'Alencon.  This  he  did,  but  the  Count, 
who  greatly  loved  L,e  Gris,  refused  to  credit  the  ac- 
cusation made  against  him,  and  appointed  a  day 
for  the  parties  to  come  before  him,  and  desired 
that  the  lady  might  attend  and  give  her  evidence 
against  the  man  whom  she  thus  accused,  he 
Gris  boldly  denied  the  charge,  and  wondered  how 
he  could  have  incurred  the  mortal  hatred  of  the 
lady.  He  proved  by  the  household  of  the  Count 
that  he  had  been  seen  in  the  castle  at  four  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  and  as  the  Count  himself  had  ob- 
served him  in  his  chamber  at  nine  o'clock,  he  de- 
cided that  it  was  quite  impossible  for  any  one  to 
have  ridden  three  and  twenty  leagues  and  back 
again  in  five  hours.  He  commanded  that  hence- 
forward all  should  be  buried  in  oblivion,  and 
under  pain  of  incurring  his  displeasure  nothing 


farther  was  to  be  done  in  the  matter.  Sir  John, 
being  a  man  of  courage,  and  believing  what  his 
wife  had  told  him,  would  not  submit  to  this 
decision,  but  went  to  Paris  and  appealed  to  the 
parliament.  The  latter  summoned  James  he  Gris, 
who  replied,  and  gave  pledges  to  obey  whatever 
judgment  parliament  should  give.  The  cause 
lasted  for  upwards  of  a  year,  and  they  could  not 
in  an}-  way  compromise  it,  for  Sir  John  was  deter- 
mined that  he  woidd  pursue  the  matter  until 
death  rather  than  allow  a  stain  to  remain  upon  his 
wife's  name.  This  caused  the  Count  d'Alencon 
to  conceive  a  great  dislike  for  him,  and  he  would 
have  put  him  to  death  had  he  not  placed  himself 
under  the  safeguard  of  the  parliament.  The  latter 
at  length  decided  that  the  case  should  be  settled 
by  an  appeal  to  arms,  as  a  last  resort,  and  Sir 
Tohn,  the  squire,  and  the  lady  were  instantly  put 
under  arrest  until  the  day  set  for  the  mortal  com- 
bat. 

At  this  time  the  king  was  at  Sluys,  preparing 
for  an  invasion  of  England,  but  on  hearing  of  the 
intended  duel,  he  declared  his  purpose  to  be 
present  on  that  occasion.  Accordingly  he  ari" 
his  principal  officers  set  out  for  Paris  to  witnesi 
the  combat.  On  their  arrival  lists  were  made  up 
for  the  champions,  in  the  place  of  St.  Catharine, 
while  scaffolds  were  erected  on  one  side  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  king  and  his  nobles.  An 
immense  crowd  of  people  gathered  to  witness  the 
exciting  spectacle.  The  two  champions  entered 
the  lists  armed  at  all  points,  and  each  was  seated 
in  a  chair  opposite  the  other ;  the  Count  de 
St.  Pol  directed  Sir  John  de  Carogne,  and  the  re- 
tainers of  the  Count  d'Alencon,  James  Le  Gris. 
On  entering  the  lists,  Sir  John  approached  his 
lady,  who  was  covered  in  black  and  seated  on  a 
chair,  and  saluting  her  said,  "  Lady,  from  your 
accusation,  and  in  your  quarrel,  am  I  thus  ven- 
turing my  life  to  combat  James  Te  Gris ;  you 
know  whether  my  cause  be  loyal  and  true."  To 
this  she  replied,  "My  lord,  it  is  so;  and  you 
may  fight  securely,  for  your  cause  is  good. ' ' 

She  remained  seated,  making  fervent  prayers 
to  God  and  the  Virgin,  entreating  humbly  rhat 
through  her  grace  and  intercession,  she  might 
gain  the  victory  according  to  her  right.  Her  life 
depended  upon  the  result,  for  should  her  husband 
lose  the  victor}-,  he  would  be  hanged  and  she 
herself  burnt  as  a  criminal.  She  regretted  that 
she  had   not  kept  the  matter  a  secret,  and  thus 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


565 


avoided  placing  herself  and  her  husband  in  such 
mortal  peril ;  but  it  was  now  too  late,  and  she 
must  abide  the  event. 

The  two  champions  were  then  advanced  and 
placed  opposite  to  each  other,  making  a  handsome 
appearance,  for  they  were  both  expert  men-at- 
arms.  The  first  course  was  run  without  either 
receiving  any  hurt.  After  the  tilting,  they  dis- 
mounted, and  made  ready  to  continue  the  fight 
on  foot.  Both  behaved  with  great  courage,  but 
at  the  first  onset,  Sir  John  was  wounded  in  the 
thigh,  which  alarmed  all  of  his  friends, 
particularly  his  wife,  who  now  yielded  to 
'despair,  feeling  sure  that  Sir  John  would 
be  overcome  ;  but  he  nerved  himself  to  a 
desperate  effort,  and  throwing  all  his  en- 
ergies into  one  blow,  struck  down  his 
adversary,  and  thrusting  his  sword  through 
his  bod}-,  killed  him  on  the  spot.  He 
then  appealed  to  the  king  and  the  specta- 
tors to  know  if  he  had  not  done  his  duty, 
and  they  greeted  him  with  enthusiasm 
and  applause. 

The  bodj-  of  Le  Gris  was  delivered  to 
the  hangman,  who  dragged  it  to  Mont- 
faucon,  and  there  hanged  it.  Sir  John 
approached  the  king,  and  fell  on  his 
knees  ;  the  king  made  him  rise,  and  or- 
dered one  thousand  francs  to  be  paid  to 
him  that  very  day.  He  also  retained  him 
in  his  household,  with  a  pension  of  two 
hundred  livres  a  year,  which  he  received 
as  long  as  he  lived.  After  thanking  the 
king  and  his  lords,  Sir  John  went  to  his 
lady  and  kissed  her,  after  which  they 
went  together  to  make  their  offering  in 
the  church  of  Notre  Dame,  and  then  re- 


followed.  Hamilton  accepted  the  challenge,  al- 
though he  utterly  condemned  the  practice  of 
duelling,  to  which  he  had  already  been  a  victim 
in  the  loss  of  his  eldest  son,  a  promising  youth  of 
only  twenty,  who  fell  in  a  political  duel  in  1802. 
He  declared  that  it  was  solely  in  his  character  as 
a  public  man  that  he  accepted  Burr's  challenge, 
explaining  his  position  in  the  following  language : 
"The  ability  to  be  in  future  useful,  whether  in 
resisting  mischief  or  effecting  good  in  those  crises 
of  our  public  affairs  which  seem  likely  to  happen, 


turned  to  their  home, 
for  many  years. 


where  they  lived  happily 


THE  BURR-HAMILTON   DUEL. 

IN  1S03  Aaron  Burr  was  a  candidate  for  Gov- 
ernor of  New  York,  but  was  defeated  by  Gen- 
eral Hamilton's  influence,  an  unfriendly  feeling 
having  existed  for  many  years  between  the  two. 
After  his  defeat  Burr  demanded  that  Hamilton 
should  disavow  certain  expressions  derogatory  to 
his  personal  character,  which  he  claimed  the  latter 
had  uttered  during  the  campaign.  Hamilton 
declined  to  comply,  and  a  challenge  from  Burr 


DUEL   BETWEEN   SIR  JOHN   CAROGNE    AND   I.E   GRIS. 

would  probably  be  inseparable  from  a  conformity 
with  prejudice  in  this  particular." 

In  his  personal  appearance  Hamilton  is  de- 
scribed as  being  under  the  middle  size,  thin  in 
person,  and  very  erect,  courtly  and  dignified  in 
his  bearing.  His  figure,  though  slight,  was  well- 
proportioned  and  graceful  ;  his  complexion  deli- 
cate and  fine ;  rosy  cheeks,  and  the  whole  expres- 
sion of  his  countenance  pleasant  and  cheerful ; 
his  voice  musical,  and  his  manner  frank  and  cor- 
dial. He  excelled  equally  as  a  writer  and  a 
speaker. 

Burr  is  described    as   being   in   the  prime  of 


566 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


his  manhood,  small  but  well-formed,  fair  com- 
plexioned,  and  fascinating  in  his  manners.  His 
face  was  strikingly  handsome,  with  jet  black  and 
uncommonly  brilliant  and  piercing  e3res.  In  the 
drawing-room  his  manners  were  singularly  grace- 
ful, gentle  and  winning,  but  in  public  he  assumed 
an  air  of  haughty  superiority.  He  was  a  wit,  a 
beau,  a  good  scholar,  an  unscrupulous  lawyer 
and  politician,  and  a  libertine  in  morals.  He  had 
only  one  legitimate  child,  a  daughter  named 
Theodosia,  who  was  married  to  Governor  Allston, 


On  this  occasion  Hamilton  was  cheerful,  and  at 
times  even  merry.  He  was  urged  by  his  friends 
to  sing  the  only  song  he  ever  sang  or  knew — the 
familiar  old  ballad  of  "  The  Drum."  He  sang  it 
in  his  heartiest  manner,  greatly  to  the  delight  of 
the  old  soldiers  by  whom  he  was  surrounded. 
During  the  evening  Burr  was  reserved  and  silent, 
mingling  but  little  with  the  company,  and  taking 
no  part  in  the  general  conversation.  In  fact,  as  a 
rule,  he  was  more  of  a  listener  than  talker,  so 
that  on  this  occasion  his  silence  was  less  remarked. 


MURDER   OF   HAMILTON. 


of  South  Carolina,  and  was  lost  in  a  storm  at 
sea. 

Burr's  second  was  a  young  lawyer  named  Wm. 
P.  Van  Ness,  one  of  his  most  attached  parti- 
sans, and  fully  as  dark,  designing,  cool,  and  im- 
placable as  his  principal.  Considerable  corre- 
spondence took  place  between  the  parties,  Hamil- 
ton endeavoring  in  every  possible  way,  without 
going  so  far  as  to  involve  his  honor,  to  bring 
about  a  reconciliation,  but  failing  in  his  purpose, 
the  terms  of  the  meeting  were  agreed  upon,  pis- 
tols selected  as  the  weapons,  and  the  distance 
fixed  at  ten  paces. 

During  the  progress  of  these  preliminaries 
Hamilton  and  Burr  met  at  a  banquet  of  the  Society 
of  the  Cincinnati,  of  which  they  were  members. 


He  paid  not  the  slightest  attention  to  Hamilton 
until  he  began  to  sing,  when  he  turned,  and  lean- 
ing on  the  table,  looked  fixedly  at  him  until  the 
song  was  finished. 

When  the  fatal  morning  came,  Burr  arrived  on 
the  ground  first,  as  had  been  previously  arranged. 
He  deliberately  took  off  his  coat,  surveyed  the 
ground,  and  then  cleared  away  the  brush,  limbs 
of  trees,  etc.  When  General  Hamilton  arrived 
the  parties  exchanged  salutations,  and  the  seconds 
proceeded  to  make  their  arrangements.  The  dis- 
tance was  measured  and  lots  cast  for  the  choice  of 
position,  and  also  to  determine  by  whom  the  word 
should  be  given.  In  both  instances  the  advar* 
tage  was  with  Hamilton.  The  pistols  were  the 
loaded,  and  the  parties  took  their  stations.    Hamf 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


567 


ton's  second  now  explained  to  the  principals  the 
rules  which  were  to  govern  them  in  firing,  as  fol- 
lows :  "The  parties  being  placed  at  their  sta- 
tions, the  second  who  gives  the  word  shall  ask 
them  whether  they  are  ready  ;  being  answered  in 
the  affirmative,  he  shall  say  Present ;  after  this, 
the  parties  shall  present  and  fire  when  the}-  please. 
If  one  fires  before  the  other,  the  opposite  second 
shall  say,  one,  two,  three — fire  ;  and  he  shall  then 
fire  or  lose  his  shot."  The  second  then  took  his 
position,  and  asked  if  they  were  read}- ;  being 
answered  in  the  affirmative,  he  gave  the  word 
Present,  when  instantly  Burr's  pistol  was  dis- 
charged. Hamilton  was  seen  to  spring  upon  his 
toes  with  a  convulsive  movement,  and  reel  a  little 
to  one  side,  when  his  pistol  was  discharged  at 
random,  and  he  fell  headlong  on  his  .face,  remain- 
ing motionless  on  the  ground.  The  ball  from  his 
pistol  rustled  among  the  branches  some  distance 
over  the  head  of  his  antagonist.  Burr  heard  it, 
and  coolly  looked  up  and  noticed  where  it  had 
severed  a  twig.  Glancing  then  at  Hamilton  he 
beheld  him  falling,  and  advanced  toward  him  with 
a  manner  and  gesture  that  appeared  to  be  expres- 
sive of  regret,  but  without  speaking,  turned  about 
and  withdrew,  being  urged  from  the  field  by  his 
second.  No  further  conversation  took  place  be- 
tween the  principals,  and  Burr  immediately  re- 
turned to  New  York. 

Hamilton  was  borne  away  in  the  arms  of  Pen- 
dleton, his  second,  and  his  wound  was  attended 
to  by  Dr.  Hosack.  He  had  just  strength  enough 
to  say,  "  This  is  a  mortal  wound,  doctor ;"  when 
he  sank  away,  and  became  unconscious.  On  re- 
covering, his  first  words  were,  "  My  vision  is 
indistinct,"  but  soon  after  recovering  his  sight, 
and  observing  the  case  of  pistols,  wTith  the  one 
that  had  been  used  lying  outside,  he  said,  ' '  Take 
care  of  that  pistol ;  it  is  undischarged  and  still 
cocked  ;  it  may  go  off  and  do  harm — Pendleton 
knows  (attempting  to  turn  his  head  towards  him) 
that  I  did  not  intend  to  fire  at  him."  The  dis- 
charge of  the  pistol  was  in  fact  purely  accidental, 
resulting  from  nervous  agitation  produced  by  the 
wound  and  his  fall.  He  had  offered  himself  an 
unresisting  victim  to  the  vengeance  of  Burr,  and 
the  unhealthy  public  sentiment  of  the  times. 

Hamilton  was  tenderly  placed  in  the  bottom  of 
a  barge,  and  the  party  rowed  rapidly  toward  the 
New  York  side.  On  approaching  the  shore,  he 
requested  that  Mrs.  Hamilton  should  be  imme- 


diately sent  for,  but  that  the  event  should  be  grad- 
ually broken  to  her,  and  in  such  a  way  as  to  lead 
her  to  believe  that  his  wound  was  not  serious. 
His  friend,  Mr.  Bayard,  was  standing  on  the 
wharf  in  great  agitation,  and  on  seeing  Hamilton 
lying  in  the  boat,  threw  up  his  arms  and  burst 
into  tears  and  lamentations.  Hamilton  was  im- 
mediately conveyed  to  his  home,  where  he  was 
put  to  bed,  and  a  consultation  of  physicians  held. 
They  united  in  the  opinion  that  there  was  no 
chance  for  his  recovery  ;  the  ball  had  struck  the 
second  or  third  false  rib  and  fractured  it  about  the 
middle  ;  it  then  passed  through  the  liver  and  the 
diaphragm,  lodging  in  the  first  or  second  lumbar 
vertebra. 

The  news  of  Hamilton's  fall  and  probable 
speedy  death,  sped  rapidly  over  the  entire  coun- 
try. In  New  York  bulletins,  giving  an  account 
of  his  condition,  were  issued  hourly,  and  kept 
the  city  in  the  wildest  agitation.  Mrs.  Hamilton 
was  overwhelmed  with  sorrow,  but  her  husband 
remained  calm  and  uncomplaining,  although  he 
suffered  intense  agony  during  the  remainder  of 
the  day  and  the  following  night.  At  his  request, 
he  was  visited  by  Bishop  Moore  and  Rev.  Dr. 
Mason.  To  the  former  he  said:  "My  dear  sir, 
you  perceive  my  unfortunate  situation,  and  no 
doubt  have  been  made  acquainted  with  the  cir- 
cumstances which  led  to  it.  It  is  my  desire  to 
receive  the  communion  at  your  hands.  I  hope 
you  will  not  conceive  there  is  •  any  impropriety  in 
my  request.  It  has  for  some  time  past  been  the 
wish  of  my  heart,  and  it  was  my  intention  to 
take  an  early  opportunity  of  uniting  myself  to  the 
church  by  the  reception  of  that  holy  ordinance." 
Bishop  Moore  observed  to  him  that  he  must  be 
very  sensible  of  the  delicate  and  trying  situation 
in  which  he  as  a  minister  was  placed  ;  that  how- 
ever desirous  he  might  be  to  afford  consolation  to 
a  fellow  mortal  in  distress,  it  was  his  duty  to  hold 
up  the  law  of  God  as  paramount  to  all  other  cus- 
toms, and  that  he  must  unequivocally  condemn 
the  practice  which  had  brought  him  to  his  present 
unhappy  condition.  Hamilton  acknowledged  the 
propriety  of  these  sentiments,  and  added,  "I 
have  no  ill-will  against  Colonel  Burr.  I  met  him 
with  a  fixed  determination  to  do  him  no  harm. 
I  forgive  all  that  happened. ' '  After  some  further 
conversation  he  received  the  sacrament  with  great 
devotion. 

On  the  following  day  at  n  o'clock  he  embraced 


56S 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


his  wife  for  the  last  time,  and  then  calmly  com- 
posing himself  to  die,  expired  without  a  shudder 
or  a  groan,  in  the  prime  of  his  manhood,  being 
then  forty-seven  years  of  age.  A  week  before  the 
time  fixed  for  the  duel  Hamilton  prepared  a  letter 
to  his  wife,  to  be  handed  to  her  in  case  of  his 
death.  In  this  epistle  he  assured  her  that  he  had 
striven,  by  all  honorable  means,  to  avoid  the  meet- 
ing, but  that  he  expected  to  fall  in  it.  He  entreated 
her  forgiveness  for  the  calamity  his  death  would 
bring  upon  her  and  her  children,  and  implored 
her  to  meet  the  blow  in  calm  submission  to 
Providence. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  was  a  woman  of  rare  excel- 
lence and  dignity  of  character.  She  survived  him 
fifty  years,  dying  in  1S54  at  the  advanced  age  of 
97.  It  is  related  that  after  the  death  of  her  hus- 
band she  met  his  murderer  only  on  one  occasion, 
the  incident  being  described  as  follows  :  In  the 
year  1822,  she  was  travelling  from  New  York  to 
Albany,  on  one  of  the  boats  plying  the  Hudson. 
At  the  dinner  hour  when  Mrs.  Hamilton  was  ap- 
proaching the  dining-saloon,  and  had  almost 
reached  her  place  at  the  table,  she  raised  her 
eyes  and  perceived  Aaron  Burr  standing  directly 
opposite  to  her,  with  only  a  few  feet  intervening 
between  them.  The  shock  of  the  unexpected 
meeting  was  so  great  that  she  uttered  a  loud 
scream,  fell  fainting  to  the  floor,  and  was  carried 
from  the  apartment.  As  soon  as  she  recovered  she 
insisted  upon  being  set  on  shore  at  the  first  landing 
place,  refusing  to  journey  further  in  the  same 
vessel  with  Burr.  It  is  said  that  after  her  re- 
moval from  the  dining-saloon,  he  deliberate^'  sat 
down  and  ate  a  hearty  meal  with  the  utmost  com- 
posure. 

Public  indignation  against  Burr  after  the  duel 
knew  no  bounds.  The  fact  that  he  had  expressed 
a  determination  to  force  the  fight,  being  sure  of 
his  ability  to  kill  his  antagonist,  caused  him  to  be 
branded  as  a  wilful  murderer,  and  an  indictment 
was  found  against  him  ;  but  he  escaped  by  flight 
and  concealment.  The  day  following  General 
Hamilton's  death,  Burr  addressed  a  letter  to  Gov- 
ernor Allston,  his  son-in-law,  in  which  he  used  the 
following  heartless  words  :  ' '  General  Hamilton 
died  yesterday.  The  malignant  federalists  or 
tories.  and  the  embittered  Clintonians,  unite  in 
endeavoring  to  excite  public  sympathy  in  his 
favor  and  indignation  against  his  antagonist. 
Thousands  of   absurd  falsehoods    are   circulated 


with  industry.  The  most  illiberal  means  are 
practised  in  order  to  produce  excitement,  and  for 
the  moment  with  effect." 

Evil  almost  invariably  meets  with  its  just  pun- 
ishment. Retribution  may  be  slow,  but  it  is 
terribly  sure.  In  the  liistor)-  of  our  country  the 
name  of  Aaron  Burr  stands  even  below  that  of 
Benedict  Arnold,  for  he  was  a  murderer  as  well  as 
a  traitor,  and  infamy  will  be  his  portion  so  long 
as  the  world  may  last. 


THE  DUEL  BETWEEN  COMMODORES  DECA- 
TUR AND  BARRON. 

nEXT  to  the  unfortunate  Hamilton-Burr  affair, 
perhaps  the  most  celebrated  American  duel 
was  the  one  fought  by  Commodores  Stephen 
Decatur  and  James  Barron,  near  Bladeusburg, 
Maryland,  March  22,  1820,  resulting  in  the  death 
of  the  former  and  the  severe  wounding  of  the 
latter. 

The  quarrel  was  an  old  one,  dating  back  to 
1807  and  growing  out  of  what  is  known  in  our 
naval  history  as  the  ' '  affair  of  the  Chesapeake. ' ' 
On  the  22nd  of  June,  1807,  the  United  States 
Frigate  "  Chesapeake,"  carrying  thirty-eight 
guns,  and  under  the  command  of  Commodore 
Barron,  got  under  way  from  Hampton  Roads, 
bound  to  the  Mediterranean,  and  was  almost  im- 
mediately boarded  by  a  boat  from  the  British  ship 
"Eeopard,"  of  fifty  guns.  The  officer  in  command 
of  the  boat's  crew  presented  an  order  from  the 
Captain  of  his  ship  to  search  the  American  vessel 
for  some  men  who  were  claimed  as  British  de- 
serters. Commodore  Barron  indignantly  and 
peremptorily  refused  to  submit  to  such  an  outrage, 
and  immediatel}-  afterward  the  "Leopard"  fired 
a  broadside  into  his  ship.  The  Chesapeake  was 
not  prepared  to  return  it ;  for,  besides  her  inferior 
force  and  poor  armament,  she  was  in  great  con- 
fusion consequent  upon  her  leaving  port.  The 
guns  were  loaded,  but  there  were  no  rammers, 
wads,  matches,  gun-locks,  or  powder-horns  at 
hand.  Only  one  shot  was  fired  from  the  ' '  Ches- 
apeake "  during  the  action,  and  it  was  discharged 
by  means  of  a  coal  brought  from  below.  The 
"  Eeopard  "  continued  firing  rapidly,  until  Barron, 
finding  that  he  could  make  no  resistance,  ordered 
his  colors  struck.  The  ' '  Chesapeake  ' '  received 
twenty-one  shots  in  the  hull,  and  had  three  men 
killed  and  eighteen  wounded,  among  the  latter 
being  Commodore  Barron  himself. 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE  WORLD'S  HISTORY. 


509 


This  unpardonable  outrage  created  intense  ex- 
citement throughout  the  United  States,  and  the 
martial  ardor  of  the  people  was  aroused  to  the 
highest  pitch.  War  seemed  inevitable,  but 
through  diplomacy  it  was  postponed  until  1S12. 

Commodore  Barron  was  tried  by  court-martial, 
and  found  guilty  of  "neglecting,  on  the  proba- 
bility of  an  engagement,  to  clear  his  ship  for  ac- 
tion, ' '  and  was  sentenced  to  be  suspended  for  five 
years  without  pay  or  emoluments.  Decatur  was 
a  member  of  the  court-martial,  and  this  was  the 
origin  of  the  enmity  between  the  two,  although 
the  court  closed  its  findings  on  the  subject  of 
the  personal  conduct  of  the  accused  in  the  fol- 
lowing terms  :  ' '  No  transposition  of  the  specifi- 
cation or  any  other  modification  of  the  charges 
themselves,  would  alter  the  opinion  of  the  court 
as  to  the  firmness  and  courage  of  the  accused ; 
the  evidence  on  this  point  is  clear  and  satisfac- 
tory." 

Barron  entered  the  merchant  service  during  his 
suspension,  and  remained  abroad  until  18 18,  when 
an  attempt  was  made  to  restore  him  to  duty, 
which  Decatur  opposed.  After  a  long  and  bit- 
ter correspondence,  Barron  challenged  Decatur, 
the  challenge  was  accepted,  and  the  encounter 
fixed  for  March,  1820,  at  a  place  near  Bladens- 
burg.  Both  of  the  principals  fell  at  the  first  fire, 
Decatur  mortally  wounded,  and  Barron  so  severely 
that  he  was  confined  to  his  bed,  in  great  suffering, 
for  several  months.  Decatur  died  during  the  fol- 
lowing night,  in  the  forty-second  year  of  his 
age.  

THE  CELEBRATED    CLAY-RANDOLPH    DUEL. 

THIS  duel  arose  from  a  remark  made  by  Mr. 
Randolph  during  the  course  of  a  speech 
in  Congress  on  the  appointment  of  Mr.  Clay  as 
Secretary  of  State  by  President  Adams.  Ran- 
dolph characterized  it  as  "  the  coalition  of  Bilfil 
and  Black  George — the  combination,  unheard  of 
until  then,  of  the  Puritan  with  the  blackleg." 
This  was  pretty  rough  language  coming  from  a 
man  of  such  prominence  as  Mr.  Randolph  ;  in 
fact  it  sounds  more  like  Billingsgate  than  the  ut- 
terance of  a  scholar  and  statesman ;  and  Mr. 
Clay  could  not  afford  to  let  it  go  unnoticed.  The 
challenge  followed  at  once.  We  quote  the  history 
of  the  duel  as  recorded  by  General  James  Hamil- 
ton, of  South  Carolina,  who  was  present : 

"The   night   before   the  duel,"   says   General 


Hamilton,  "  Mr.  Randolph  sent  for  me.  I  found 
him  calm,  but  in  a  singularly  kind  and  confiding 
mood.  He  told  me  that  he  had  something  on  his 
mind  to  tell  me.  He  then  remarked,  '  Hamilton, 
I  have  determined  to  receive,  without  returning, 
Clay's  fire ;  nothing  shall  induce  me  to  harm  a 
hair  of  his  head  ;  I  will  not  make  his  wife  a 
widow,  or  his  children  orphans.  Their  tears 
would  be  shed  over  his  grave ;  but  when  the  sod 
of  Virginia  rests  on  my  bosom,  there  is  not  in 
this  wide  world  one  individual  to  pay  this  tribute 
upon  mine.'  His  eyes  filled,  and  resting  his  head 
upon  his  hand,  we  remained  some  minutes  silent. 
I  replied,  '  My  dear  friend  (for  ours  was  a  sort 
of  posthumous  friendship,  bequeathed  by  our 
mothers),  I  deeply  regret  that  you  have  men- 
tioned this  subject  to  me  ;  for  you  call  upon  me 
to  go  to  the  field  and  to  see  you  shot  down,  or  to 
assume  the  responsibility,  in  regard  to  your  own 
life,  in  sustaining  your  determination  to  throw 
it  away.  But  on  this  subject,  a  man's  own  con- 
science and  his  own  bosom  are  his  best  monitors. 
I  will  not  advise,  but  under  the  enormous  and  un- 
provoked personal  insult  you  have  offered  Mr. 
Clay,  I  cannot  dissuade.  I  feel  bound,  however,  to 
communicate  to  Colonel  Tatnall*  your  decision.' 
He  begged  me  not  to  do  so,  and  said,  '  he  was 
very  much  afraid  that  Tatuall  would  take  the 
studs  and  refuse  to  go  out  with  him.'  I,  how- 
ever, sought  Colonel  Tatnall,  and  we  repaired 
about  midnight  to  Mr.  Randolph's  lodgings, 
whom  we  found  reading  Milton's  great  poem. 
For  some  moments  he  did  not  permit  us  to  say  one 
word  in  relation  to  the  approaching  duel ;  and  he 
at  once  commenced  one  of  those  delightful  criti- 
cisms on  a  passage  of  this  poet,  in  which  he  was 
wont  so  enthusiastically  to  indulge.  After  3 
pause,  Colonel  Tatnall  remarked,  '  Mr.  Randolph, 
I  am  told  you  have  determined  not  to  return  Mr. 
Clay's  fire ;  I  must  say  to  you,  my  dear  sir,  if  I  am 
only  to  go  out  to  see  you  shot  down,  you  must 
find  some  other  friend. '  Mr.  Randolph  remarked 
that  it  was  his  determination.  After  much  con- 
versation on  the  subject,  1  induced  Colonel  Tat- 
nall to  allow  Mr.  Randolph  to  take  his  own 
course,  as  his  withdrawal,  as  one  of  his  friends, 
might  lead  to  very  injurious  misconstructions. 
At  last,  Mr.  Randolph,  smiling,  said,  'Well, 
Tatuall,  I  promise  you  one  thing,  if  I  see  the 
devil  in  Clay's  eye,  and  that  with  malice  pre- 
*  Randolph's  second. 


570 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


perse  lie  means  to  take  my  life,  I  may  change  my 
mind.'  A  remark  I  knew  he  made  merely  to 
propitiate  the  anxieties  of  his  friend. 

"  Mr.  Clay  and  himself  met  at  4  o'clock  the 
succeeding  evening,  on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac. 
But  he  saw  'no  devil  in  Clay's  eye,'  but  a  man 
fearless,  and  expressing  the  mingled  sensibility 
and  firmness  which  belonged  to  the  occasion. 

' '  I  shall  never  forget  this  scene,  as  long  as  I 
live.  It  has  been  my  misfortune  to  witness  sev- 
eral duels,  but  I  never  saw  one,  at  least  in  its  se- 
quel, so  deeply  affecting.  The  sun  was  just  set- 
ting behind  the  blue  hills  of  Randolph's  own 
Virginia.  Here  were  two  of  the  most  extraor- 
dinary men  our  country  in  its  prodigality  had  pro- 
duced, about  to  meet  in  mortal  combat.  Whilst 
Tatnall  was  loading  Randolph's  pistols  I  ap- 
proached my  friend,  I  believed,  for  the  last  time; 
I  took  his  hand ;  there  was  not  in  its  touch  the 
quivering  of  one  pulsation.  He  turned  to  me 
and  said,  'Clay  is  calm,  but  not  vindictive — I 
hold  my  purpose,  Hamilton,  in  airy  event ;  re- 
member this.'  On  handing  him  his  pistol,  Col- 
onel Tatnall  sprung  the  hair-trigger.  Mr.  Ran- 
dolph said,  '  Tatnall,  although  I  am  one  of  the 
best  shots  in  Virginia,  with  either  a  pistol  or  gun, 
yet  I  never  fire  with  the  hair-trigger  ;  besides,  I 
have  a  thick  buckskin  glove  on,  which  will  de- 
stroy the  delicacy  of  my  touch,  and  the  trigger 
may  fly  before T  know  where  I  am.'  But,  from 
his  great  solicitude  for  his  friend,  Tatnall  insisted 
upon  hairing  the  trigger.  On  taking  their  posi- 
tion, the  fact  turned  out  as  Mr.  Randolph  antici- 
pated ;  his  pistol  went  off  before  the  word,  with 
the  muzzle  down. 

"The  moment  this  event  took  place,  General 
Jesup,  Mr.  Clay's  friend,  called  out  that  he  would 
instantly  leave  the  ground  with  his  friend,  if  that 
occurred  again.  Mr.  Clay  at  once  exclaimed,  '  it 
was  entirely  an  accident,'  and  begged  that  the  gen- 
tleman might  be  allowed  to  go  on.  On  the  word 
being  given,  Mr.  Clay  fired  without  effect,  Mr. 
Randolph  discharging  his  pistol  in  the  air.  The 
moment  Mr.  Clay  saw  that  Mr.  Randolph  had 
thrown  away  his  fire,  with  a  gush  of  sensibility, 
he  instantly  approached  Mr.  Randolph,  and  said 
with  an  emotion  I  never  can  forget : — '  I  trust  in 
God,  my  dear  sir,  you  are  untouched  ;  after  what 
has  occurred,  I  would  not  have  harmed  you  for  a 
thousand  worlds.' 

Col.  Thomas  H.  Benton  was  also  present  at  this 


duel,  and  wrote  a  fuller  account  of  it  than  that 
given  by  General  Hamilton.  As  he  mentions 
several  interesting  particulars  not  referred  to  by 
General  Hamilton,  we  will  give  a  portion  of  Col. 
Benton's  statement : 

' '  I  have  said  that  the  count  was  to  be  quick 
after  giving  the  word  'fire,'  and  for  a  reason 
which  could  not  be  told  to  the  principals.  To 
Mr.  Randolph,  who  did  not  mean  to  fire,  and 
who,  though  agreeing  to  be  shot  at,  had  no  de- 
sire to  be  hit,  this  rapidity  of  counting  out  the 
time  and  quick  arrival  at  the  command  '  stop ' 
presented  no  objection.  With  Mr.  Clay  it  was 
different.  With  him  it  was  all  a  real  transaction, 
and  gave  rise  to  some  proposal  for  more  deliberate- 
ness  in  counting  off  the  time  ;  which  being  com- 
municated to  Col.  Tatnall,  and  by  him  to  Mr. 
Randolph,  had  an  ill  effect  upon  his  feelings,  and, 
aided  by  an  untoward  accident  on  the  ground, 
unsettled  for  a  moment  the  noble  determination 
which  he  had  formed  not  to  fire  at  Mr.  Clay.  I 
now  give  the  words  of  Gen.  Jesup  : 

' ' '  When  I  repeated  to  Mr.  Clay  the  ' '  word ' '  in 
the  manner  in  which  it  would  be  given,  he  ex- 
pressed some  apprehension  that,  as  he  was  not 
accustomed  to  the  use  of  the  pistol,  he  might  not 
be  able  to  fire  within  the  time,  and  for  that  reason 
alone  desired  that  it  might  be  prolonged.  I  men- 
tioned to  Col.  Tatnall  the  desire  of  Mr.  Clay.  He 
replied,  "  If  you  insist  upon  it,  the  time  must  be 
prolonged,  but  I  should  very  much  regret  it."  I 
informed  him  I  did  not  insist  upon  prolonging  the 
time,  and  I  was  sure  Mr.  Clay  would  acquiesce. 
The  original  agreement  was  carried  out.' 

"  I  knew  nothing  of  this  until  it  was  too  late  to 
speak  with  the  seconds  or  principals.  I  had 
crossed  the  L,ittle  Falls  bridge  just  after  them, 
and  come  to  the  place  where  the  servants  and 
carriages  had  stopped.  I  saw  none  of  the  gentle- 
men, and  supposed  they  had  all  gone  to  the  spot 
where  the  ground  was  being  marked  off;  but  on 
speaking  to  Johnny,*  Mr.  Randolph,  who  was  still 
in  his  carriage  and  heard  my  voice,  looked  out 
from  the  window,  and  said  to  me  :  '  Colonel, 
since  I  saw  you,  and  since  I  have  been  in  this 
carriage,  I  have  heard  something  which  may 
make  me  change  my  determination.  Col.  Hamil- 
ton will  give  you  a  note  which  will  explain  it. ' 
Col.  Hamilton  was  then  in  the  carriage,  and  gave 
me  the  note,  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  of 
*  Randolph's  sen-ant. 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


571 


which  Mr.  Randolph  spoke.  I  readily  compre- 
hended that  this  possible  change  of  determina- 
tion related  to  his  firing  ;  but  the  emphasis  with 
which  he  pronounced  the  word  '  may '  clearly 
showed  that  his  mind  was  undecided,  and  left  it 
doubtful  whether  he  would  fire  or  not.  No  fur- 
ther conversation  took  place  between  us ;  the 
preparations  for  the  duel  were  finished  ;  the  par- 
ties went  to  their  places ;  and  I  went  forward  to 
a  piece  of  rising  ground  from  which  I  could  see 
what  passed  and  hear  what  was  said.  The  faith- 
ful Johnny  followed  me  close,  speaking  not  a  word, 
but  evincing  the  deepest  anxiety  for  his  beloved 
master.  The  place  was  a  thick  forest,  and  the 
immediate  spot  a  little  depression  or  basin,  in 
which  the  parties  stood.  The  principals  saluted 
each  other  courteously  as  they  took  their  stands. 
Col.  Tatnall  had  won  the  choice  of  position, 
which  gave  to  Gen.  Jesup  the  delivery  of  the 
word.  They  stood  on  a  line  east  and  west — a 
small  stump  just  behind  Mr.  Randolph.  The 
latter  asked  Gen.  Jesup  to  repeat  the  word  as  he 
would  give  it ;  and  while  in  the  act  of  doing  so, 
and  Mr.  Randolph,  adjusting  the  butt  of  his  pistol 
to  his  hand,  the  muzzle  pointing  downwards,  and 
almost  to  the  ground,  it  fired.  Instantly  Mr. 
Randolph  turned  to  Col.  Tatnall  and  said  :  '  I 
protest  against  the  hair  trigger.'  Col.  'Tatnall 
took  the  blame  to  himself  for  having  sprung  the 
hair.  Mr.  Clay  had  not  then  received  his  pistol. 
Senator  Johnson,  of  Louisiana  (Josiah),  one  of 
his  seconds,  was  carrying  it  to  him,  and  still  sev- 
eral steps  from  him.  This  untimely  fire,  though 
clearly  an  accident,  necessarily  gave  rise  to  some 
remarks,  and  a  species  of  inquiry,  which  was  con- 
ducted with  the  utmost  delicacy,  but  which,  in 
itself,  was  of  a  nature  to  be  inexpressibly  painful 
to  a  gentleman's  feelings.  Mr.  Clay  stopped  it 
with  a  generous  remark  that  the  fire  was  clearly 
an  accident ;  and  it  was  so  unanimously  declared. 
Another  pistol  was  immediately  furnished  ;  an 
exchange  of  shots  took  place,  and,  happily,  with- 
out effect  upon  the  persons.  Mr.  Randolph's 
bullet  struck  the  stump  behind  Mr.  Clay,  and  Mr. 
Clay's  knocked  up  the  earth  and  gravel  behind 
Mr.  Randolph,  and  in  a  line  with  the  level  of  his 
hips,  both  bullets  having  gone  so  true  and  close 
that  it  was  a  marvel  how  they  missed.  The  mo- 
ment had  come  for  me  to  interpose.  I  went 
among  the  parties  and  offered  my  mediation  ;  but 
nothing  could  be  done.     Mr.  Clay  said,  with  that 


wave  of  the  hand  with  which  he  was  accustomed 
to  put  away  a  trifle,  '  This  is  child's  play,'  and 
required  another  fire.  Mr.  Randolph  also  de- 
manded another  fire.  The  seconds  were  directed 
to  reload.  While  this  was  doing  I  prevailed  on 
Mr.  Randolph  to  walk  away  from  his  post,  and 
renewed  to  him,  more  pressingly  than  ever,  my 
importunities  to  yield  to  some  accommodation  ; 
but  I  found  him  more  determined  than  I  had  ever 
seen  him,  and  for  the  first  time  impatient,  and 
seemingly  annoyed  and  dissatisfied  at  what  I  was. 
doing.  He  was  indeed  annoyed  and  dissatisfied. 
The  accidental  fire  of  his  pistol  preyed  upon  his 
feelings.  He  was  doubly  chagrined  at  it,  both  as 
a  circumstance  susceptible  in  itself  of  an  unfair 
interpretation,  and  as  having  been  the  immediate 
and  controlling  cause  of  his  firing  at  Mr.  Clay. 
He  regretted  this  fire  the  instant  it  was  over.  He 
felt  that  it  had  subjected  him  to  imputations  from 
which  he  knew  himself  to  be  free — a  desire  to  kill 
Mr.  Clay,  and  a  contempt  for  the  laws  of  his  be- 
loved State  ;  and  the  annoyances  which  he  felt  at 
these  vexatious  circumstances  revived  his  original 
determination,  and  decided  him  irrevocably  to 
carry  it  out. 

' '  It  was  in  this  interval  that  he  told  me  what 
he  had  heard  since  we  parted,  and  to  which  he 
alluded  when  he  spoke  to  me  from  the  window  of 
the  carriage.  It  was  to  this  effect :  That  he  had 
been  informed  by  Col.  Tatnall  that  it  was  pro- 
posed to  give  out  the  words  with  more  deliberate- 
ness,  so  as  to  prolong  the  time  for  taking  aim. 
This  information  grated  harshly  upon  his  feelings. 
It  unsettled  his  purpose,  and  brought  his  mind  to 
the  inquiry  (as  he  now  told  me,  and  as  I  found  it 
expressed  in  the  note  which  he  had  immediately 
written  in  pencil  to  apprise  me  of  his  possible 
change),  whether,  under  these  circumstances,  he 
might  not  '  disable'  his  adversary  ?  This  note  is 
so  characteristic,  and  such  an  essential  part  of 
this  affair,  that  I  here  give  its  words,  so  far  as  re- 
lates to  this  point.     It  ran  thus  : 

"  'Information  received  from  Col.  Tatnall  since 
I  got  into  the  carriage  may  induce  me  to  change 
my  mind,  of  not  returning  Mr.  Clay's  fire.  I 
seek  not  his  death.  I  would  not  have  his  blood 
upon  my  hands — it  will  not  be  upon  my  soul  if 
shed  in  self-defence — for  the  world.  He  has  de- 
termined, by  the  use  of  a  long,  preparatory  cau- 
tion by  words,  to  get  time  to  kill  me.  May  I  not, 
then,  disable  him  ?     Yes,  if  I  please.' 


572 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


' '  It  has  been  seen,  by  the  statement  of  Gen. 
Jesup,  already  given,  that  this  '  information ' 
was  a  misapprehension ;  that  Mr.  Clay  had  not 
applied  for  a  prolongation  of  time  for  the  purpose 
of  getting  sure  aim,  but  only  to  enable  his  unused 
hand,  long  unfamiliar  with  the  pistol,  to  fire 
within  the  limited  time  ;  that  there  was  no  pro- 
longation, in  fact,  either  granted  or  insisted  upon ; 
but  he  was  in  doubt,  and  Gen.  Jesup  having 
won    the  word,    he   was    having  him    repeat    it 


knees — not  higher  than  the  knee-band;  'for  it 
was  no  mercy  to  shoot  a  man  in  the  knee  ; '  and 
his  only  object  was  to  disable  him  and  spoil  his 
aim.  And  then  he  added,  with  a  beauty  of  expres- 
sion and  a  depth  of  feeling  which  no  studied  ora- 
tor}- can  ever  attain,  and  I  never  shall  forget,  these 
impressive  words  :  '  /  would  not  have  see?i  him 
fall  mortally  woimded,  or  eveti  doubtfidly  wounded, 
for  all  the  land  that  is  watered  by  the  King  of 
Floods  and  all  its  tributary  streams.       He    left  me 


DUEL   BETWEEN    RANDOLPH    AND    CLAY. 


in  the  way  he  was  to  give  it  out,  when  his  finger 
touched  the  hair-trigger.  How  unfortunate  that 
I  did  not  know  of  this  in  time  to  speak  to  Gen. 
Jesup,  when  one  word  from  him  would  have  set 
all  right,  and  saved  the  imminent  risks  incurred ! 
This  inquiry,  '  May  I  not  disable  him? 'was  still 
on  Mr.  Randolph's  mind,  and  dependent  for  its 
solution  on  the  rising  incidents  of  the  moment, 
when  the  accidental  fire  of  his  pistol  gave  the  turn 
to  his  feelings  which  solved  the  doubt.  But  he 
declared  to  me  that  he  had  not  aimed  at  the  life 
of  Mr.  Clav  ;  that  he  did  not  level  as  hiarh  as  the 


to  resume  his  post,  utterly  refusing  to  explain  out 
of  the  Senate  any  thing  that  he  had  said  in  it, 
and  with  the  positive  declaration  that  he  would 
not  return  the  next  fire.  I  withdrew  a  little  way 
into  the  woods,  and  kept  my  eyes  fixed  on  Mr. 
Randolph,  whom  then  I  knew  to  be  the  only  one  in 
danger.  I  saw  him  receive  the  fire  of  Mr.  Clay, 
saw  the  gravel  knocked  up  in  the  same  place,  saw 
Mr.  Randolph  raise  his  pistol — discharge  it  in  the 
air  ;  heard  him  say,  '  I  do  not  fire  at  you,  Mr.  Clay' 
and  immediately  advancing  and  offering  his  hand. 
He  was  met  in  the  same  spirit.     The)'  met  half 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


573 


way,  shook  hands,  Mr.  Randolph  saying,  jocosely, 
'  You  owe  me  a  coat,  Mr.  Clay' — the  bullet  had 
passed  through  the  skirt  of  the  coat,  very  near 
the  pocket — to  which  Mr.  Clay  promptly  and  hap- 
pily replied,  '  I  am  glad  the  debt  is  no  greater,'1  " 


DUEL  BETWEEN  GENERAL  JACKSON  AND 
CHARLES  DICKINSON. 

THIS  fatal  and  historic  duel  took  place  on  the 
banks  of  Red  River,  in  Logan  County, 
Ky.,  earl}'  in  the  morning  of  May  30,  1806. 
Charles  Dickinson  was  a  prominent  and  influential 
citizen  of  Nashville,  Term.,  but  opposed  to  Gen. 
Jackson  in  politics  ;  and  according  to  the  deplor- 
able customs  of  the  times,  the  bitterness  and 
rancor  of  political  antagonism  were  carried  into 
the  personal  relations  of  the  parties.  Early  in  the 
year  Dickinson  made  some  disparaging  remarks 
about  Mrs.  Jackson,  which  "  Old  Hickory  "  imme- 
diately resented  in  his  usual  determined  and  vigor- 
ous manner.  Dickinson  offered  a  satisfaetory 
apology  and  explanation,  which  was  accepted ; 
but  subsequently  he  repeated  the  offensive  re- 
marks, whereupon  Jackson  remonstrated  with  his 
father-in-law,  Mr.  Irvin,  saying,  '  I  wish  no  quar- 
rel with  Dickinson  ;  he  is  used  as  a  tool  by  my 
enemies  in  Nashville,  who  are  urging  him  to  pick 
a  quarrel  with  me.  Advise  him  to  stop  in  time.'' 
This  warning,  from  so  determined  and  fearless  a 
man,  should  have  been  heeded,  but  it  was  not. 
Dickinson  continued  to  find  opportunities  to 
make  offensive  remarks  about  Jackson  and  his 
personal  affairs  ;  and  finally,  on  the  10th  of  Jan- 
uary, just  before  starting  for  New  Orleans  in  a 
flat-boat,  he  wrote  to  Jackson,  charging  him  with 
equivocations,  falsehood,  and  cowardice.  He  did 
not  return  from  this  trip  until  the  20th  of  May, 
when  he  immediately  resumed  the  quarrel,  and 
wrote  a  severe  attack  on  Jackson,  which  was  pub- 
lished in  a  Nashville  paper  the  following  day. 
Jackson  immediately  challenged  him,  and  the 
meeting  was  fixed  for  the  30th  of  the  month. 
The  place  decided  upon  is  a  long  day's  journey 
from  Nashville,  and  the  duellists  and  their  friends 
had  to  leave  their  homes  earl}-  in  the  morning  of 
the  29th.  Jackson  was  accompanied  only  by  his 
second,  General  Overton,  but  Dickinson,  being  a 
leader  of  society  in  Nashville,  and  standing  high 
in  the  estimation  of  man}-  of  the  principal  citizens, 
was  accompanied  by  a  number  of  his  associates. 
He  was  a  quick  and  practised  shot,  and  fully  ex- 


pected to  kill  Jackson  before  the  latter  could  fire, 
so  that  on  his  side  the  duel  was  little  better  than 
premeditated  murder.  The  distance  was  eight 
paces,  and  Jackson's  second  won  the  right  to  give 
the  word,  which,  however,  afforded  but  little  ad- 
vantage to  his  principal,  who  was  not  familiar 
with  the  use  of  pistols.  The  moment  the  word 
was  uttered  Dickinson  fired,  and  the  ball  hit 
Jackson  in  the  breast,  but  there  was  not  the  quiver 
of  a  muscle  or  a  movement  of  the  body  to  indicate 
that  he  had  been  struck.  He  was  determined 
that  his  antagonist  should  not  have  the  satisfac- 
tion of  knowing  that  his  shot  had  taken  effect,  and 
his  iron  will  did  not  falter  in  this  supreme  mo- 
ment. Even  Dickinson  supposed  he  had  missed 
his  mark,  and  exclaimed  excitedly,  "  Good  God  ! 
have  I  missed  him  t"  General  Overton  knew  that 
his  principal  was  hurt,  for  he  saw  the  dust  fly  from 
the  breast  of  Jackson's  coat,  and  he  watched  him 
breathlessly,  expecting  a  tragic  result.  Slowly 
and  deliberately,  like  an  avenging  Nemesis,  Jack- 
son raised  his  pistol  and  fired,  and  Dickinson  fell 
at  full  length  upon  the  ground,  mortally  wounded. 
He  died  that  night  without  knowing  that  his  ball 
had  hit  Jackson,  for  the  latter  declared  "that  as 
Dickinson  considered  himself  the  best  shot  in  the 
world,  and  was  certain  of  killing  him  at  the  first 
fire,  he  did  not  want  him  to  have  the  satisfaction 
of  knowing  that  he  had  touched  him."  His 
wound,  however,  proved  more  severe  and  trouble- 
some than  was  at  first  anticipated.  The  ball 
raked  the  breast-bone  and  broke  a  rib,  and  it  was 
nearly  a  month  before  he  could  move  about  with- 
out inconvenience  and  great  pain.  The  wound 
healed  falsely,  and  he  suffered  from  its  effects  dur- 
ing the  remainder  of  his  life. 

Senator  Benton,  who  was  intimately  acquainted 
with  Jackson,  spoke  of  his  remarkable  courtesy 
and  chivalrous  conduct  toward  women,  in  the  fol- 
lowing language  :  ' '  There  was  an  innate,  unvary- 
ing, self-acting  delicacy  in  his  intercourse  with  the 
female  sex,  including  all  womankind.  His  whole 
life  was  continent.  If  he  had  been  born  in  the 
time  of  Cromwell,  he  would  have  been  a  Puritan. 
Nothing  could  exceed  his  kindness  and  affection 
for  Mrs.  Jackson,  always  increasing  in  proportion 
as  his  elevation  and  culminating  fortunes  drew 
cruel  attacks  upon  her."  It  was  this  chivalrous 
disposition  which  caused  him  to  so  quickly  and 
fiercely  resent  the  least  aspersion  against  the  char- 
acter or  reputation  of  his  wife. 


574 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


DECATUR'S    COMBAT    WITH    THE    ALGERINE 
CHIEF. 

TN  iSoi  war  was  threatened  between  the  United 
JL  States  and  Tripoli,  on  account  of  the  piratical 
course  pursued  by  the  armed  cruisers  of  that  in- 
significant power.  Commodore  Dale,  with  a  squad- 
ron of  two  ships  and  a  sloop-of-war,  was  sent  out 
with  instructions  from  President  Jefferson  to  block- 
ade the  port  of  Tripoli.  Two  years  later  it  be- 
came necessary  to  increase  this  Mediterranean 
force,  and  a  squadron  of  seven  sail  was  ordered 
out,  under  command  of  Commodore  Preble.  In 
October,  1803,  the  44-gun  frigate  Philadelphia, 
while  in  pursuit  of  a  small  piratical  vessel, 
grounded  in  the  harbor  of  Tripoli,  and  becoming 
unmanageable,  her  commander,  Captain  Bain- 
bridge,  was  forced  to  surrender  his  ship  and  crew 
at  discretion.  The  Tripolitan  authorities  treated 
the  officers  as  prisoners  of  war,  but  the  men  were 
sold  as  slaves. 

In  this  emergency,  Stephen  Decatur,  then  a 
lieutenant  under  Commodore  Preble,  proposed  a 
daring  plan  for  recapturing  or  destroying  the 
Philadelphia,  and  the  Commodore,  admiring 
the  courage  of  his  subaltern,  and  having  great 
faith  in  his  discretion  and  good  sense,  readily 
acquiesced  in  the  suggestion.  The  Intrepid,  a 
small  vessel  of  only  four  guns  and  seventy -five 
men,  which  had  recently  been  captured  from  the 
Tripolitaus,  was  placed  at  Decatur's  disposal,  and 
under  the  escort  of  the  Syren,  one  of  the  ves- 
sels of  the  squadron,  proceeded  at  once  from  the 
bay  of  Syracuse,  where  the  ships  were  then  lying, 
to  Tripoli.  The  Philadelphia  was  anchored 
within  half-gun  shot  of  the  castle,  and  guarded 
by  several  Algerine  cruisers  and  gun-boats.  Re- 
storing his  little  vessel  to  her  former  national  ap- 
pearance, and  waiting  until  the  shades  of  evening 
had  settled  down  upon  the  bay,  Decatur  cautiously 
made  his  way  into  the  harbor,  and  between  ten 
and  eleven  o'clock  drifted  alongside  of  the  Phila- 
delphia. The  moment  the  vessels  came  in  con- 
tact, Decatur  and  his  men,  with  their  cutlasses 
in  hand,  leaped  on  board,  and  in  a  few  moments 
overpowdered  and  subdued  the  piratical  crew. 
Twenty  Tripolitans  were  killed,  while  the  Ameri- 
cans did  not  lose  a  man.  All  the  batteries  in  the 
harbor  were  instantly  opened  upon  the  Philadel- 
phia, which  rendered  the  attempt  to  tow  her 
out  to  sea  so  extremely  hazardous,  that  Decatur 
ordered  the  ship  to  be  set  on  fire,  and  then,  ex- 


tricating the  Intrepid  from  the  burning  vessel, 
he  sailed  triumphantly  out  of  the  harbor. 

This  daring  and  successful  adventure  made 
him  the  hero  of  the  occasion,  and  won  for  him 
the  thanks  of  his  commander  and  the  praise  and 
admiration  of  his  fellow-officers.  Congress  also 
voted  him  the  thanks  of  the  nation  and  presented 
him  with  a  sword,  while  the  President  sent  him 
a  commission  as  captain. 

In  July  of  the  following  year  he  added  another 
laurel  to  his  wreath  of  fame  in  a  desperate  en- 
counter with  an  Algerine  chief,  which  is  thus 
described :  Commodore  Preble,  having  concen- 
trated his  forces  at  Tripoli,  opened  a  tremendous 
fire  of  shot  and  shell  upon  the  forts  and  war 
vessels  in  the  harbor.  In  this  memorable  com- 
bat Captain  Decatur  was  placed  in  command  of 
three  gun-boats  and  a  bombard,  and  he  handled 
his  forces  with  such  intrepidity  and  good  judgment 
that  the  success  of  the  battle  was  largety  due  to 
him.  The  enemy's  boats  were  moored  along  the 
mouth  of  the  harbor,  iu  two  divisions,  and  within 
musket-shot  of  their  batteries  on  shore.  Decatur 
determined  to  carry  the  eastern  division  by  board- 
ing. In  accomplishing  this  desperate  design  he 
had  to  contend  with  four  vessels  against  nine,  the 
latter  being  also  protected  by  shore-batteries  ;  but 
he  rushed  to  the  encounter  and  overcame  the 
fearful  odds  with  an  intrepidity  and  celerity  of 
movement,  which  astonished  and  dismayed  the 
enemy.  With  his  own  vessel  he  boarded  and 
carried  two  of  the  Tripolitan  boats  in  quick  suc- 
cession. As  he  sprang  on  board  the  second,  he 
singled  out  the  commander,  who  was  his  superior 
in  size  and  strength,  and  closing  with  him  they 
engaged  in  a  fierce  hand-to-hand  combat  with 
their  swords,  in  which  Decatur's  was  quickly 
broken.  He  then  grappled  with  the  Algerine, 
who  soon  bore  him  to  the  deck  with  his  over- 
powering strength,  and  was  in  the  act  of  plunging 
a  large  dirk  into  Decatur's  heart,  when  the  latter 
snatched  a  pistol  from  his  pocket  and  shot  his 
adversary  dead. 

While  this  was  taking  place,  an  Algerine  soldier 
sprang  forward  and  aimed  a  blow  at  Decatur  with 
his  scimitar,  but  an  American  sailor  named  James, 
who  had  already  been  severely  wounded  in  the 
arm,  observing  his  commander's  peril,  threw  him- 
self in  front  of  the  soldier  and  saved  Decatur's 
life  by  receiving  on  his  own  person  a  part  of  the 
stroke  intended  for  him.      It  was  one  of  those 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


575 


quick,  hot,  and  decisive  combats  which  so 
frequently  occurred  in  the  old-time  sea-fights,  and 
whose  results  depended  as  much  upon  chance  as 
the  courage  or  dexterity  of  the  contending  parties. 

In  1 8 15  the  troubles  between  the  Barbary  states 
and  our  country  were  renewed,  and  Decatur  was 
sent  in  command  of  a  squadron  to  enforce  a  satis- 
factory peace.  He  reached  Algiers  on  the  2Sth 
of  June,  and  in  less  than  forty-eight  hours  terrified 
the  regency  into  accepting  his  own  terms  ;  which 
were,  mainly,  that  no  tribute  should  ever  be 
required  by  Algiers  from  the  United  States  ;  that 
all  Americans  held  in  slavery  should  be  given  up 
without  ransom  ;  that  compensation  should  be 
made  for  American  property  which  had  been 
seized ;  that  all  citizens  of  the  United  States, 
taken  in  war,  should  be  treated  as  prisoners  of 
war  are  by  other  nations,  and  held  subject  to  an 
exchange  of  prisoners,  and  not  as  slaves. 

Having  exacted  similar  conditions  from  all  the 
other  Barbary  states,  he  sailed  for  home  in  triumph. 


THE  HUGUENOTS   OF  FRANCE,  AND  CONDI- 

TION  OF  THE  PEOPLE  OF  EUROPE 

DURING  THE  REFORMATION. 

CHE  term  Huguenot  is  peculiar  in  its  applica- 
tion by  the  Catholic  party  in  France  to  the 
several  branches  or  denominations  of  the  Pro- 
testants who  were  opposed  to  them  during  the 
religious  wars  of  the  Reformation.  Its  origin  is 
doubtless  connected  with  some  important  event 
or  circumstance,  and  as  the  term  will  be  forever 
prominently  connected  with  the  history  of  France 
and  the  Reformation,  it  would  be  interesting  to 
know  from  whence  it  came,  if  it  were  possible  to 
trace  it  to  the  beginning. 

William  Fare',  the  First  French  Reformer. 
The  Reformation  had  established  itself  on  a 
solid  footing  in  Germany,  Switzerland  and  Eng- 
land nearly  half  a  century  before  it  made  any 
headway  in  France.  It  is  true  that  the  leaven 
had  begun  to  work,  and  many  devoted  Christians 
were  looking  forward  to  the  time  when  "  God 
would  renew  the  world,"  but  no  active  effort  was 
made  to  bring  about  this  desired  renewal  until 
the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century.  There 
lived  at  that  time,  at  a  small  castle  near  Gap, 
in  Dauphiny,  a  young  man  of  ardent  imagination, 
fiery  temper  and  energetic  character,  named 
William  Farel.  He  was  devoted  to  the  religion 
of  the  ancient  Catholic  Church,  which  was  sacred 


to  him  through  association,  custom,  and  the 
established  usages  of  centuries ;  still,  he  was  am- 
bitious, as  all  young  men  have  a  right  to  be,  of 
making  a  mark  in  the  world  and  winning  fame 
for  himself;  and  this  desire  was  soon  strength- 
ened into  a  decided  purpose  by  the  rumors  that 
came  to  the  quiet  neighborhood,  from  time  to 
time,  of  the  glory  that  was  being  achieved,  in  the 
wars  of  their  common  country,  by  another  young 
man  whose  home  was  in  the  same  community, 
and  with  whom  Farel  was  intimately  acquainted 
— no  less  a  person,  in  fact,  than  the  subsequently 
celebrated  Chevalier  Bayard.  "Such  sons,"  was 
said  in  his  hearing,  one  day,  ' '  are  as  arrows  in 
the  hand  of  a  giant ;  blessed  is  he  who  hath  a 
quiver  full  of  them  ! ' '  This  saying  sank  into  the 
boy's  heart,  and  was  not  forgotten. 

Young  Farel  pressed  his  father  to  let  him  go, 
too,  and  make  himself  a  man  in  the  world,  and 
the  old  gentleman  would  have  willingly  permitted 
his  son  to  take  up  such  a  life  as  Bayard's,  but  it 
was  toward  the  University  of  Paris,  ' '  that  mother 
of  all  the  sciences,  that  pure  and  shining  mirror 
of  the  faith,"  that  the  young  man's  aspirations 
were  directed.  His  father  at  first  opposed  his 
wishes,  but  afterwards  yielded,  and  about  15 10 
the  youth  lauded  in  Paris.  From  this  date  we 
might  safely  count  the  beginning  of  the  Refor- 
mation in  France. 

At  the  University  there  was  a  doctor  of  theo- 
logy, named  Jacques  Lefevre,  a  man  already 
advanced  in  years,  of  mean  appearance  and  hum- 
ble origin,  but  who  for  seventeen  years  had  filled 
the  position  of  professor  with  credit  to  himself 
and  the  institution  he  represented.  Erasmus  said 
of  him  :  "  Amongst  many  thousands  of  men,  you 
will  not  find  any  of  higher  integrity  and  more 
versed  in  polite  letters  ;  "  and  Zwingle,  who  also 
knew  him,  wrote  :  "  He  is  very  fond  of  me  ;  he  is 
perfectly  open  and  good  ;  he  argues,  he  sings,  he 
plays,  and  he  laughs  with  me  at  the  follies  of  the 
world."  Between  this  happy  and  genial  old 
professor  and  the  fiery  young  man  from  Dau- 
phiny, there  soon  sprang  up  a  warm  attachment ; 
they  liked  one  another,  and  soon  became  frienchj. 
"  Never,"  said  Farel,  "  have  I  seen  a  chanter  of 
mass  who  chanted  it  with  deeper  reverence." 
But  this  old-fashioned  piety  did  not  interfere  with 
fhe  freedom  of  the  professor's  ideas  and  conversa- 
tions touching  either  the  abuses  or  the  doctrines 
of  the  Church.     "  How  shameful  it  is,"  he  would 


576   THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 


say  to  his  young  friend,  ' '  to  see  a  bishop  solicit- 
ing people  to  drink  with  him,  earing  for  naught 
but  gaming,  constantly  handling  the  dice  and  the 
dice-box,  frequently  hunting,  hallooing  after  birds 
and  game,  and  visiting  bad  houses.  Religion  has 
but  one  foundation,  but  one  end,  but  one  head — 
Jesus  Christ,  blessed  forever." 

These  conversations,  and  the  looseness  of  morals 
which  he  witnessed  daily  among  the  clergy,  had 
their  natural  effect  upon  the  pious  and  ardent 
young  student,   "  and  in  the  end,"  writes  Farel, 


queuces  he  fled,  and  travelled  in  Alsace  and  Switz- 
erland. In  1532,  he  was  invited  to  a  conference 
with  the  Catholics  at  Geneva.  Calvin  was  there 
also.  The  debates  grew  so  stormy  that  the  dele- 
gates came  to  blows,  and  the  civil  authorities  had 
to  interfere  to  prevent  bloodshed.  That  was  the 
way  they  argued  religious  questions  in  those 
times.  Each  party  believed  itself  right  and  wholly 
right,  and  neither  was  willing  to  make  any  con- 
cessions to  the  other.  It  has  been  truly  said  that 
there  is  nothing  more  dangerous  than  an  honest 


SCENE   IN   DAUPHINY,    FRANCE. 


"  little  by  little  the  papacy  slipped  from  its  place 
in  my  heart ;  it  did  not  come  down  at  the  first 
shock."  But  having  fallen,  it  never  rose  again  ; 
and  he  remained  from  that  time  till  the  close  of 
his  life  an  uncompromising  and  vehement  advo- 
cate of  reform. 

He  soon  began  to  preach  those  doctrines  which 
the  Church  denounced  as  heretical,  and  his  fiery 
zeal  drew  him  into  many  troubles.  One  day  he 
interrupted  a  procession  in  honor  of  St.  Anthony, 
laid  violent  hands  upon  the  statue  of  the  saint, 
and  threw  it  into  the  river.     To  escape  the  conse- 


man  engaged  in  a  rascally  calling,  and  during  the 
struggles  of  the  Reformation  the  opposing  factions 
were  not  only  honest,  but  terribly  in  earnest.  The 
most  frightful  wrongs  were  committed  by  both 
sides,  alwa3'S  in  the  name  of  religion,  and,  as 
they  sincerely  believed,  for  the  eternal  good  of 
those  who  were  punished.  The  Catholics  were 
no  worse  than  the  Protestants  ;  it  was  a  struggle 
for  existence  between  the  opposing  factions,  and 
the  only  reason  why  more  wrongs  were  committed 
by  the  Catholics  than  the  Protestants  was  because 
the  former  were    the  ruling   party    and   in  the 


(sv) 


578 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


majority.  Sleidan,  a  contemporary  historian, 
says  :  ' '  The  common  people  in  France  hold  that 
there  are  no  people  more  wicked  and  criminal 
than  heretics  ;  generally,  as  long  as  they  are  a  prey 
to  the  blazing  fagots,  the  people  around  them  are 
excited  to  frenzy,  and  curse  them  in  the  midst  of 
their  torments."      And  the  victims  just  as  fre- 


FAREI/S   ESCAPE   FROM   THE  SOLDIERS   OF    GUISE 

quently  cursed  and  derided  their  tormentors,  until 
death  silenced  them.  Is  it  any  wonder,  then, 
that  when  they  attempted  to  settle  their  differ- 
ences by  argument,  they  frequently  came  to  blows 
.and  ended  in  riot  ? 

After  the  incident  above  referred  to,  Farel  was 


banished  from  the  cit}r,   but  he  returned  a  year 
later,  and  in  1536  persuaded  Calvin  to  aid  him  in 
organizing  a    reformed  church    at  Geneva.     As 
usual,  in  all  reforms,  some  of  their  members  went 
to  extremes,  and  two  years  after  the  organization 
of  the  church,  a  faction  known  as  the   "Liber- 
tines," having  gained  the  upper  hand  in  the  elec- 
tion, both  Calvin 
and   Farel   were 
banished.      The 
latter   went    to 
Strasburg,     and 
having   organ- 
ized a  Protestant 
church  there,  he 
passed   on    into 
France,  to  a  place 
called    G  o  z  z  e  , 
where,   in    1543, 
while  preaching 
to    a    congrega- 
tion   of    Protes- 
tants, he  was  at- 
tacked by  a  body 
of  troops   under 
Claude  de  Guise, 
and    his    peoph 
were    dispersed, 
while  he   was 
wounded  and 
narrowly  escaped 
with  his  life.    He 
then    settled    as 
paster  cf  a  Pro- 
testant congre- 
gation  at  Neuf- 
chatel.     In  1557, 
he   incurred  the 
displeasure  of 
Calvin  and  other 
leaders   of    the 
Reformation,  by 
his  marriage    to 
a  young  girl,. dis- 
playing   in    this 
instance    his   usual     disregard    for    the   opinions 
of    others.       Four    years    later    he    returned    to 
his    native    town    of    Gap,     where    he    preached 
with   all    the   violence    of   his    youth,    and   was 
arrested    and    thrown    into   prison,    from    which 
his  followers  released  him   by  letting  him  dowc 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


579 


from  the  ramparts  in  a  basket,  in  imitation  of  the 
escape  of  Saint  Paul  from  Damascus.  Farel  died 
at  Neufchatel,  September  13,  1565.  We  have 
given  a  somewhat  extended  sketch  of  this  distin- 
guished man,  because  he  was  the  first  prominent 
leader  of  the  Reformation  in  France,  and  also 
because  his  character  and  conduct  are  representa- 
tive of  the  times  in  which  he  lived. 

Peculiar  Conditions  and  Influences  of  the  Times. 

In  considering  the  terrible  events  of  that  era, 
due  allowance  should  be  made  for  the  conditions 
and  influences  by  which   the   people  were   sur- 
rounded.    Monarchs  were  regarded  as  of  divine 
appointment,  and   the   maxim   that    "the   king 
can  do  no  wrong"  was  universally   believed  in. 
Governments   were   absolute,   depending   almost 
entirely  upon  the  will  of  the  kings  and  emperors, 
who  were  usually  ignorant  men,   controlled  by 
the  worst  passions  and  the  most  grovelling  super- 
stitions.   All  learning  was  confined  to  the  priests, 
who  were  but  little  less  superstitious  than  their 
ignorant  followers.     The  people  were  sunk  into 
the  lowest  depths  of  ignorance,  and  their  savage 
dispositions  were  rendered  sanguinary  and  brutal 
by  their  unquestioning  faith  in  all  sorts  of  super- 
natural follies.      All  classes,   from  the  educated 
priests  down  to  the  lowest  orders  of  society,  were 
earnest  believers  in  witchcraft  and  the  black  art. 
Even  the  great  leaders  of  the  Reformation,  like 
Luther  and  Calvin,  were  not  free  from  these  fol- 
lies.     Both  of  these  celebrated  characters  were 
pious  and  earnest  believers  in  witchcraft.    Luther 
not  only  imagined  that  he  had  been  honored  by 
a  personal  visit  from  the  great  arch  fiend,  whom 
he   frightened  away  by  flinging  his  ink-horn  at 
his  head,  but  he  also  fancied  that  the  devil  and 
his  imps  came  to  his  room  by  night  and  stole  nuts, 
which  they  cracked  against  his  bed-posts  for  the 
solacement  of  their  monkey-like  appetites.      If 
the  great  and  fearless  Luther  could  be  so  power- 
fully influenced  by  such  a  silly  superstition,  what 
should  we  not  expect  from  the  common,  ignorant 
and  besotted  herd  ? 

The  Absurdities  of  Witchcraft. 
A  short  account  of  this  singular  superstition 
will  help  to  a  better  understanding  of  the  events 
of  the  Reformation,  and  in  some  degree  excuse 
the  follies  and  horrors  that  were  enacted,  with 
the  utmost  sincerity  and  honesty  of  purpose,  in, 
the  holy  name  of  religion.  These  follies  and 
horrors  were  the  result,  not  of  natural  cruelty  or 


wickedness,  but  of  the  sterility  and  depravity  of 
the  uneducated  human  mind,  acting  as  a  blind* 
and  unreasoning  power. 

A  belief  that  certain  individuals  possessed 
magical  powers,  and  could  exercise  a  supernatu- 
ral influence  over  their  fellow-creatures,  existed 
in  ancient  Rome,  and  those  who  practised,  or 
pretended  to  exercise  such  arts,  were  punishable 
by  the  civil  magistrates.  The  Romans  viewed 
this  folly,  as  they  did  nearly  everything  else,  in  a 
purely  practical  light,  and  dealt  with  it  accord- 
ingly. Nearly,  if  not  quite  all,  the  other  ancient 
nations,  not  excepting  the  enlightened  Jews,  en- 
tertained similar  beliefs,  but  none  of  them  were 
quite  as  sensible  in  their  treatment  of  them  as  the 
practical  Romans.  But  neither  among  the  Roman 
nor  the  Pagan  nations  of  northern  Europe  was 
witchcraft  considered  an  offence  against  religion  ; 
in  some  instances,  and  indeed  in  probably  a  ma- 
jority of  them,  the  witch  was  supposed  to  be 
influenced  by  spirits  who  were  friendly  to  man- 
kind, and  the  profession,  though  feared,  was  held 
in  high  honor  by  the  infatuated  dupes. 

Upon  the  introduction  of  Christianity,  how- 
ever, witchcraft  assumed  a  new  form,  though  re- 
taining all  its  old  attributes.  Instead  of  ascribing 
the  supernatural  powers  of  the  practitioner  to  the 
gods,  to  Odin,  to  spirits  of  good  or  evil  disposi- 
tion, or  to  supposed  mysteries  in  nature,  the 
people  imputed  them  to  the  great  arch-fiend  ol 
the  Scriptures,  the  comm  ,n  enemy  of  God  ani 
mankind.  This  potent  be  lug  whose  power  see'jis 
to  have  been  regarded  as  equal  to  that  of  Divinity 
itself,  and  who  owes  his  origin  doubtless  to  the 
Zoroastrian  belief  in  the  contending  forces  of 
light  and  darkness,  with  a  wicked  and  malic'rOns 
desire  to  destroy  all  that  was  good  and  hopefil  in 
man's  destiny,  was  believed  to  enter  into  a  com- 
pact with  the  aspiring  witch,  in  which,  for  an 
irrevocable  assignment  of  her  soul  at  death,  he 
was  to  grant  all  her  wishes,  and  assist  in  all  her 
malevolent  projects.  These  new  features  of 
witchcraft  thoroughly  changed  and  prodigiously 
extended  the  superstition  throughout  Europe,  and 
its  influences  have  not  entirely  disappeared  even 
in  this  enlightened  century,  as  we  see  evidenced 
in  the  faint  belief  still  existing  in  signs,  omens, 
lucky  and  unlucky  days,  etc.,  which  cling  perti- 
naciously even  to  the  educated  classes.  From 
being  regarded  as  sporting  jugglery,  or  trickery 
in    practical   magic,    and   at    most  only   a   civil 


5b0 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


offence,  the  superstition  was  recognized  as  a  crime 
of  the  deepest  dye,  meriting  the  severest  punish- 
ment which  the  combined  civil  and  ecclesiastical 
wowers  could  inflict. 

As  the  superstition  gained  force  in  the  Christian 
tvorld,  as  it  did  by  slow  and  successive  steps 
during  the  entire  period  of  the  Middle  Ages,  that 
is  to  say,  from  about  the  fifth  to  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, the  devil  was  gradually  transformed,  through 
the  commingling  of  the  superstitions  of  different 
nations,  into  an  entirely  different  being,  combin- 
ing some  of  the  characteristics  of  the  Scandina- 
vian L,okke  with  those  of  a  Satyr  of  heathen 
mythology — a  person  equally  wicked  and  mali- 
cious as  the  sterner  spirit  of  evil,  but  rendered 
ludicrous  by  a  propensity  for  petty  trickery,  and 
by  such  personal  adornment  as  a  pair  of  horns,  a 
cow's  tail,  and  cloven  feet.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  the  demon  of  the  Middle  Ages  bor- 
rowed these  attributes  from  his  human  represen- 
tatives in  the  old  mysteries  and  plays,  where  a 
laudable  endeavor  was  made  to  render  the  evil 
one  as  ugly  as  possible.  It  was  supposed,  in 
fact,  that  he  could  assume  any  specious  disguise 
that  suited  him,  but  the  eye  of  the  initiated 
observer  could  readily  detect  the  "  cloven  foot. " 
Such  as  he  was,  he  played  an  important  part  in 
the  annals  of  modern  witchcraft,  which  was  sup- 
posed to  rest  entirely  upon  the  direct  personal 
agency  of  himself  and  the  imps  commissioned  by 
him.  Nor  was  the  supposition  confined  to  the 
illiteiate,  or  to  persons  of  peculiarly  credulous 
temperaments.  Authors,  distinguished  for  sense 
and  talent,  record  with  great  seriousness  that  the 
devil  once  delivered  a  course  of  lectures  on  magic 
at  Salamanca,  habited  in  a  professor's  gown  and 
wig  ;  and  that  at  another  time  he  rented  a  house 
in  Milan,  where  he  lived  in  great  style,  rather 
imprudently  assuming  the  suspicious  but  appro- 
priate title  of  the   "  Duke  of  Mammon." 

The  powers  ascribed  to  this  debased  demon 
were  exceedingly  great.  It  was  believed  that 
through  his  agency  storms  at  sea  or  on  land  could 
be  made  to  prevail  at  any  time  or  season  ;  that 
crops  could  be  blighted,  or  cattle  injured  ;  that 
bodily  illness  or  injury  could  be  inflicted  upon 
any  person  who  was  the  object  of  secret  malice  ; 
that  the  dead  could  be  raised  to  life  ;  that  witches 
could  ride  through  the  air  on  broom-sticks,  and 
transform  themselves  into  the  shapes  of  cats,  rab- 
bits, or  other  animals,  at  pleasure.     On  a  certain 


historic  occasion  the  murrain  which  swept  off 
more  than  a  third  part  of  the  cattle  on  the  Brit- 
ish Isles  was  attributed  to  the  influence  of  the 
witches,  and  many  innocent  and  deserving,  but 
helpless  and  friendless,  old  women  suffered  the 
horrors  of  torture  and  death  in  consequence. 

An  old  writer,  speaking  of  the  powers  of 
witches,  says  :  "  i.  Some  work  their  bewitchings 
only  by  way  of  invocation  or  imprecation.  They 
wish  it,  or  will  it,  and  so  it  falls  out.  2.  Some 
by  way  of  emissary,  sending  out  their  imps  or 
familiars  to  crosse  the  way,  jostle,  affront,  flash 
in  the  face,  barke,  howle,  bite,  scratch,  or  other- 
wise infest.  3.  Some  by  inspecting,  or  looking 
on,  or  to  glare,  or  peep  at  with  an  envious  and 
evil  eye.  4.  Some  by  a  hollow  muttering  or 
mumbling.  5.  Some  by  breathing  or  blowing  on. 
6.  Some  by  cursing  and  banning.  7.  Some  by 
blessing  and  praising.  8.  Some  revengefully,  by 
occasion  of  ill  turnes.  9.  Some  ungratefully,  and 
by  occasion  of  good  turnes.  10.  Some  by  leaving 
something  of  theirs  in  your  house.  1 1 .  Some  by 
getting  something  of  yours  in  their  house.  12. 
Some  have  a  more  special  way  of  working  by 
several  elements — earth,  water,  ayre,  or  fire.  But 
who  can  tell  the  manner  of  ways  of  a  witch's 
working  ;  that  works  not  only  darkly  and  closely, 
but  variously  and  versatilly,  as  God  will  permit, 
the  devil  can  suggest,  or  the  malicious  hag  can 
devise  to  put  in  practice." 

Learned  treatises  and  volumes  were  composed 
on  the  subject  of  witches  and  witchcraft,  couched 
in  the  most  self-complacent  and  pious  language, 
as  if  the  authors  were  perfectly  familiar  with  all 
the  devious  ways  and  wicked  arts  of  these 
deceivers  of  men,  and  had  been  divinely  com- 
missioned to  expose  them  and  warn  the  less  intel- 
ligent and  more  easily  influenced  portion  of  their 
fellow-creatures.  The  productions  of  nearly  all 
the  Middle  Age  writers  are  didactic  and  assertive 
in  style.  They  seemed  to  consider  that  they 
perfectly  understood  every  subject  which  they 
deigned  to  write  about,  and  having  asserted  what 
they  knew  to  be  true,  all  men  were  expected  10 
hold  their  peace  and  believe.  This  peculiarity  is 
specially  noticeable  in  the  "Institutes"  of  Cal- 
vin. It  requires  but  little  study  of  that  ponderous 
and  soporific  work  to  convince  the  reader  that  the 
learned  author,  at  least  in  his  own  estimation,  was 
on  very  intimate  and  confidential  terms  with  the 
Creator,  and  that  his  assertion  of  God's  will  and 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


581 


purposes  was  final  and  irrevocable.  Our  own 
amusing  and  inimitable  Cotton  Mather,  the  great 
clerical  Eli  Perkins  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
indulged  a  similar  belief  in  his  own  omniscience, 
and  favored  a  gaping  world  with  much  wisdom 
on  the  subject  of  witchcraft,  in  its  .relations  to 
America,  some  of  which  we  have  copied  in  these 
pages  for  the  amusement  of  the  children  of  the 
nineteenth  and  twentieth  centuries. 

In  the  present  age  of  comparative  intelligence, 
it  is  difficult  to  understand  how  human  beings 
could  be  so  deplorably  ignorant  as  to  entertain 
such  a  gross  superstition  ;  but  we  must  remember 
that  the  belief  was  fostered  by  religious  impres- 
sions, and  that  it  was  long  considered  a  mark  of 
impiety  to  doubt  the  existence  of  witches.  In 
addition  to  this,  the  laws  of  nature  were  unknown, 
or  but  imperfectly  understood,  and  the  weak  and 
easily  terrified  mind  of  man  flew  to  the  conclusion 
that  all  evil  proceeded  from  a  malignant  cause, 
and  that  by  certain  impious  dealings  it  was  possi- 
ble for  men  to  direct  that  power  against  their 
neighbors. 

The  superstition  seems  to  have  approached  its 
highest  point  about  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury. Pope  Innocent,  in  his  bull  of  1484,  charged 
the  Inquisitors  and  others  to  discover  and  destroy 
all  such  as  were  guilty  of  witchcraft.  Immediately 
there  followed  a  regular  form  of  process  and  trial 
for  suspected  witches,  based  upon  the  rules  and 
instructions  given  in  the  Malleus  Maleficarum,  or  a 
"Hammer  for  Witches,"  upon  which  all  judges 
were  called  scrupulously  to  act.  Other  bulls  in 
enforcement  of  this  were  subsequently  issued  in 
1494  by  Pope  Alexander  VI.,  in  1521  by  Leo  X., 
and  in  1522  by  Adrian  VI.,  each  adding  vigor  to 
its  predecessor,  and  the  whole  serving  to  increase 
the  agitation  of  the  public  upon  the  subject.  The 
results  were  fearful.  A  panic  fright  of  witchcraft 
took  possession  of  society.  Every  one  was  at  the 
mercy  of  his  neighbor.  If  any  one  felt  an  unac- 
countable illness,  or  a  peculiar  pain  in  any  part  of 
the  body,  or  suffered  any  misfortune  in  his  family 
affairs,  or  if  a  storm  arose  and  committed  any 
damage  by  sea  or  land,  or  if  any  cattle  died  sud- 
denly, or,  in  short,  if  any  event,  circumstance  or 
thing  occurred  out  of  the  regular  routine  of  daily 
experience,  the  cause  of  it  was  attributed  to 
witchcraft.  To  be  accused  was  to  be  doomed,  for 
it  rarely  happened  that  proof  was  wanting,  or  that 
condemnation  was  not  followed  by  execution.    If 


the  accused  did  not  at  once  confess,,  their  bodies 
were  ordered  to  be  shaved  and  clo&ely  examined 
for  "devils'  marks;"  it  being  a  tenet  in  the 
delusion  that  the  devil,  on  inaugurating  a  witch, 
impressed  certain  marks  upon  her  person ;  and  if 
any  strange  mark  was  discovered,  such  as  a  pecu- 
liar mole,  scar,  birth-mark,  etc.,  there  remained 
no  longer  any  doubt  of  the  guilt  of  the  helpless 
victim.  If  no  evidence  of  this  kind  could  be 
found,  torture  was  applied,  and  this  seldom  failed 
to  extort  the  desired  confession  from  the  unhappy 
victim.  A  large  proportion  of  the  accused  witches, 
in  order  to  avoid  these  preliminary  horrors,  con- 
fessed in  any  terms  which  might  be  dictated  to 
them,  and  were  forthwith  led  to  execution.  Others 
seemed  to  confess  voluntarily,  being  probably 
insane  or  feeble-minded  beings  whose  reason  had 
been  distorted  by  brooding  over  the  popular 
witchcraft  craze,  or  who  in  this  dangerous  manner 
sought  public  notoriety.  A  singular  instance  of  ' 
this  last  phase  of  the  delusion  occurred  in  Scot- 
land during  the  reign  of  James  VII.,  afterwards 
James  I.,  of  England,  whose  mental  calibre  was 
well  suited  to  a  belief  in  witchcraft  and  an  unrea- 
soning prosecution  of  witches.  In  1 590  this  kingly 
persecutor  of  helpless  old  women  made  a  voyage 
to  Denmark,  to  see,  marry,  and  bring  home  his 
appointed  bride,  the  Princess  Anne.  Soon  after 
his  arrival  in  Denmark  a  tremendous  witch  con- 
spiracy against  the  happy  conclusion  of  his  home- 
ward voyage  was  discovered,  one  of  the  principal 
witches  implicated  in  the  affair  being  Mrs.  Agnes 
Sampson,  commonly  called  the  Wise  Wife  oj 
Keith,  from  her  native  place.  She  is  described  in 
the  records  of  the  trial  as  "grave,  matron-like, 
and  settled  in  her  answers."  The  king  presided 
in  person  at  the  examination,  and  even  superin- 
tended the  tortures  applied  to  the  victims  to  force 
their  confessions.  The  statements  made  by  the 
poor  wretches  under  these  circumstances  form  a 
singular  tissue  of  the  ludicrous  and  the  horrible 
in  intimate  union. 

"The  said  Agnes  Sampson,"  so  runs  the 
record,  "was  after  brought  again  before  the 
king's  majestie  and  his  council,  and  being  ex- 
amined of  the  meetings  and  detestable  dealings 
of  those  witches,  she  confessed  that  upon  the 
night  of  All-Hallow-Eveu  she  was  accompanied, 
as  well  with  the  persons  aforesaid,  as  also  v  :th 
a  great  many  other  witches,  to  the  number  of 
two  hundred,  and  that  they  all  together  wen'   to 


(582) 


msm 


ARRESTING   A  WITCH. 


THE   BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


583 


sea,  each  one  in  a  riddle  or  sieve,  and  went  in  the 
same  way  substantially,  with  flaggons  of  wine, 
making  merrie  and  drinking  by  the  way  in  the 
same  riddles,  or  sieves,  to  the  Kirk  of  North- 
Berwick,  in  Lothian,  and  that  after  the}'  had 
landed,  took  hands  on  the  land,  and  danced  this 
reil,  or  short  daunce,  singing  all  with  one  voice, 

"  '  Cummer,  goe  ye  before,  cummer,  goe  ye  ; 
Gif  ye  will  not  goe  before,  cummer,  let  me. s 

"At  which  she  confessed  that  Geillis  Duncan 
did  ^'jc  before  them,  playing  this  reil  or  daunce 
upon  a  small  trump,  called  a  Jew's-harp,  until 
they  entered  into  the  Kirk  of  North-Berwick. 
These  made  the  king  in  a  wonderful  admiration, 
and  he  sent  for  the  said  Geillis  Duncan,  who  upon 
the  like  tramp  did  play  the  said  daunce  before 
the  king's  majestie,  who,  in  respect  of  the  strange- 
ness of  these  matters,  took  great  delight  to  be 
present  at  their  examinations." 

In  these  confessions  the  witches  pandered  to 
the  king's  vanity  on  all  occasions,  probably  in 
the  vain  hope  of  mitigating  their  own  doom. 
Agnes  Sampson  declared  that  it  was  the  ardent 
desire  of  Satan,  their  master,  to  destroy  the  king, 
and  that  this  was  the  sole  object  of  the  events 
just  described.  "The  witches  demanded  of  the 
devill, ' '  said  she,  ' '  why  he  did  beare  much  hatred 
to  the  king,  who  answered,  by  reason  the  king  is 
the  greatest  enemie  hee  hath  in  the  world."  Such 
a  eulogy  from  such  a  quarter  could  not  fail  to 
to  be  exceedingly  agreeable  to  the  vanity  of  the 
"Scottish  Solomon,"  but  it  did  not  relieve  the 
poor  victims  from  the  horrors  of  the  most  ex- 
quisite tortures.  Among  other  persons  who  were 
tried  by  the  king  and  his  council  at  this  time 
was  one  Dr.  Fian,  who  seems  to  have  been  a  man 
above  the  average  of  his  day  in  education  and 
intelligence.  The  witches,  through  malice  or 
heedlessness,  declared  that  the  Doctor  was  always 
a  prominent  person  at  their  meetings,  and  this 
declaration  decided  his  fate.  After  undergoing 
the  tortures  of  hanging  and  "the  boot,"*  he 
seems  only  to  have  thought  how  he  could  best 
get  up  a  story  that  would  bring  him  to  a  speedy 
death.  Thereupon  he  admitted  that  he  was  the 
devil's  "register"  or  clerk,  who  took  the  oaths 
from  all  the  witches  at  their  initiation,  and  he 
avowed  having  bewitched  various  persons  him- 

*An  instrument  fitted  to  the  foot,  which  could  be  com- 
pressed by  means  of  screws  until  it  would  crush  the  flesh 
and  bones  into  a  pulp. 


self.  In  proof  of  the  latter  statement  he  instanced 
a  case  of  a  man  near  Saltpans,  whom  he  had  so 
practiced  upon,  he  said,  that  the  victim  fell  into 
fits  at  intervals.  This  person,  who  seems  to  have 
been  a  lunatic,  or  afflicted  with  St.  Vitus's  dance, 
was  sent  for,  and,  as  the  record  states,  ' '  being  in 
his  majestie's  chamber,  suddenly  he  gave  a  great 
scritch,  and  fell  into  madnesse,  sometimes  bend- 
ing himself,  and  sometimes  capring  so  directly 
up  that  his  heade  did  touch  the  seeling  of  the 
chamber,  to  the 'great  admiration  of  his  majestie."' 
This  poor  idiotic  wretch  was  soon  afterwards, 
by  order  of  his  "most  Christian  majestie," 
strangled  and  then  burnt  on  the  Castle  hill  of 
Edinburgh.  Dr.  Fian  was  sent  to  prison,  from 
which  he  managed  to  escape,  but  was  soon  re- 
captured and  subjected  to  the  most  fearful  and 
brutal  tortures,  as  follows  :  ' '  His  nails  upon  all 
his  fingers  were  riven  and  pulled  off"  with  an  in- 
strument called  in  Scottish  a  Turkas,  which  in 
English  are  called  a  payre  of  pincers,  and  under 
everie  nayle  there  was  thrust  in  two  needles  over, 
even  up  to  the  heads  ;  at  all  which  torments, 
notwithstanding,  the  doctor  never  shrunk  a  whit, 
neither  would  he  then  confess  it  the  sooner  for  all 
the  tortures  inflicted  upon  him.  Then  was  hee, 
with  all  convenient  speed,  by  commandment, 
convaied  again  to  the  torment  of  the  bootes, 
wherein  he  continued  a  long  time,  and  did  abide 
so  man}-  blowes  in  them  that  his  legges  were 
crusht  and  beaten  together  as  small  as  might  bee, 
whereby  they  were  made  unserviceable  forever. ' ' 
And  King  James  not  only  directed,  but  was  a 
willing  and  interested  witness  of  these  horrifying 
details  ! 

Other  records  of  trials  and  executions  for  witch- 
craft, at  various  periods  and  in  different  countries, 
will  serve  to  still  further  illustrate  the  deplorable 
condition  of  mankind  during  the  period  of  the 
Reformation. 

In  the  single  year  1485,  Cumanas,  an  inquisitor, 
burnt  forty-one  poor  women  as  witches,  in  the 
county  of  Burlia,  having  first  caused  them  to  be 
shaven  and  searched  for  "witch  marks."  He 
continued  the  persecutions  the  following  year, 
and  man}'  women  fled  out  of  the  country. 

About  the  same  time  another  inquisitor  ournt 
a  hundred  women  in  the  city  of  Piedmont,  and 
was  proceeding  daily  to  burn  more,  when  the 
people  arose  and  chased  him  out  of  the  country. 

T'i  1488  a  violent  tempest  of  thunder  and  light- 


584 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


ning  in  Constance  destroyed  the  corn  for  four 
leagues  round.  The  people  accused  two  poor 
old  women  of  having  caused  the  storm,  and  they 
were  accordingly  burnt. 

About  the  same  time  one  of  the  inquisitors 
came  to  a  certain  town  which  had  been  almost 
desolated  by  the  plague  and  famine.  A  report 
was  current  that  a  certain  woman,  buried  not  long 
before,  was  eating  up  her  winding-sheet,  and  that 
the  plague  would  not  cease  till  she  had  made  an 
end  of  it.  The  matter  being  taken  into  consider- 
ation, the  chief  magistrate  of  the  city  opened 
the  grave,  and  found  that  she  had  indeed  (so  says 
the  record)  swallowed  and  devoured  one-half  of 
her  winding-sheet.  The  magistrate,  moved  with 
horror  at  the  thing,  drew  out  his  sword  and  cut 
off  her  head,  and  threw  it  into  a  ditch,  and  im- 
mediately the  plague  ceased  !  After  this  the 
Inquisition  "sat  upon  the  case,"  and  it  was  found 
that  she  had  been  long  a  reputed  witch  ! 

In  1524  a  thousand  persons  were  burned  as 
witches  in  the  small  diocese  of  Como,  and  a  hun- 
dred per  annum  for  several  years  thereafter. 

In  15 1 5  five  hundred  witches  were  burned  in 
the  city  of  Geneva,  within  the  space  of  three 
months.  It  is  estimated  by  careful  authorities 
that  between  16 10  and  1660,  a  space  of  only  fifty 
years,  over  100,000  persons  were  executed  as 
witches  in  Germany  alone  ;  and  this  country, 
■owing  to  the  liberty-loving  character  of  its  people, 
was  less  affected  by  the  superstition  than  such 
■nations  as  France,  Spain,  Italy,  etc.  It  is  safe  to 
•estimate  that  during  the  entire  period  of  the 
witchcraft  delusion,  there  were  executed  for  this 
supposed  crime,  in  all  the  Christian  nations,  not 
less  than  one  million  persons,  principally  helpless 
old  women,  who  should  have  excited  the  sym- 
pathies of  their  persecutors  instead  of  their  ani- 
mosity. But  there  is  no  frenzy  so  unreasoning 
and  cruel  as  religious  frenzy,  and  its  fur}-  is  in 
exact  proportion  to  its  sincerity  and  honest}-. 
Some  one  who  has  studied  this  subject  has  given 
a  list  of  the  classes  of  persons  who  were  destroyed 
as  witches  in  two  German  towns,  and  the  list  is 
doubtless  also  representative  of  the  victims  in 
other  cities  and  countries.  There  were  children 
of  nine,  ten,  eleven  and  twelve  years  of  age. 
Boys  of  noble  families  ;  two  sons  of  a  Senator ; 
a  strange  boy  who  had  wandered  into  the  town, 
and  had  no  visible  means  of  support  ;  a  little 
blind  girl ;  the  prettiest  girl  in  Wurtzburg,  whose 


beaut}-  had  excited  the  envy  of  her  rival,  etc., 
etc.  But  the  greater  part  of  this  horrible  cata- 
logue was  made  up  of  infirm  old  women  and 
unknown  travellers.  It  should  be  remembered, 
also,  that  these  frightful  horrors  were  enacted  a 
hundred  years  after  the  death  of  Luther,  when 
the  light  of  the  Reformation  had  penetrated  the 
mental  darkness  of  all  the  nations  of  Europe. 
This  fearful  witch  delusion  was  not  confined  to 
one  denomination  or  shade  of  religious  belief,  but 
all  were  alike  guilty.  Catholics  and  Protestants, 
while  religiously  cutting  one  another's  throats, 
also  vied  with  each  other  in  their  persecutions  of 
the  witches.  It  was  the  climacteric  period  of  the 
religious  insanity  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
Some  Curious  Instances. 

The  belief  in  witches  and  demons  seems  to  have 
been  co-equal  with  the  creation  cf  man.  The 
Talmudic  stories  relate  that  Adam  had  a  wife 
called  Lilith  before  he  married  Eve,  and  that  she 
bore  him  nothing  but  devils.  This  Lilith,  or 
Lillis,  figures  in  the  Middle  Ages  as  a  famous 
witch,  and  is  introduced  by  Goethe  in  the  Wal- 
purgis  night  scene  in  "Faust."  The  Cabalists 
made  Adam  the  natural  king  of  the  world  of 
spirits  before  his  fall,  and  described  Solomon  as 
an  accomplished  magician.  A  similar  character 
is  attributed  to  the  latter  by  Josephus.  Other 
ancient  Jewish  writers  divided  demons  into  nine 
classes,  as  follows:  1.  False  gods  of  the  Gen- 
tiles, whose  prince  is  Beelzebub.  2.  Liars  and 
equivocators,  as  the  Pythian  Apollo.  3.  Invent- 
ors of  mischief  and  vessels  of  anger,  whose  prince 
is  Belial.  4.  Malicious,  revenging  devils,  who 
are  governed  by  Asmodeus.  5.  Cozeners,  magi- 
cians and  witches,  whose  prince  is  Satan.  6. 
Devils  of  the  air,  spoken  of  in  the  Apocalypse, 
who  corrupt  the  atmosphere  and  cause  plagues, 
thunders  and  fires,  and  whose  prince  is  Meresin. 
7.  The  destroyer,  who  is  called  Abaddon  in  the 
Apocalypse,  and  who  causes  wars,  tumults,  com- 
bustions and  uproars.  S.  The  accusing,  calum- 
niating devil,  Diabolus,  who  drives  men  to 
despair.  9.  Tempters  of  several  sorts,  whose 
prince  is  Mammon. 

Paracelsus,  a  learned  Swiss  alchemist  and  writer 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  declared  that  the  air  is 
not  so  full  of  flies  in  summer  as  it  is  at  all  times 
of  invisible  devils.  Demons  and  sorcerers  were 
supposed  to  celebrate  their  nocturnal  orgies  in  an 
assembly  called  the  "  sabbat,"  the  time  of  meet- 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


585 


ing  being  made  known  to  them  by  a  peculiar 
sensation  in  their  "witch-marks,"  imprinted 
upon  their  bodies  by  the  devil.  In  case  of 
urgency  a  sheep  appeared  in  a  cloud  in  the  sky, 
which  was  invisible  to  all  except  the  servants  and 
ministers  of  Satan.  Before  starting  on  their  jour- 
ney to  the  place  of  meeting  it  was  necessary  for 
them  to  fall  asleep  for  a  short  time,  or  close  one 
eye,  after  which  they  flew  to  the  "  sabbat " 
through  the  air,  on  staves  or  broom-sticks,  or  on 
the  backs  of  subaltern  demons,  and  were  often 
transformed  into  goats,  cats,  or  other  animals. 
Stolen  children  were  brought  to  the  presiding 
devil,  and  forced  to  swear  to  renounce  God,  the 
virgin,  and  the  saints,  and  were  marked  with  one 
of  his  horns  with  a  sign  which  they  bore  during 
th^ir  novitiate.  This  belief  was  the  cause  of  the 
execution  of  so  many  children  during  the  preva- 
lence of  the  delusion. 

European  nations,  as  a  rule,  represented  their 
demons  as  black,  while  the  African  negroes  sup- 
posed them  to  be  white  ;  the  opposite  color  in 
each  case  being  selected  as  the  most  appropriate 
for  the  spirits  of  evil.  An  anecdote  illustrative  of 
this  propensity  is  related  of  a  negro  preacher.  In 
the  midst  of  an  energetic  sermon  he  announced  to 
his  congregation  that  hell  was  an  extremely  cold 
place,  abounding  with  frozen  lakes  and  rivers, 
while  icicles  as  long  as  his  arm  hung  from  the 
ceilings  of  the  dungeons  in  which  the  condemned 
were  confined.  At  the  close  of  the  sermon  a  white 
man  who  was  present  remonstrated  with  him,  for 
representing  the  abode  of  the  wicked  as  a  frozen 
region,  when  holy  writ  declared  that  it  was  a  lake 
of  fire.  "  Ah, "  said  he  in  reply,  ' '  it  would  never 
do  to  tell  my  people  that  hell  is  a  hot  place,  for 
they  love  a  warm  climate,  and  would  go  there  in 
spite  of  everything."  In  other  words,  the  white 
man's  hell  is  the  negro's  heaven. 

It  is  asserted  that  there  are  still  witches  in  Swe- 
den and  Norway  who  make  a  living  by  selling 
favorable  winds  to  superstitious  sailors.  Eric  IX. , 
of  Sweden,  called  Saint  Eric  after  his  death,  on 
account  of  his  efforts  to  spread  Christianity  among 
his  people  and  the  barbarians  of  the  adjacent 
islands,  is  said  to  have  possessed  an  enchanted 
cap,  by  virtue  of  which  and  some  magical  words, 
he  could  command  spirits  to  trouble  the  air,  make 
the  wind  blow  in  whatever  direction  he  pleased, 
or  raise  tempests  to  destroy  his  enemies. 

During  the  prevalence  of  the  witch  superstition 


great  stress  was  laid  upon  certain  cabalistic  words, 
the  greatest  of  these  being  Agla.  It  was  supposed 
that  when  this  word  was  uttered  toward  the  east 
it  would  either  drive  away  malignant  spirits  or 
produce  marvellous  revelations.  An  incident  is 
mentioned  of  a  child  who,  having  heard  some 
frightful  spell  muttered,  caught  the  words  and 
repeated  them  till  such  tempests  and  thuuderings 
were  produced  that  a  whole  village  was  burned  by 
the  lightning.  Jacob  Boehm,  a  German  mystic 
and  religious  writer  of  the  early  part  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  declared  that  he  had  discovered  the 
original  name  of  the  devil,  but  he  could  not  dis- 
close it  without  peril  to  his  soul,  so  tremendous 
would  be  its  influence.  This  same  Jacob  Boehm 
was  a  voluminous  author  of  theological  works, 
but  his  books,  like  those  of  so  man}'  other  writers 
on  kindred  subjects,  were  incomprehensible. 
This,  however,  did  not  hinder  them  from  having 
many  admirers,  and  after  his  death  a  large  sect 
was  founded  upon  a  belief  in  his  meaningless  rav- 
ings. 

It  was  also  believed,  during  the  period  of  the 
witchcraft  delusion,  that  certain  persons  had  the 
power  to  imprison  demons  and  employ  their  ser- 
vices in  whatever  manner  they  might  choose.  It 
was  supposed  that  Paracelsus,  the  Swiss  alchemist 
previously  referred  to,  had  a  demon  confined  in 
the  hilt  of  his  sword,  but  his  brother  alchemists 
wisely  maintained  that  it  was  the  philosopher's 
stone,  and  no  demon  at  all.  Much  mediaeval 
wisdom  was  expended  in  the  consideration  of  this 
momentous  question,  but  it  could  never  be  fully 
decided.  The  magicians  of  Salamanca  and  Toledo 
were  supposed  to  keep  their  devils  confined  in 
finger  rings,  phials,  boxes  and  caskets,  from 
whence  they  were  sent  forth  at  the  will  of  their 
masters  to  do  whatever  might  be  commanded  of 
them.  The  ancient  Jews  were  persuaded  that 
Solomon  wore  a  signet  ring,  with  the  hidden  name 
of  God  engraved  upon  it,  which  gave  him  com- 
mand of  the  spirits,  and  transported  him  every 
day  at  noon  into  the  firmament,  where  he  heard 
the  secrets  of  the  universe,  and  thus  diurnally 
increased  his  exhaustless  store  of  wisdom. 

At  the  Council  of  Antioch,  A.D.  341,  a  special 
ecclesiastical  order  was  established  in  the  Chris- 
tian Church,  and  denominated  Exorcists.  They 
are  still  recognized  in  the  Latin  Church  as  one 
of  the  four  minor  orders  of  the  clergy.  It  is  their 
office,  in  the  name  of  God,  Christ,  and  the  saints, 


.336 


THE  WONDERFUL,   THE  CURIOUS,   AND  THE 


and  b)'  the  use  of  holy  water,  the  sign  of  the 
cross,  the  recitation  of  psalms,  litanies,  prayers, 
and  adjurations,  to  expel  the  evil  spirits,  who,  it 
is  believed,  by  divine  permission  not  only  tempt 
the  soul  but  frequently  also  possess  the  bod}'. 
This  belief  was  general  throughout  the  known 
ivorld  previous  to  the  advent  of  Christ,  aud  was 
recognized  in  the  Gospels,  where  the  Saviour  is 
represented  as  casting  out  devils  and  evil  spirits. 
At  the  time  of  the  Reformation  this  power,  as 
well  as  the  ability  to  perform  miracles,  was 
claimed  as  one  of  the  tests  of  the  divinity  of  the 
Catholic  Church,  the  Jesuits  denying  that  heret- 
ical teachers  had  ever  been  able  to  manifest  such 
power. 

The  Lycanthropes. 

During  the  eleventh  century  there  appeared  a 
peculiar  madness  which  has  been  designated  as 
lycanthropia.  The  victimsbf  this  strange  hallucina- 
tion imagined  that  the)-  were  dogs  or  wolves,  and  no 
argument  or  reasoning  could  convince  them  to 
the  contrary.  It  was  their  custom  to  lie  hid  dur- 
ing the  daytime,  and  issue  forth  with  the  setting 
of  the  sun  to  howl  during  the  night  around 
graveyards  and  in  desert  places.  The  madness 
spread  through  the  whole  of  central  and  northern 
Europe,  and  seemed  to  be  highly  contagious.  In 
1374,  during  the  festivities  of  midsuninier-day  at 
Aix-la-Chapelle,  a  large  troop  of  infatuated  men 
and  women  rushed  into  the  city  from  the  adjacent 
country,  and  gathering  in  the  public  squares  and 
churches  danced  furiously  in  circles  for  many 
hours,  apparently  unconscious  of  the  presence  of 
spectators,  until  the)-  sank  upon  the  ground  from 
exhaustion,  where  they  writhed  and  groaned  in 
apparent  agony.  While  in  this  state  they  pro- 
fessed to  see  visions  of  good  and  evil  spirits,  to 
whom  they  called  by  name.  Skeptics  and  incre- 
dulous spectators  who  came  to  witness  the  phe- 
nomenon were  themselves  infected,  and  danced 
and  became  ecstatic  in  their  turn.  Exorcism  was 
powerless  against  this  remarkable  infatuation. 
The  victims  claimed  that  their  dances  were  per- 
formed in  honor  of  St.  John,  and  they  were  accord- 
ingly designated  Chorea  Sanrfi  Johannis.  When 
it  was  decided  by  the  Rhenish  provinces  to  banish 
every  person  who  was  attacked,  the  disease  soon 
disappeared  from  those  regions.  It  reappeared  in 
Strasburg  in  14 18,  and  the  victims  could  do 
nothing  but  dance  till  they  were  dead  or  cured. 
This  phase  of  the  maladv  was  entitled  St.   T'u>ts's 


Dance,  and  it  is  still  recognized  as  a  nervous  dis- 
order by  physicians  of  our  own  times,  but  is  now 
rarely,  if  ever,  caused  by  religious  excitement. 
In  1491  the  nuns  of  Cambria  were  seized  with 
lycanthropia,  and  for  the  space  of  four  years  ran 
like  wild  dogs  over  the  country,  sprang  into  the 
air  like  birds,  climbed  trees  like  cats,  hung  on 
the  branches,  imitated  the  cries  of  animals,  and 
uttered  divinations.  At  last  the  exorcists  took  a 
hand  in  the  matter,  and  forced  the  devil  to  admit 
that  he  was  the  cause  of  all  these  strange  things  ; 
and  the  secular  and  ecclesiastical  authorities- 
enacted  the  most  severe  penalties  against  such 
exhibitions,  whereupon  they  soon  ceased.  Vol- 
taire relates  that  in  the  district  of  Jura,  during 
two  years  between  159S  and  1600,  more  than  six 
hundred  lycanthropes  were  condemned  to  death 
by  one  judge. 

Manifestations  of  lycanthropia  and  kindred 
manias  continued  to  appear  at  intervals  in  differ- 
ent countries,  but  with  constantly  decreasing  ma- 
levolence, until  about  the  middle  of  the  present 
century.  The  last  well  defined  case  of  which 
there  is  any  record  took  place  in  our  own  country, 
in  Montgomery  County,  Missouri,  about  1850. 
A  young  girl  named  Katy  Williamson  was  sub- 
ject to  attacks  of  what  was  known  locally  as  the 
"jerks,"  aud  on  a  certain  occasion,  during  the 
progress  of  a  camp-meeting  under  the  auspices 
of  the  Cumberland  Presbyterians,  she  became 
more  violently  afflicted  than  usual.  Some  men 
standing  near  began  to  laugh  at  her  contortions 
and  antics,  when  she  sprang  toward  them,  snap- 
ping her  teeth  and  bounding  into  the  air  in  such 
an  unearthly  fashion  that  the  men  were  badly 
frightened  and  ran  away.  On  another  occasion 
the  same  girl,  while  under  the  influence  of  the 
mania,  threw  herself  upon  the  ground,  and  as- 
suming the  motions  and  appearance  of  a  reptile, 
horrified  all  the  spectators  with  her  fearful  and 
hideous  convolutions. 

These  later  instances  were  but  the  last  faint 
struggles  of  the  expiring  monster  who  played 
such  fantastic  and  fearful  tricks  during  the  Mid- 
dle Ages,  the  fountain-head  of  whose  vitality  had 
been  sapped  by  the  penetrating  probe  of  intelli- 
gence and  civilization. 

Commencement  of  the  Huguenot   persecutions. 

Having  by  this  digression  shown  the  lament- 
able condition  of  the  people  of  Europe  during 
the  period  of  the   Reformation,  we  will  now  be 


BEAUTIFUL  IN  THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


587 


better  prepared  to  understand  the  course  of  events 
and  comprehend  the  frenzy  and  cruelty  of  the 
warring  factions. 

The  first  execution  of  a  Huguenot  in  France 
took  place  at  Metz  in  1525.  John  Leclerc,  a 
wool-carder  of  the  town  of  Meaux,  seeing  a  bull 
of  indulgences  affixed  to  the  door  of  the  cathe- 
dral, tore  it  down  and  replaced  it  with  a  placard 
in  which  the  Pope  was  caricatured  and  repre- 
sented as  Antichrist.  He  was  arrested  on  the 
spot,  and,  by  decree  of  the  Parliament  of  Paris, 
whipped  publicly  three  days  in  succession,  and 
branded  on  the  forehead  by  the  hangman  in  the 
presence  of  his  mother,  who  encouraged  him  by 
shouting,  ' '  Jesus  Christ  forever. ' '  He  was  ban- 
ished to  Metz,  where,  while  working  at  his  trade 
in  July  of  the  same  year,  he  heard  that  a  solemn 
procession  was  to  take  place  the  next  day  in  the 
environs  of  the  town.  In  his  blind  and  furious 
zeal  he  left  his  work  and  broke  down  the  images, 
at  the  feet  of  which  the  Catholics  were  to  have 
burnt  incense.  Being  arrested  as  soon  as  he  re- 
turned to  town,  he  did  not  attempt  to  disavow 
the  deed,  but  gloried  in  it.  He  was  sentenced  to 
the  most  horrible  punishment,  which  was  inflicted 
in  the  following  manner  :  First,  his  right  hand 
was  cut  off ;  then  his  nose  was  torn  out ;  the  skin 
was  torn  from  his  arms  with  pincers  ;  his  nipples 
were  plucked  out  ;  his  head  was  confined  in  two 
circlets  of  red-hot  iron,  and  whilst  he  was  still 
chanting  in  a  loud  voice  this  versicle  from  the 
CXVth  Psalm, 

"Their  idols  are  silver  and  gold, 
The  work  of  men's  hands," 
his  bleeding  and  mutilated  body  was  thrown  upon 
the  blazing  fagots. 

John  Leclerc  had  a  younger  brother,  Peter,  a 
simple  wool-carder  like  himself,  who  remained  at 
Meaux,  devoted  to  the  same  faith  and  cause.  He 
became  the  first  minister  of  the  reformed  gospel 
in  France,  and  forty  or  fifty  faithful  members 
formed  the  nucleus  of  the  little  church  which 
grew  up.  The  meetings  were  held  in  the  house 
of  an  old  man  named  Stephen  Mangan,  and 
twenty  years  after  the  martyrdom  of  John  Leclerc 
the  membership  had  increased  in  spite  of  all  per- 
secutions, until  it  numbered  between  three  and 
four  hundred  persons.  On  the  8th  of  September, 
1546,  the  house  was  surrounded,  and  nearly  sixty 
men,  women  and  children  were  taken  after  a  sharp 
resistance.     Thev  were  all  sent  before  the  Parlia- 


ment of  Paris ;  fourteen  of  the  men  were  sen- 
tenced to  be  burnt  alive  in  the  market-place  at 
Meaux,  and  the  sentence  was  executed  in  the 
presence  of  their  wives  and  nearest  relatives,  who' 
were  ccmpelled  by  the  authorities  to  be  present. 

On  the  death  of  Henry  II.,  in  July,  1559,  his- 
eldest  son,  Francis,  ascended  the  throne  and 
assumed  the  title  of  Francis  II.  He  is  described 
as  a  "boy  of  sixteen,  a  poor  creature  both  in 
mind  and  body."  A  little  more  than  a  year  pre- 
vious to  the  death  of  his  father  he  had  married 
the  beautiful  but  strong-willed,  cruel  and  design- 
ing Mary  Stuart,  of  Scotland,  who  seems  to  have 
been  greatly  influenced  by  the  still  more  cruel 
and  determined  Catharine  de  Medici,  the  queen- 
mother  ;  and  during  Francis'  short  and  inglorious 
reign  of  one  and  a  half  years,  these  two  women, 
aided  and  abetted  by  the  Guises,  deluged  France 
in  blood  and  caused  the  fires  of  persecution  to 
burn  with  renewed  vigor. 

The  romance  that  has  been  woven  about  the 
life  of  Mary  Stuart,  aided  by  the  sympathy  arising 
from  her  long  imprisonment  and  treacherous  death, 
has  caused  man}-  historians  to  mistake  her  real 
character  ;  but  no  one  can  read  the  incidents  of 
her  brief  ascendency  in  France,  as  recorded  by 
M.  Guizot,  without  reaching  the  conclusion  that 
with  similar  opportunities  and  years  of  experi- 
ence, 'she  would  have  full}-  equalled  Catharine  de 
Medici  in  craft  and  cruelty. 

Deputies  from  Parliament  went  immediately, 
according  to  custom,  to  offer  their  felicitations  to 
the  new  king,  and  to  ask  him  "to  whom  it  was 
his  pleasure  that  they  should  thenceforward  apply 
for  to  learn  his  will  and  receive  his  commands." 
Francis  replied:  "With  the  approbation  of  the 
queen,  my  mother,  I  have  chosen  the  Duke  of 
Guise  and  the  Cardinal  of  Lorraine,  my  uncles, 
to  have  the  direction  of  the  state  ;  the  former  will 
take  charge  of  the  department  of  war,  the  latter 
the  administration  of  finance  and  justice  ;  "  and 
M.  Guizot  adds  :  "Up  to  the  very  last  moment, 
either  by  themselves  or  through  their  niece,  Mary- 
Stuart,  the  Guises  preserved  their  influence  over 
him."  When  we  read  of  what  followed  we  cease 
to  wonder  at  the  invectives  of  that  stern  old 
patriot  and  reformer,  John  Knox,  after  the  estab- 
lishment of  Mary's  frivolous  court  at  Edinburgh, 
or  at  the  subsequent  determined  course  of  Eliza- 
beth. 

The  young  king,  with  his  mind  groping  in  the 


588 


THE   WONDERFUL   THE   CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


darkness  of    his  weak    understanding,  was  sur- 
prised  and  horrified   at   the  cruelties  enacted  in 


DKATH   OF   HENRY   II. 

his  name  as  the  head   of  the  government.     "I 
don't  know  how  it  is,"    he  said  to  the  Guises, 


' '  but   I  hear  it  said  that  the  people  are  against 
you  only.     I  wish  you  could  be  away  from  here 

for  a  time,  that 
we  might  see 
whether  it  is  you 
or  I  that  they 
are  a  g  a  i  n  st . " 
But  the  Guises 
set  about  re- 
moving this  idea 
by  telling  him 
' '  that  neither  he 
nor  his  brothers 
would  live  one 
hour  after  their 
departure,  and 
that  the  house 
of  Bourbon  were 
only  seeking 
how  to  extermi- 
nate the  king's 
house."  The 
caresses  of  his 
young  queen 
added  weight  to 
these  assertions 
of  her  uncles, 
who  made  a 
cruel  use  of  their 
easy  victory, 
' '  For  a  whole 
month,"  accord- 
ing to  contempo- 
rary chronicles, 
' '  there  was  noth- 
ing but  hanging 
or  drowning 
folks.  The  Loire 
was  covered  with 
corpses,  strung 
six,  eight,  ten 
and  fifteen  to 
long  poles." 
"What  was 
strange  to  see," 
says  Regnier  de 
la  Planche, 
'and  had  never 
been  wont  under 
they  were  led  out 
sentence  pro- 


any    form    of    government, 

to  execution  without  having  any 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


589 


A/unced  against  them  publicly,  or  having  the 
cause  of  their  death  declared,  or  having  their 
names  mentioned.  They  of  the  Guises  reserved 
the  chief  of  them  after  dinner  to  make  sport  for 
the  ladies ;  the  two  sexes  were  ranged  at  the  win- 
dows of  the  castle,  as  if  it  were  a  question  of 
seeing  some  mummery  played.  And  what  is 
worse,  the  king  and  his  young  brothers  were 
present  at  these  spectacles,  as  if  the  desire  were  to 
'  blood '  them  ;  the  sufferers  were  pointed  out  to 
them  by  the  Cardinal  of  Lorraine  with  all  the 
signs  of  a  man  greatly  rejoiced,  and  when  the 
poor  wretches  died  with  more  than  usual  firm- 
ness, he  would  say,  '  See,  sir,  what  brazenness 
and  madness  :  the  fear  of  death  cannot  abate  their 
pride  and  felonry.  What  would  they  do,  then, 
if  they  had  you  in  their  clutches? '  " 

These  "after-dinner  drownings,"  with  the 
young  queen,  Mary  Stuart,  a  girl  of  only  seven- 
teen, as  an  interested  and  amused  spectator,  pre- 
sent her  in  a  very  different  light  from  that  in 
which  she  has  been  usually  painted,  and  they  go 
far  towards  excusing  the  perfidy  of  Elizabeth, 
even  if  she  did  bring  about  the  execution  of  her 
"fair  cousin,"  as  is  generally  believed,  by  treach- 
ery and  deceit. 

These  were  hideous  exhibitions  of  man's  de- 
pravity, and  it  costs  a  pang  to  record  them ;  but 
it  is  right  that  it  should  be  done,  for  history  is 
bound  to  do  justice  to  the  crimes  and  errors  of 
the  past,  especially  when  the  past  had  no  idea  of 
guilt  in  the  commission  of  them.  They  serve  as 
warnings  for  the  future,  and  create  a  more  kindly 
spirit  toward  one  another  in  our  desire  to  atone 
for  the  errors  of  our  ancestors. 

The  foregoing  will  afford  a  good  idea  of  how 
the  common  people  were  treated  when  they  fell 
under  the  condemnation  of  the  authorities.  Nei- 
ther mercy  nor  leniency  was  shown  to  them. 
They  were  subjected  to  a  refinement  of  barbarity 
that  would  have  made  savages  blush,  not  so  much 
from  the  cruelty  of  their  adversaries,  as  a 
sincere  desire  to  deter  others,  by  the  rigor  of  these 
punishments,  from  being  influenced  by  what 
they  religiously  believed  to  be  a  pernicious  and 
fatal  example.  Heretics  of  influence  and  standing 
were  treated  with  more  consideration  in  the  man- 
ner of  their  punishment,  but  it  was  merely  a  milder 
means  of  accomplishing  the  same  end.  We  have 
neither  the  space  nor  the  desire  to  go  through  the 
long  lists  of  horrors  that  were  inflicted  upon  the 


Huguenots  during  their  memorable  struggle  for 
religious  liberty,  but  having  quoted  characteristic 
examples  of  the  treatment  of  common  offenders, 
we  will  now  relate  an  instance  in  a  higher  grade 
of  society,  and  let  these  stand  as  representatives 
of  the  thousands  of  similar  ones  that  occurred  all 
over  France. 

Louis  de  Berquin  was  a  nobleman,  born  at 
Passy,  near  Paris,  about  1490.  Remaining  a 
bachelor,  and  possessed  of  a  patrimonial  estate 
which  yielded  him  a  modest  income  of  about  $700 
a  year,  but  which  was  amply  sufficient  for  his 
needs,  he  devoted  himself  to  study  and  the  con- 
sideration of  religious  matters  with  an  indepen- 
dence of  mind  which  in  due  time  brought  down 
upon  his  head  the  condemnation  of  the  ecclesias- 
tical authorities.  Being  high  in  favor  with  the 
king,  Francis  I.,  he  succeeded  during  the  space 
of  about  six  years  in  evading  the  vengeance  of  the 
Church,  but  his  weak  and  vacillating  royal  friend 
finally  abandoned  him  to  the  sanguinary  mercy 
of  the  ecclesiastics,  and  on  the  16th  of  April, 
1529,  he  was  brought  before  the  court  for  the  last 
time.  "Louis  Berquin,"  said  the  President  to 
him,  "  you  are  convicted  of  having  belonged  to 
the  sect  of  Luther,  and  of  having  made  wicked 
books  against  the  majesty  of  God  and  His  glorious 
mother.  In  consequence,  we  do  sentence  you  to 
make  honorable  amends,  bareheaded  and  with  a 
waxen  taper  alight  in  your  hand,  in  the  great 
court  of  the  palace,  crying  for  mercy  to  God,  the 
king  and  the  law,  for  the  offence  by  you  com- 
mitted. After  that  you  will  be  conducted  bare- 
headed and  on  foot  to  the  Place  de  Greve, 
where  your  books  will  be  burned  before  your 
eyes.  Then  you  will  be  taken  in  front  of  the 
church  of  Notre  Dame,  where  you  will  make 
honorable  amends  to  God  and  the  glorious  Vir- 
gin, His  mother.  After  which  a  hole  will  be 
pierced  in  your  tongue,  that  member  wherewith 
you  have  sinned.  Lastly,  you  will  be  placed  in 
the  prison  of  the  Bishop,  and  will  be  there  con- 
fined between  two  stone  walls  for  the  whole  of 
your  life.  And  we  forbid  that  there  ever  be 
given  you  book  to  read  or  pen  and  ink  to 
write." 

From  this  horrible  and  blasphemous  sentence 
Berquin  appealed  to  the  king,  but  the  latter  was 
afraid  any  longer  to  extend  his  protection  over 
his  old  friend  ;  and  a  few  days  later  the  court 
revised  its  sentence,   and  for  the  penalty  of  per- 


590 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


petual  imprisonment  substituted  that  of  the 
stake. 

We  borrow  the  account  of  the  execution  from  a 
letter  of  Erasmus,  written  on  the  evidence  of  an 
eye-witness  :  On  the  22d  of  April,  1529,  the  offi- 
cers of  Parliament  entered  Berquin's  gloomy 
chamber.  He  arose  quietly  and  went  with  them, 
arriving  at  the  Place  de  Greve,  where  the  stake 
was  set,  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  He 
wore  a  gown  of  velvet,  garments  of  satin  and 
damask,  and  hose  of  gold  thread.  ' '  Alas  ! ' '  said 
some  as  they  saw  him  pass,  "he  is  of  noble  lin- 
eage, a  mighty  great  scholar,  expert  in  science, 
and  subtle  withal,  and  nevertheless  he  hath  gone 
out  of  his  senses. ' '  These  expressions  reveal  the 
real  disposition  and  compassionate  feelings  of  his 
adversaries,  who  felt  that  it  was  a  painful  but 
religious  duty  to  destroy  such  a  troublesome 
and  hurtful  heretic  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the 
preservation  of  the  true  faith.  Honest  and  igno- 
rant fanaticism,  in  its  multifarious  forms,  is  the 
most  dangerous  power  the  world  has  ever  had  to 
■contend  against,  and  the  lessons  of  the  past,  if 
well  learned,  will  save  us  from  the  repetition  of 
its  follies  and  horrors  in  the  future. 

Berquin  remained  calm  and  dignified.  No 
symptom  of  agitation  appeared  either  in  his  face 
or  the  attitude  of  his  body.  He  had  the  bearing 
of  a  man  who  is  meditating  in  his  cabinet  on  the 
subject  of  his  studies,  or  in  a  temple  on  the  affairs 
of  heaven.  When  the  order  was  given  him  to 
dismount  from  the  tumbrel,  he  obeyed  cheerfully 
and  without  hesitation  ;  nevertheless  he  had  not 
about  him  any  of  that  audacity,  that  arrogance, 
which  in  the  case  of  malefactors  is  sometimes 
bred  of  their  natural  savagery.  Before  he  died  he 
made  a  speech  to  the  people  ;  but  none  could  hear 
him,  so  great  was  the  noise  which  the  soldiers 
made  according,  it  is  said,  to  the  orders  they  had 
received.  When  the  cord  which  bound  him  to 
the  post  suffocated  his  voice,  not  a  soul  in  the 
•crowd  ejaculated  the  name  of  Jesus,  whom  it  was 
customary  to  evoke  even  in  favor  of  parricides 
and  the  sacrilegious,  to  such  an  extent  had  the 
multitude  been  excited  against  him  by  those  who 
are  to  be  found  everywhere  and  who  can  do  any- 
thing with  the  feelings  of  the  simple  and  ignorant. 
The  smoke  and  flames  soon  produced  suffocation, 
and  one  more  pure  spirit  entered  the  realms  where 
persecution  ceases.  "I  never  saw  any  one  die 
more   Christianly,"   exclaimed    the  grand   peni- 


tentiary of  Paris,  as  he  withdrew  from  the  stiU 
smoking  stake.  But  the  majority  of  the  crowd 
cried  out,  ' '  He  was  a  heretic. ' '  Others  said, 
"God  is  the  only  just  Judge,  and  happy  is  the 
man  whom  He  absolves."  Some  whispered 
below  their  breath,  "It  is  only  through  the 
cross  that  Christ  will  triumph  in  the  kingdom 
of  the  Gauls."  And  their  prediction  was  the 
true  one. 

The  martyrdom  of  Berquin  put  a  stop  to  the 
attempt  at  quasi-tolerance  in  favor  of  aristocratic 
and  learned  reformers  which  Francis  I.  had 
essayed  to  practise,  and  persecution  thence- 
forward followed  its  natural  course  of  riot  and 
civil  war,  embracing  the  incidents  already  men- 
tioned, spreading  devastation  and  slaughter  over 
the  green  fields  of  France,  and  shaking  the  very 
foundations  of  the  kingdom  for  a  period  of  sixty- 
nine  years,  until  the  victory  of  Henry  of  Navarre, 
at  Ivry,  on  the  14th  of  March,  1590,  gave  him  the 
power,  eight  years  later,  to  issue  the  famous 
edict  of  Nantes,  guaranteeing  religious  toleration 
within  the  borders  of  France. 

The    Massacre  of   St.  Bartholomew. 

Meanwhile  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew 
had  taken  place  in  1572,  during  the  reign  of 
Charles  IX.,  a  prince  of  but  little  greater  mental 
vigor  than  his  brother,  Francis  II.,  and  who  seems 
never  to  have  been  quite  able  to  decide  for  himself 
between  Catholicism  and  Protestantism,  but  who 
finally  yielded  to  the  strong  will  of  his  mother, 
and  allowed  events  to  take  their  own  course.  St. 
Bartholomew  was  a  political,  rather  than  a  re- 
ligious outbreak,  and  was  a  result  of  the  bitter 
rivalries  and  jealousies  existing  between  the 
Guises,  who  were  the  head  and  leaders  of  the 
"  Holy  Alliance  "  or  Catholic  party,  and  Admiral 
Coligny,  the  leader  of  the  Huguenots.  It  is  so 
regarded  by  M.  Guizot,  a  painstaking  and  un- 
prejudiced Protestant  historian,  who  profoundly 
studied  the  subject.  But  the  infamous  instiga- 
tors of  this  horrible  butchery  made  use  of  the 
religious  frenzy  and  inflamed  prejudices  of  the 
people  as  a  means  of  carrying  out  their  designs, 
and  for  this  reason  the  obloquy  attaching  to  it 
has  been  unjustly  charged  against  the  Catholic 
Church. 

On  the  22d  of  August,  1572,  the  day  before  the 
massacre,  while  Coligny  was  returning  on  foot 
from  the  palace  to  his  home,  he  was  fired  upon 
from  the  window  of  a  house  by  an  assassin  in  the 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


591 


employ  of  the  Guises,  and  two  fingers  of  his  right 
hand  were  shot  away  and  a  ball  lodged  in  his  left 
arm.  The  assassin  escaped,  and  Coligny  pro- 
ceeded on  his  way  home,  where,  after  his  wounds 
were  dressed,  he  sought  and  obtained  an  inter- 
view with  the  king.  About  2  p.  m.  the  latter 
called,  accom- 
panied by  his 
mother  and  two 
younger  broth- 
ers, the  Dukes 
•of  Anjou  and 
Aleneon,  the 
former  of  whom 
s  u  b  s  e  q  u  ently 
became  Henry 
III. ,  of  France. 
The  queen- 
mother  and  her 
younger  sons 
were  very  un- 
popular with 
the  Huguenots, 
many  of  whom 
were  present  at 
the  time,  and 
they  did  not 
hesitate  to  de- 
clare, by  means 
■of  scowls  and 
nods,  that  they 
believed  them 
guilty  of  the 
attempted  mur- 
der of  their 
idolized  leader. 
Catharine  and 
the  young 
dukes  soon  be- 
c  a  m  e  b  a  d  1  y 
frightened  at 
the  ominous  ap- 
pearance of 
their  surround- 
i  n  g  s  ,      and 


cause  them  to  be  severely  punished  for  their  out- 
rageous crime. 

On  the  following  day,  Saturday,  August  23, 
1572,  in  the  afternoon,  the  queen-mother,  the 
Duke  of  Anjou  and  several  of  the  Catholic  lead- 
ers held  a  secret  conference  with  the  king  in  his 


HENRY,    OF   NAVARRE,    AT  THE   BATTLE   OF    IVRY. 


availed  themselves  of  the  first  opportunity  to  make 
a  hast\^  departure.  The  king  remained  sometime 
in  friendly  conversation  with  Coligny,  during 
which  he  expressed  the  bitterest  resentment 
.against  the  Guises,  and  declared  that  he  would 


closet,  during  which  they  represented  to  him  that 
the  Huguenots  had  seized  upon  this  occasion  for 
taking  up  arms  against  him  ;  that  they  had  sent 
dispatches  to  Germany  to  procure  a  levy  of  ten 
thousand  reiters  (cavalry  soldiers),   and    to   the 


592 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE  CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


Swiss  cantons  for  another  levy  of  ten  thousand 
foot.  Catharine  also  declared  vehemently  that 
the  French  captains  in  the  interests  of  the  Hugue- 
nots, had  most  of  them  left  Paris  to  raise  levies 
in  the  kingdom,  while  the  Catholics,  disgusted 
with  so  long  a  war  and  harassed  with  so  many 
kinds  of  calamities,  had  decided  to  form  a  league 
and  elect  a  Captain-General  for  the  purpose  of 
waging  effectual  war  against  the  heretics.  The 
whole  of  France  would  thus  be  armed  and  di- 
vided into  two  great  contending  parties,  between 
which  the  king  would  remain  isolated  and  with- 
out any  command  or  authority.  "All  that  is 
necessary,"  said  Catherine,  "is  to  kill  the  ad- 
miral, the  head  and  front  of  all  the  civil  wars  ; 
the  design  and  enterprise  of  the  Huguenots  will 
die  with  him,  and  the  Catholics,  satisfied  with 
the  sacrifice  of  two  or  three  men,  wilf  remain 
forever  in  obedience  to  you."  The  Duke  of 
Anjou  left  a  written  history  of  this  celebrated 
meeting,  and  after  the  address  of  the  queen- 
mother,  he  adds:  "At  the  beginning  the  king 
would  not  by  any  means  consent  to  have  the 
admiral  touched  ;  feeling,  however,  some  fear  of 
the  danger  which  we  had  so  well  depicted  and 
represented  to  him,  he  desired  that,  in  a  case  of 
such  importance,  every  one  should  at  once  state 
his  opinion. ' '  When  each  of  those  present  had 
spoken,  the  king  appeared  still  undecided. 

The  secret  conference  then  dissolved,  but  the 
matter  had  become  a  family  affair,  in  which  the 
lives  of  Catharine  and  her  sons  were  at  stake, 
and  she  was  too  determined  a  woman  to  let  it 
drop  after  having  gone  so  far.  In  the  evening, 
about  nine  or  ten  o'clock,  says  Marguerite  of 
Valois,  the  bride  of  Henry  of  Navarre  and 
sister  of  the  king,  "she  sent  Marshal  de  Retz 
privately  to  him,  who  represented  that,  as  his 
faithful  servant,  he  could  not  conceal  from  him 
the  danger  he  was  in  if  he  were  to  abide  by  his 
resolution  to  do  justice  on  M.  de  Guise,  because 
it  was  necessary  that  he  should  know  that  the 
attack  upon  the  admiral  was  not  M.  de  Guise's 
doing  alone,  but  that  my  brother  Henry,  after- 
ward king  of  France,  and  the  queen,  my  mother, 
hai  been  concerned  in  it,  which  M.  de  Guise  and 
his  friends  would  not  fail  to  reveal,  and  which 
would  place  his  Majestj'  in  a  position  of  great 
danger  and  embarrassment."  Toward  midnight 
Catharine  again  went  down  to  the  king,  followed 
by  her  son    Henry,   and  four  other  councillors. 


They  found  him  more  put  out  than  ever.  ' '  The 
Guises, ' '  said  the  queen-mother,  ' '  will  denounce 
you,  together  with  me  and  your  brother ;  the 
Huguenots  will  believe  that  you  were  in  concert 
with  the  party,  and  they  will  take  the  whole  royal 
family  to  task.  War  is  inevitable.  Better  win  a 
battle  in  Paris,  where  we  hold  all  the  chiefs  in 
our  clutches,  than  put  it  to  hazard  in  the  field." 
' '  After  a  struggle  of  an  hour  and  a  half, ' '  con- 
tinues Marguerite  of  Valois,  "the  king,  in  a  vio- 
lent state  of  agitation,  still  hesitated,  when  the 
queen-mother,  fearing  lest,  if  there  were  further 
delay,  all  would  be  discovered,  said  to  him,  '  Per- 
mit me  and  your  brother,  sir,  to  retire  to  some 
other  part  of  the  kingdom.'  Charles  rose  from 
his  seat :  '  By  God's  death,'  said  he,  'since  you 
think  proper  to  kill  the  admiral,  I  consent ;  but 
all  the  Huguenots  in  Paris  as  well,  in  order  that 
there  remain  not  one  to  reproach  me  afterward. 
Give  the  orders  at  once. ' ' '  And  he  went  back 
into  his  room. 

The  queen-mother,  anxious  to  profit  by  the 
permission  thus  wrung  from  the  weak,  vain  and 
cowardly  king  in  a  moment  of  heat  and  passion, 
gave  orders  on  the  instant  for  the  signal  of 
slaughter,  which,  according  to  previous  arrange- 
ment, was  not  to  have  been  given  until  an  hour 
before  daybreak.  But  she  was  afraid  the  king 
might  change  his  mind,  as  he  actually  did  a  few 
hours  later,  and  she,  therefore,  hastened  to  set  the 
machinery  of  massacre  in  motion  before  he  could 
have  time  to  reflect. 

The  projectors  of  the  outrage  had  hastily  bur 
carefully  prepared  for  its  execution,  apportioning 
out  among  themselves  and  their  agents  the  dil- 
ferent  quarters  of  the  city.  The  Guises  had  re- 
served to  themselves  a  special  vengeance,  in  the 
slaughter  of  Coligny,  and  as  soon  as  the  signal 
was  given  they  hastened  to  his  house  at  the  head 
of  a  party  of  their  followers.  Awakened  by  the 
noise  around  the  house  and  the  firing  of  arque- 
buse  shots  in  his  court-yard,  Coligny  very  well 
understood  what  was  going  to  happen.  Hastily 
springing  out  of  bed  and  putting  on  his  dressing- 
gown,  he  stood  leaning  against  the  wall,  as  he 
said  to  a  Protestant  clergyman  named  Merlin, 
who  was  sitting  up  with  him,  "M.  Merlin,  say 
me  a  prayer  ;  I  commit  my  soul  to  my  Saviour." 
At  this  moment  one  of  his  officers  rushed  into  the 
room  and  exclaimed,  "  My  lord,  it  is  God  calling 
us !  "      "I  have  long;  been  readv  to  die,"  said  the 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


593 


admiral,  calmly,  "  but  you,  my  friends,  save  your- 
selves if  it  is  still  possible."  All  ran  upstairs, 
and  most  of  them  escaped  by  the  roof,  except  a 
German  ser- 
vant, who  re- 
mained with  his 
master,  as  little 
concerned  as  if 
nothing  unusual 
were  taking 
place.  Two 
men,  inferior 
servants  of  the 
Guises,  entered 
first.  One  of 
them,  named 
Behme,  came 
forward,  saying, 
"Art  thou  not 
the  admiral?  " 
' '  Young  man, ' ' 
said  C  o  1  i  g  n  y , 
"  thou  comest 
against  a 
wounded  and 
an  aged  man. 
Thou' it  not 
shorten  my  life 
much."  Behme 
instantly 
plunged  into  his 
stomach  a  huge 
pointed  boar- 
spear,  which  he 
carried  in  his 
hand,  and  then 
hastily  with- 
drawing it, 
struck  him  over 
the  head  with 
the  weapon. 
Coligny  fell, 
crying  out  con- 
temptuously, 
"If  it  were  but 
a  man  !  "  Others 
came  in  and 
struck  him  as 
he  lay  upon  the 

floor      At  this  moment  the  Duke  of  Guise  shouted 
from  the  court-yard,  •'Behme,  hast  done?"    '"Tis 
38 


all  over,  my  lord,"  was  the  answer,  and  the  mur- 
derers threw  the  body  out  of  the  window,  where 
it   remained   for  an   instant    upon  the  sill,  either 


DEATH    OF    COLIGNY. 

accidentally  or  voluntarily,  as  of  to  defend  a  last 
remnant   of    life.       Then  it  fell  heavily   to   the 


594 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


ground.  The  two  infamous  brothers  who  were 
waiting  for  it  turned  over  the  corpse,  wiped  the 
blood  from  the  face,  and  said,  "Faith,  'tis  he, 
sure  enough."  Some  have  said  that  the  duke 
gave  it  a  kick  in  the  face.  A  servant  cut  off  the 
head  and  took  it  to  the  queen-mother,  the  king, 
and  the  Duke  of  Anjou,  who  were  waiting  in  the 
palace  of  the  Louvre. 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  foregoing  account, 
which  we  have  adapted  from  the  history  of  M. 
Guizot,  and  which  is  no  doubt  a  correct  state- 
ment ot  the  affair,  that  Catherine  de  Medici  and 
her  son,  the  Duke  of  Anjou,  afterwards  Henry 
III.,  were  the  real  projectors  of  the  Massacre  of 
St.  Bartholomew,  which  they  brought  about  from 
motives  of  cowardice,  love  of  power,  and  jealousy 
of  Coligny. 

As  usual  with  murderers  and  assassins,  they 
were  seized  with  fright  at  the  first  sound  of  their 
own  crime.  We  will  let  the  Duke  of  Anjou  tell 
the  story  in  his  own  language:  "  After  but  two 
hours'  rest  during  the  night,  just  as  the  day  was 
beginning  to  break,  the  king,  the  queen,  my 
mother,  and  I,  went  to  the  frontal  of  the  Louvre, 
adjoining  the  tennis-court,  into  a  room  which 
looks  upon  the  area  of  the  stable-yard,  to  see  the 
commencement  of  the  work.  "We  had  not  been 
there  long  when,  as  we  were  weighing  the  issues 
and  the  consequences  of  so  great  an  enterprise,  on 
which,  sooth  to  say,  we  had  up  to  that  time 
scarcely  bestowed  a  thought,  we  heard  a  pistol- 
shot  fired.  I  could  not  say  in  what  spot,  or 
whether  it  knocked  over  anybody,  but  well  know 
that  sound  wounded  all  three  of  us  so  deeply  in 
spirit  that  it  knocked  over  our  senses  and  judg- 
ment, stricken  with  terror  and  apprehension  at 
the  great  troubles  which  were  then  about  to  set 
in.  To  prevent  them,  we  sent  a  gentleman  at 
once  and  with  all  haste  to  M.  de  Guise,  to  tell  him 
and  command  him  expressly  from  us  to  retire  into 
his  quarters  and  to  be  careful  to  take  no  steps  against 
the  admiral,  this  single  command  putting  a  stop 
to  even-thing  else,  because  it  had  been  determined 
that  in  no  spot  in  the  city  should  any  steps  be 
taken  until,  as  a  preliminary,  the  admiral  had 
been  killed.  But  soon  afterwards  the  gentleman 
returning  told  us  that  M.  de  Guise  had  answered 
him  that  the  command  came  too  late,  that  the 
admiral  was  dead,  and  the  work  was  begun 
throughout  the  rest  of  the  city.  So  we  went  back 
to  our  original  determination  and  let  ourselves 


follow  the   thread   of  the   course   of    the   enter- 
prise. ' ' 

This  picture  of  these  three  infamous  persons, 
these  vile  birds  of  ill  omen,  these  wretches  in 
human  shape,  listening  to  the  sounds  of  cruelty 
and  murder  which  the)-  had  set  in  motion,  and  at 
the  same  time  trembling  and  cringing  with  base 
and  ignoble  cowardice,  is  perhaps  unsurpassed  in 
the  literature  of  the  world. 

Once  let  loose  upon  the  St.  Bartholomew,  the 
Parisian  populace  was  eager  indeed,  but  not  alone 
in  its  eagerness  for  the  work  of  massacre  ;  the 
gentlemen  of  the  court  took  part  in  it  passion- 
ately, from  a  spirit  of  vengeance,  from  religious 
hatred,  from  the  effects  of  smelling  blood,  and 
from  covetousness  at  the  prospects  of  confiscations 
at  hand.  The  actual  number  slain  will  never  be 
known.  There  is  in  the  account  books  of  the 
cemetery  of  the  Innocents  at  Paris  a  grim  and 
ghastly  entry  of  payment  to  the  grave-diggers  for 
interring  noo  dead  bodies  that  had  been  stranded 
at  the  turns  of  the  Seine  ;  while  a  well-known 
author  speaks  of  4000  corpses  that  Charles  IX. 
might  have  seen  floating  down  the  river  ;  and  the 
corpses  were  not  all  thrown  into  the  river.  The 
number  of  persons  butchered  throughout  France 
has  been  estimated  as  high  as  100,000,  and  as 
low  as  10,000.  The  real  number  was  probably 
between  50,000  and  75,000. 

All  Europe,  Catholic  as  well  as  Protestant, 
cried  out  with  horror  at  so  terrible  a  massacre, 
while  the  infamous  authors  of  it  did  the  best  they 
could  to  excuse  themselves  ;  but  history  has  set 
the  indelible  mark  of  infamy  upon  them.  Charles 
meanly  attempted  to  throw  the  blame  upon  his 
late  friend  Coligny  and  the  Guises.  On  the  first 
da}-  of  the  massacre,  about  mid-da}-,  his  cowardly 
fears  being  fully  aroused,  he  ordered  his  officers 
to  "  get  on  horseback,  take  with  them  all  the 
forces  in  the  city,  and  keep  their  eyes  open  day 
and  night  to  put  a  stop  to  the  said  murder,  pil- 
lage and  sedition  arising  because  of  the  rivalry 
between  the  houses  of  Guise  and  Chatillon,  and 
because  they  of  Guise  had  been  threatened  by  the 
admiral's  friends."  On  the'25th,  two  days  after 
the  massacre,  he  wrote  to  all  his  agents  at  home 
and  abroad,  affirming  that  "what  had  happened 
at  Paris  had  been  done  solely  to  prevent  the  exe- 
cution of  an  accursed  conspiracy  which  the  admiral 
and  his  allies  had  concocted  against  him,  his 
mother  and  his  brothers. ' ' 


• 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


595 


But  the  avenging  ghosts  of  his  murdered  sub- 
jects rose  up  before  his  disordered  vision  and 
would  not  let  him  rest.  "His  looks,"  wrote  the 
Venetian  ambassador,  a  short  time  after  the  mas- 
sacre, ' '  have  become  melancholy  and  sombre  ;  in 
his  conversation  and  audiences  he  does  not  look 
the  speaker  in  the  face  ;  he  droops  his  head,  closes 
his  eyes,  opens  them  all  at  once,  and  as  if  he 
found  the  movement  painful,  closes  them  again 
with  no  less  suddenness.  It  is  feared  that  the 
demon  of  vengeance  has  possessed  him.  To  tire 
himself  at  any  price  is  his  object.  He  remains  on 
horseback  for  twelve  or  fourteen  consecutive  hours  ; 
and  so  he  goes  hunting  and  coursing  through  the 
woods  the  same  animal,  the  stag,  for  two  or  three 
days,  never  stopping  to  eat.  and  never  resting  but 
an  instant  during  the  night."  Two  years  after 
the  massacre  he  was  attacked  by  an  inflammatory 
malady  which  brought  on  a  violent  hemorrhage. 
During  his  troubled  sleep  he  was  visited  by  hor- 
rible dreams  and  bloody  visions  of  St.  Bartholo- 
mew. He  no  longer  retained  in  his  room  anybody 
but  two  of  his  servants  and  his  nurse,  "  of  whom 
he  was  very  fond,  although  she  was  a  Huguenot. 
When  she  had  lain  down  upon  a  chest  and  was 
just  beginning  to  doze,  hearing  the  king  moan- 
ing, weeping  and  sighing,  she  went  full  gently 
up  to  the  bed:  'Ah!  nurse,  nurse,'  said  he, 
'  what  bloodshed  and  what  murder  !  Ah  !  what 
evil  counsel  have  I  followed  !  Oh  !  my  God,  for- 
give me  then  arrd  have  mercy  upon  me,  if  it  may 
please  Thee.  I  know  not  what  hath  come  to  me, 
so  bewildered  and  agitated  do  they  make  me. 
What  will  be  the  end  of  it  all  ?  What  shall  I  do  ? 
I  am  lost ;  I  see  it  well  ! '  "  And  thus  he  con- 
tinued to  rave  until  death  released  his  troubled 
soul.  It  is  said  that  before  his  death  the  blood 
oozed  from  his  body  through  the  pores  of  the 
skin,  and  he  died  in  the  most  horrible  anguish 
and  terror. 

Henry  III.  succeeded  his  brother  as  king  of 
France,  and  after  a  short  and  troubled  reign,  full 
of  bloodshed  and  unrest,  he  was  murdered  by  a 
monk,  who  obtained  a  private  audience  under  the 
pretence  of  delivering  a  secret  dispatch.  The 
monk,  seeing  the  king's  attention  taken  up  with 
reading,  drew  a  knife  from  his  sleeve  and  drove  it 
into  Henry's  abdomen,  below  the  navel,  so  deep 
that  he  could  not  withdraw  it,  and  left  it  sticking 
in  the  wound.  But  the  king,  with  great  exertion, 
drew  it  out,  and  struck  the  monk  a  blow  with  the 


point  of  it  on  his  left  eyebrow,  crying  out,  ' '  Ah  ! 
wicked  monk!  he  has  killed  me;  kill  him!" 
The  guards  who  were  near,  hearing  the  cry,  ran 
quickly  up,  and  instantly  massacred  the  assassin, 
who  stretched  out  his  arms  against  the  wall,  in 
imitation  of  the  crucifix,  whilst  the  blows  were 
dealt  him.  Henry  died  that  night  in  great 
agony. 

Catherine  de  Medici,  the  unnatural  mother,  the 
inhuman  woman,  the  prime  instigator  of  St.  Bar- 
tholomew, died  in  neglect  and  obscurity  a  few 
months  after  the  death  of  her  son  Henry. 

And  thus  perished  the  three  persons  who  were 
responsible  for  the  most  celebrated  massacre  that 
has  stained  the  pages  of  history  ! 


SOME  CURIOUS  HISTORICAL  FACTS. 
Old  Laws  Regarding  Crippled  and  Deformed  Rulers. 

THERE  were  laws  among  many  of  the  ancient 
nations  prohibiting  the  succession  of  a 
crippled  or  deformed  king  to  the  throne ;  but  by 
general  consent  such  laws  have  long  since  fallen 
into  abeyance.  The  idea  is,  by  some,  traced  to 
the  Jewish  law,  forbidding  a  person  having  a 
physical  blemish  of  any  description  to  officiate  at 
the  altar,  but  it  is  more  likely  due  to  the  respect 
entertained  by  all  savage  or  half-civilized  peoples 
for  manly  strength,  and  the  feeling  that  a  de- 
formed man  is  not  a  proper  person  to  be  a  leader 
of  soldiers.  It  was  therefore  common  among 
conquerors,  when  kings  were  made  captives,  to 
put  out  their  eyes,  cut  off  their  thumbs,  or  in 
some  other  way  to  mutilate  the  body  in  order 
that  they  would  never  again  be  able  to  ascend  the 
throne.  Several  instances  of  this  are  recorded  in 
the  Bible,  as  when  the  eyes  of  Zedekiah  were  put 
out,  a  piece  of  cruelty  that  in  later  times  was  re 
peated  in  Portugal,  when  several  deposed  kings 
were  thus  rendered  sightless  to  take  from  them 
all  hope  of  successful  rebellion.  To  such  an 
extent  was  the  notion  carried  that  a  Welsh  prince 
was  once  set  aside  from  the  succession  because  his 
nose  had  been  broken,  and  a  Spanish  prince  be- 
cause he  stammered. 

The  renowned  Sapor,  of  Persia,  was  called 
' '  Lord  of  the  shoulders, ' '  on  account  of  a  pecu- 
liarity in  his  method  of  mutilating  his  prisoners. 
He  first  caused  a  hole  to  be  pierced  in  their 
shoulders,  through  which  a  strong  cord  was 
passed,  by  means  of  which  their  shoulders  were 
dislocated  and  they  were  rendered  helpless  crip- 


596 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


pies  for  the  remainder  of  their  lives.    The  ancient 
Jews  were  noted  for  their  cruelty  to  their  prisoners, 


God.     It  was    their  custom  to  put  out  the  eyes 
of  their  prisoners,  to  saw  their  bodies  asunder,  to 

drive  over  them 
with  s  c  y  t  h  e  d 
chariots  or  sharp- 
toothed  harrows, 
to  mutilate  them, 
and  to  inflict 
other  cruel  and 
barbarous  punish- 
ments upon  them. 
Their  fanatical 
and  fierce  cruelty 
to  their  enemies 
was  the  principal 
cause  of  their  own 
i  1 1  -  tr  e  a  t  m  e  n  t 
when  they  them- 
selves fell  victims 
to  the  vicissitudes 
of  war. 


ANCIENT    PERSIAN   WARRIORS. 


a   singular 
claimed  to 


fact   when   we    consider    that    they 
be  the  special  and  peculiar  people  of 


Historic  Stumbles. 
Stumbling  a  t 
the  outset  of  any 
important  enter- 
prise is  regarded 
as  unlucky,  for 
the  reason  that 
it  is  a  mistake  or 
accident  at  the 
very  inception, 
and  few  people 
have  any  confi- 
dence in  the  well- 
known  adage, 
"A  bad  begin- 
ning makes  a 
good  ending." 
Several  historic 
stumbles  are  re- 
corded. Julius 
Caesar  stumbled 
when  landing  on 
the  African  coast ; 
so  did  Scipio  Af- 
ricanus ;  and  each 
had  the  tact  to 
turn  the  accident 
to  his  own  account  by  pretending  that  he  fell 
on  purpose,    and  by  seizing   the  earth  with  his 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


597 


hands  claimed  thus  to  take  more  secure  pos- 
session. Napoleon  stumbled  when  landing  in 
Egypt,  and  the  fact  was  remembered  after  the 
unlucky  termination  of  that  ill-advised  enter- 
prise ;  but  William  I.  of  England  also  stumbled 
when  landing  at  Bulverhythe,  and  grasping  a 
stone  in  one  hand  and  a  fistful  of  grass  in  the 
other,  shouted,    ' '  Thus  do  I  seize  this  land. ' ' 


soldiers,  and  the  "Step- father  of  His  Country' 
by  political  opponents  during  his  second  term. 


Origin  of  the  Term   "Pin-Money." 

Pins  were  introduced  into  England  by  Catha- 
rine, wife  of  Henry  VIII.,  and,  as  then  made, 
were  ornaments  rather  than  articles  of  utility. 
They  were  of  brass,  ivory,  silver  or  gold,  were 
placed  in  the  hair  or  on  various  parts  of  the  cloth- 
ing as  articles  of  jewelry,  and  sometimes  weighed 
eight  or  ten  ounces.  The  Spanish  manufacturers 
were  allowed  to  sell  them  only  during  the  Christ- 
mas holidays,  and  it  became  the  fashion  for  a 
gentleman,  at  holiday  seasons,  to  present  the 
ladies  of  his  family  with  money  to  buy  pins.  On 
account  of  their  great  cost,  only  the  wealthy 
could  at  first  afford  to  buy  them  ;  and  even  after 
pins  had  become  common  and  cheap,  the  prac- 
tice of  giving  the  money  continued,  and  hence 
the  name. 


Application  of  the  Title,  "  Father  of  His  Country." 

The  title,  ' '  Father  of  His  Country, ' '  was  first 
applied,  according  to  one  historian,  to  Cincin- 
riatus,  but  there  is  much  in  the  story  altogether 
mythical  and  uncertain.  It  was  undoubtedly  ap- 
plied to  Cicero,  who  lived  from  B.  C.  106  to  43, 
and  broke  up  the  Cataline  conspiracy.  It  was 
given  to  Julius  Caesar  after  the  Spanish  rebellion, 
to  Augustus,  to  Cosmo  de  Medici,  Andrea  Doria 
and  other -distinguished  men  of  different  nations. 
Louis  XVI.,  Henry  IV.  and  Louis  XVIII.,  of 
France,  were  styled  "Father  of  the  People,"  as 
also  was  Christian  III.,  of  Denmark.  The  title, 
"Father  of  His  Country,"  was  not  the  only  one 
bestowed  on  Washington.  He  was  styled  the 
"American  Fabius,"  from  his  cautious  policy, 
and  from  the  fact  that  he  never  won  a  battle,  but 
wore  out  the  enemj-  by  harassing  campaigns. 
Lord  Byron,  in  his  ode  to  Napoleon,  styles  Wash- 
ington ' '  The  Cincinnatus  of  the  West. ' '  Vittorio 
Alfieri,  the  Italian  dramatist,  called  him  the 
"Deliverer  of  America."  He  was  styled  the 
"  Saviour  of  His  Country  "  by  the  newspapers  of 
his  own  day.    "  Lovely  Georgius"  by  the  British 


Modern. 


What  Were  the  "  Middle  Ages  "  ? 

History  is  generally  divided  into  three  eras  or 
periods — the  Ancient,  Mediaeval  (Middle  Ages) 
and  Modern.  In  order  that  the  boundary  lines 
may  strike  the  eye,  we  will  present  the  matter  in 
the  form  of  a  chart,  as  follows : 

C     From   the  beginning  of  the  ~)  Dawn   of 
Ancient.      J  human  period  to  the  downfall  of  I    time  to 
(^  the  Roman  Empire  in  the  West,  j  A.  D.  476. 
C     From  the  fall  of  Rome  to  the  ~)        476 
Mediaaval  •  -j  discovery  of  America    by    Co-  I         to 
(^  lumbus.  J       1492. 

From  the  discovery  of  Ameri-  "1        1492 
ca  to  the  present  time.  j    onward. 

This  is  the  accepted  form  of  division.  A  few 
historians,  however,  think  that  the  great  migra- 
tion of  the  Teutonic  tribes,  which  began  about 
A.  D.  375,  or  100  years  before  the  fall  of  Rome, 
should  mark  the  close  of  the  ancient  and  the 
opening  of  the  mediaeval  period.  There  are  other 
authorities  who  prefer  to  put  the  end  of  the 
mediaeval  and  the  beginning  of  the  modern  era 
at  the  capture  of  Constantinople  by  the  Turks  in 
1453,  while  there  are  still  others  who  mark  the 
boundary  line  between  the  mediaeval  and  modern 
eras  at  the  disco  very  of  printing  by  movable 
types,  which  occurred  between  1423  and  1436. 


Paternoster  Row. 

This  is  the  name  of  a  street  in  London  almost 
under  the  shadow  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral.  It  is 
so  called,  according  to  antiquarians,  from  the  fact 
that  400  or  500  years  ago  the  makers  of  rosaries 
or  pater  nosters  lived  and  had  their  shops  there. 
As  education  became  general,  religious  books 
were  added  to  the  stock-in-trade,  and  in  course 
of  time  the  entire  street  was  given  up  to  pub- 
lishers' and  stationers'  establishments.  No 
vehicles  were  formerly  allowed  to  enter  the  street, 
which,  although  in  the  midst  of  a  great  metro- 
polis, was  thus  kept  quiet,  and  even  at  present  it 
is  not  a  general  thoroughfare.  Many  of  the 
essayists  and  poets  of  a  century  ago  mention  it, 
and  not  always  in  the  most  reverential  terms. 
As  Paternoster  Row  was  the  publication  centre, 
so  Grub  Street,  now  Milton  Street,  so  called  not 
from  the  poet,  but  from  a  wealthy  builder,  was 
the  headquarters  of  the  writing  fraternity.      It 


598 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


was  filled  with  houses  of  mean  aspect  and  poor 
interior,  hence  the  name  came  to  be  applied  to 
trashj-  and  worthless  productions. 


Talented  Fathers  and  Degenerate  Sons. 
It  has  often  been  noted  that  the  sons  of  remark- 
able men  have  generally  been  of  humble  abilities, 
and  numbers  of  instances  might  be  cited  from 
history  to  prove  the  truth  of  the  statement. 
Henry  II.,  of  England,  was  an  able  man — his  son 
John  was  quite  the  contrary  ;  Edward  II.,  a  weak 
prince,  was  son  of  the  warlike  and  successful 
Edward  I.  ;  Richard  II.  was  the  son  of  the  famous 
Black  Prince.  In  French  history,  the  effeminate 
Louis  VIII.  was  the  son  of  Philippe  Auguste  ; 
Charles  the  Fool  was  son  of  Charles  the  Wise. 
In  Germain-,  Henry  VI.  was  the  son  of  the  great 
Barbarossa.  The  sons  of  the  philosophers  were 
almost  uniformly  obscure  men  ;  the  sons  of  the 
poets  are  never  heard  of.  Napoleon's  son  was 
crushed  by  the  weight  of  his  father's  fame. 
Lord  Chesterfield  wrote  his  inimitable  letters  to  a 
youth  who  is  not  known  outside  of  the  pages  of 
that  volume,  and  so  on  throughout  history.  On 
the  contrary,  a  few  conspicuous  examples  have 
occurred  of  a  talented  son  equalling  or  exceeding 
the  achievements  of  his  father.  Alexander  the 
Great  was  son  of  Philip  the  Great ;  Charlemagne 
was  son  of  Pepin  ;  and  the  Pitts,  father  and  son, 
were  equally  noted  in  British  annals.  In  America 
the  dictum  of  Lord  Bacon,  that  "great  men  have 
no  continuance,"  is  verified  in  the  cases  of  nearly 
all  our  noted  statesmen.  Washington  had  no 
children,  and,  so  far  as  known,  there  is,  with  the 
exception  of  the  Adams  family,  no  lineal  descen- 
dant of  any  of  his  contemporaries  or  of  their  great 
successors,  such  as  Webster,  Clay,  Calhoun  and 
Benton,  now  in  public  life. 


Soap  Among  the  Ancients. 
The  ancients  had  soap  made  from  the  lye  of 
ashes,  and  Pliny  says  the  German  soap  was  con- 
sidered the  best.  A  few  years  ago,  a  soap  boiler's 
shop  was  discovered  in  Pompeii,  with  some  of  the 
soap,  which,  even  after  1800  years'  burial,  had 
not  lost  all  its  virtue.  The  price  of  soap  in 
Pliny's  time  was,  however,  very  high,  and  the 
Romans  had  a  substitute  for  it  in  a  certain  root 
brought  from  Africa,  which  made  lather.  A  kind 
of  glutinous  earth  was  used   for  cleansing  pur- 


poses, and  fine  sand  rubbed  on  the  body  with  the 
hand  was  also  employed.  Soap  is  twice  men- 
tioned in  the  Bible,  the  first  time  by  Jeremiah, 
600  B.  C,  who  says:  "Though  thou  wash  thee 
with  nitre  and  take  thee  much  soap,  yet  thy  ini- 
quity is  marked  before  me,  saith  the  Lord  God." 
Malachi,  400  B.  C,  speaks  of  "fuller's  soap," 
both  allusions  showing  the  great  antiquity  of  the 
article. 


The  Don  Quixote  of  the  North. 
Charles  XII.,  of  Sweden,  was  so  called  on 
account  of  his  headstrong,  impetuous  valor, 
which  was  seldom  restrained,  either  by  consider- 
ations of  prudence  or  common  sense.  He  was 
constantly  engaged  in  some  crack-brained  enter- 
prise, and  willing  to  venture  on  the  most  daring 
and  foolhardy  expeditions.  At  Narva,  with  Sooo 
Swedes,  he  stormed  an  intrenched  Russian  camp 
where  50,000  men  awaited  his  onset.  His  rash- 
ness led  to  his  defeat  at  Pultowa,  and  finally  to 
the  downfall  of  Swedish  power,  for  after  his  death 
that  kingdom,  exhausted  by  his  wars,  was  no 
longer  numbered  among  the  principal  nations  of 
Europe. 


Meaning  of  "  An  Iota." 

An  iota  is  the  smallest  letter  of  the  Greek 
alphabet,  corresponding  favorably  with  our  letter 
i.  It  was  derived  from  the  Hebrew  jod  and  the 
Syriacjudk,  and  employed  metaphorically  to  ex- 
press the  merest  trifle.  The  expression,  "not  a 
single  iota,"  is  one  of  the  several  metaphors 
which  have  been  used  for  ages,  and,  as  above 
mentioned,  was  derived  from  the  alphabet,  as 
when  alpha  and  omega,  the  first  and  last  letters 
of  the  Greeks,  are  employed  to  express  the  be- 
ginning and  the  end,  as  in  Rev.  i.  2,  where  we 
read  :  "I  am  Alpha  and  Omega,  the  first  and  the 
last."  And,  again,  as  "One  jot  (jod)  or  one 
tittle  (point  or  dot )  shall  in  no  wise  pass  from  the 
law." 

Some  curious  examples  of  the  use  of  letters  as 
metaphors  may  be  found  in  the  works  of  Light- 
foot  and  Wetstein.  We  often  hear  of  a  person 
having  a  "stigma  upon  him."  A  stigma  was 
formerly  the  branding  iron  used  by  the  Greeks 
for  marking  their  criminals.  It  was  in  shape  not 
unlike  a  small  figure  five  (5),  and  was  usually 
applied  upon  the  forehead,  cheek,  or  back  of  the 
hand,  where  it  would  not  fail  to  be  noticed.     The 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


599 


Hebrews  are  said  to  have  used  their  final  letter, 
tau,  for  a  similar  purpose.  See  Ezekiel  ix.  4. 
In  the  Talmud  it  is  fabled  that  the  Book  of  Deu- 
teronomy came  and  prostrated  itself  before  God 
and  said  : 

"  O  L,ord  of  the  universe,  Thou  hast  written  in 
me  Thy  law,  but  if  a  testament  is  defective  in 
some  parts  it  is  defective  in  all.  Behold,  Solomon 
endeavors  to  root  the  letter  jod  out  of  me. 
Neither  shall  he  multiply  wives."  See  Talmud 
(Sanhed.  xx.  2.  Bible,  Deut.  xvii.  17).  "Then," 
says  the  Talmud,  "the  Holy  Blessed  God  an- 
swered, '  Solomon  and  a  thousand  such  as  he 
shall  perish,  but  the  least  letter  shall  not  perish 
out  of  thee. '  ' ' 


False  Christs. 

Jesus  predicted  that  many  false  Christs  would 
come  after  Him,  especially  "at  the  beginning  of 
the  end,"  and  He  particularly  warned  His  dis- 
ciples against  these  impostors.  For  this  reason 
many  devout  persons  believe,  and  have  believed 
during  the  whole  period  of  the  Christian  era, 
that  the  advent  of  these  pretended  Christs  or 
Saviours  is  one  of  the  sure  signs  that  the  coming 
of  the  real  Messiah  is  near  at  hand  ;  others, 
backed  by  the  evidence  of  history,  attacli  but 
little  importance  to  the  appearance  of  these  im- 
postors, preferring  to  treat  them  as  deluded 
fanatics,  worthy  only  of  a  place  in  some  insane 
asylum.  That  there  is  no  "sign"  of  anything 
in  these  appearances,  unless  it  is  a  sign  of  a  soft 
spot  in  the  head  of  the  impersonator,  may  be  in- 
ferred from  the  fact  that  not  less  than  twenty-four 
different  persons  presented  themselves  to  the  Jews 
alone,  claiming  to  be  Christ  returned,  between  the 
time  of  the  crucifixion  and  the  year  1682.  Many 
of  these  "Messiahs"  were  defended  by  the  Jews 
at  an  enormous  cost  of  both  life  and  mone)'. 
Especially  is  this  true  in  the  case  of  Coziba  of 
Barchocheba,  one  of  the  most  popular  of  the  false 
Christs,  who  arose  as  the  Messiah  of  the  Jews  in 
the  second  century  after  the  crucifixion  of  Jesus 
(the  Jews,  of  course,  put  Jesus  down  among  the 
false  Christs),  and  in  whose  defence  they  lost  over 
600,000  men  when  the  Romans  made  war  upon 
them  in  an  attempt  to  put  down  the  popular 
delusion.  In  the  sixtli  century  a  remarkable 
impostor  appeared  at  Alexandria,  in  Egypt, 
claiming  to  be  Jesus  of  Nazareth  returned  to 
earth.     He  showed  scars  in  his  hands  and  feet 


where  he  said  he  had  been  nailed  to  the  cross  six 
centuries  before,  and  called  upon  the  Egyptians 
to  follow  him  in  a  revengeful  war  against  the 
Jews.  The  chief  ruler  of  Egypt  became  one  of 
the  impostor's  followers,  and  contributed  an  im- 
mense army  for  the  purpose  of  invading  Palestine. 
Everything  was  in  readiness  when  the  false  Christ 
took  down  with  a  fever,  and  soon  died,  just  as  a 
common  Egyptian  would  have  done. 

The  tenth  century  was  one  prolific  of  false 
Christs,  not  less  than  eight  or  ten  so-called 
"  Messiahs"  making  their  appearance  and  being 
ministered  to  by  a  greater  or  less  multitude  of 
deluded  followers  during  that  century. 

From  the  beginning  of  the  eleventh  to  the 
opening  of  the  seventeenth  century  but  few  false 
Christs  are  recorded.  The  masses  were  becoming 
more  generally  educated,  and,  therefore,  less 
likely  to  become  followers  of  such  blasphemers. 
The  extraordinary  wiles  of  Mordecai,  a  German 
Jew,  who  lived  in  1682,  gained  him  quite  a  repu- 
tation as  a  Christ,  but  he  was  at  last  compelled  to 
flee  for  his  life  and  end  his  days  as  an  outcast. 
Moses  Charjorn  Euzzatto,  an  Italian,  born  in  1707, 
is  said  to  have  actually  believed  himself  the  pre- 
dicted Messiah.  He  wrote  a  ' '  Newer  Testament ' ' 
and  organized  a  church,  but  did  not  make  any 
considerable  headway.  He  died  in  1740,  while 
making  efforts  to  prove  his  divine  origin. 

According  to  the  Fremdenblatt,  of  Berlin,  a  false 
Christ  made  his  bow  in  Germany  in  August,  1872. 
He  called  himself  "Jekuthiel"  (Chronicles  vi. 
18),  King  of  Israel,  and  announced  that  he  had 
come  to  assume  the  throne  of  his  empire  as  the 
true  Messiah.  His  manifesto,  entitled,  "To 
Whom  It  May  Concern,"  bore  a  seal  which  had 
the  crown  of  David  on  one  side  and  a  Scriptural 
quotation  on  the  other.  He  evidently  found 
but  few  disciples,  as  very  little  concerning  him 
ever  appeared  in  the  German  papers.  In  1SS0, 
or  thereabouts,  the  mountaineers  of  West  Vir- 
ginia attempted  to  create  an  excitement  by  pre- 
tending to  believe  in  the  divinity  of  one  of  their 
number.  The  year  18S8  gave  Georgia  a  trio  of 
false  Christs — a  woman,  a  negro  by  the  name  of 
Edward  James,  and  a  white  man  named  Dupont 
Bell.  The  woman's  success  in  the  miracle  line 
gained  her  a  great  reputation  for  a  while.  James 
and  Bell  were  both  finally  committed  to  the  insane 
asylum. 

The  latest   Messianic   excitements   have   been 


THE   BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


601 


produced  by  Schweinfurth,  of  Rockfort,  111.,  who 
claims  that  he  is  indeed  the  veritable  Christ,  and 
has  attracted  to  himself  a  considerable  company 
of  deluded  followers — and  the  expected  appear- 
ance of  the  Indian  Messiah  in  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tain regions,  which  led  to  the  recent  deplorable 
and  bloody  massacre  of  a  large  number  of  men, 
women  and  children  belonging  to  the  Sioux  tribe. 
The  idea  of  a  Messiah  seems  to  be  inherent  in  the 
human  race,  and  false  Christs  will  doubtless  con- 
tinue to  appear  until  all  men  learn  to  place  reason 
above  superstition. 


Origin  of  a  Curious  Custom. 
Many  persons  have  a  custom  of  exclaiming 
"God  bless  you,"  when  in  the  presence  of  any 
one  who  happens  to  sneeze  ;  and  it  is  probable 
that  very  few  who  use  the  expression  know  that 
there  is  anything  peculiar  in  its  origin.  A  writer 
in  the  Talmud  explains  this  curious  custom  by 
saying  that,  among  his  people,  there  was  a  tradi- 
tion that  before  the  flood  a  man  never  sneezed  but 
once  ;  the  shock  killed  him  ;  but  on  special  suppli- 
cation by  Noah  the  descendants  of  that  patriarch 
were  allowed  to  sneeze  as  often  as  they  pleased, 
and,  in  memory  of  the  change,  the  benediction 
was  always  uttered.  A  more  rational  account  of 
the  origin  of  so  singular  a  practice  is  found  in  the 
historical  fact  that  in  the  early  days  of  Athens  a 
species  of  plague  prevailed  and  depopulated  the 
city.  The  first  symptom  of  the  distemper  was  a 
fit  of  sneezing.  When  this  began,  the  friends  of 
the  afflicted  part)-  would  offer  prayer  that  the  dis- 
ease might  not  make  its  appearance.  The  prac- 
tice of  making  a  pious  ej  aculation  continued  after 
the  reason  for  its  pronunciation  had  disappeared, 
and,  like  man}-  other  superstitious  practices,  has 
been  kept  up  by  persons  who  know  neither  reason 
for  it  nor  anything  of  its  origin. 


John  as  an  Unlucky  Name  for  a  King. 

John  has  been  a  proverbially  unlucky  name 
for  monarchs.  John  I.  of  the  Eastern  Empire 
was  poisoned  by  a  servant ;  John  IV.  was  deposed 
and  had  his  eyes  put  out ;  John  V.  ruled  only  in 
name,  and  was  constantly  harassed  by  wars  and 
palace  intrigues  to  assassinate  him  ;  John  VI.  was 
deposed  and  died  ir  a  prison  monasters'.  The 
Papal  Johns  were  al'  unfortunate  ;  three  died  in 
prison  ;  one  was  captured  by  his  enemies  and  sub- 


jected to  shameful  indignities  ;  one  was  deposed 
for  sacrilege ;  one  was  killed  by  the  fall  of  a 
building  ;  one  died  in  exile  and  poverty.  One  of 
the  Swedish  Johns  was  defeated  in  every  expedi- 
tion, another  was  driven  out  of  the  kingdom  by  his 
subjects.  John  I.  of  France  had  a  short  and 
disastrous  reign ;  John  II.  was  taken  prisoner 
by  the  English,  under  the  Black  Prince,  at  the 
battle  of  Poitiers,  and  passed  many  years  in  cap- 
tivity. John  of  England  had  a  singularly  un- 
happy reign,  nor  was  John  Baliol  of  Scotland 
more  fortunate.  John  Stuart  of  Scotland  was  so 
much  influenced  by  the  superstition  that,  on  as- 
cending the  throne,  he  changed  his  name  to 
Robert,  but  without  result,  for  his  reign  was  filled 
with  calamities  for  himself  and  his  country.  The 
ancient  belief  in  this  singular  superstition  may 
account  for  the  British  nation  having  had  but 
one  monarch  named  John. 


Dionysius's  Ear. 
Near  Syracuse,  in  Sicily,  there  is  a  remarkable 
cave,  the  work  of  human  art  and  skill,  which  was 
constructed  by  Dionysius,  the  Tyrant  of  Syracuse, 
who  died  B.  C. ,  367.  This  queer  excavation  is 
250  feet  long  by  80  high,  and  is  shaped  very  like 
a  human  ear.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  scientifically  con- 
structed whispering  galler}-,  wherein  all  sounds, 
however  faint,  were  reflected  to  a  central  cham- 
ber. It  is  said  that  the  tyrant  put  to  death  the 
architect  who  designed  and  the  workmen  who  ex- 
cavated it,  in  order  that  its  purpose  might  never 
be  known.  In  it  he  imprisoned  suspected  persons, 
and  in  the  central  chamber  passed  whole  days 
listening  to  the  conversation  of  the  prisoners  in 
order  to  ascertain  what  conspiracies  existed 
against  him.  The  prisoners  were  chained  to 
the  floor  at  such  points  as  were  most  favorable 
for  the  reflection  of  their  voices  to  the  secret 
chamber,  and  the  staples  with  which  their  chains 
were  secured  are  still  to  be  seen  in  the  stone. 
Although  time  has  done  much  to  injure  the  mar- 
vellous contrivance,  its  powers  of  reflecting  sound 
are  still  so  good  that  the  lightest  whisper  may  be 
heard  with  great  distinctness  from  the  entrance  to 
the  furthest  recess.  Its  mysterious  power  was 
not  known  until  many  years  after  the  tyrant's 
death,  and  his  habit  of  spying  on  his  prisoners 
enabled  him  to  reign  for  thirty-nine  years  and 
thwart  every  plot  against  him. 


(502 


THE  WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,    AND   THE 


Low  Opinion  of  Woman  in  the  Early  Days  of  Christianity. 

Before  the  Christian  era  woman  was  regarded 
by  most  of  the  nations  as  a  necessary  evil.     A 


might  dispense  with  his  weak  and  useless  com- 
panion, who  could  neither  fight  nor  take  part  in 
the  councils  of  the  government.      In  the  early 

days  of  Chris- 
tianity a  belief 
became  preva- 
ent  among  the 
barbarous  peo- 
ple who  adopted 
the  new  faith 
that  womeii 
were  the  special 
messengers  of 
Satan  and  his 
imps.  This  be- 
lief was  founded 
upon  several 
reasons,  which, 
to  the  mediaeval 
mind,  were  suf- 
ficiently  co- 
gent. Woman, 
through  her 
weakness  in 
submitting  t  o 
the  evils  of  the 
tempter,  was  di- 
rectly responsi- 
ble for  all  the 
evil  in  the 
world,  and 
would,  there- 
fore, be  natur- 
ally selected  by 
Satan  to  carry 
on  the  work 
which  she  had 
been  instrumen- 
tal in  introdu- 
cing. She  was 
practically  un- 
der the  ban  of 
the  Church. 
Some  of  the 
fathers  doubted 
w  h  e  t  h e  r  she 
had    a    soul: 

BATTLE   OF   POITIERS   AND    CAPTURE   OF   KING  JOHN.  Others,    W  ll  i  1  e 

celebrated    Roman    philosopher    lamented    that      admitting  this,  affirmed  her  soul  to  be  of  different 


nature  had  not  supplied  us  with  some  other  means 
of  propagating  the  human  race,  in  order  that  man 


quality  and  substance  from  the  soul  of  man  ;  one 
father  taught  that  even  if  admitted  to  heaven,  she 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE    WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


603 


would  be  placed  on  a  lower  plane,  and  the  text, 
"In  my  Father's  house  are  many  mansions,"  was 
quoted  to  prove  that  a  separate  dwelling  would  be 
assigned  for  her  use  ;  another  called  her  the  ' '  gate 
of  hell;"  still  another  forbade  her  to  comb  her 
hair  or  wash  her  face,  lest  thereby  she  should  lead 
men  to  sin.  What  more  natural,  therefore,  than 
that  she  should  be  selected  by  evil  spirits  as  their 
agent  for  mischief.  L,ittle  by  little  the  theory 
grew,  until  not  only  had  the  supposed  fact  of 
woman's  diabolical  possession  been  fixed,  but  the 
limitations  of  her  power  were  clearly  defined. 
The  woman  possessed  by  Satan  could  do  evil,  but 
not  good,  for  when  she  attempted  the  latter  the 
devils  stopped  and  chastised  her.  She  could  raise 
storms,  blight  fields  of  grain,  cause  the  death  of 
cattle,  ruin  the  health  of  children,  throw  adults 
into  convulsions.  She  could  make  the  most  prom- 
ising undertaking  result  in  loss  ;  could  cause  the 
merchant's  ships  to  founder  at  sea,  the  king's 
armies  to  lose  their  way  on  a  march.  But  in 
spite  of  all  her  power,  which  had  been  obtained 
by  the  sale  of  her  soul  to  Satan,  he  always  cheated 
her  in  the  bargain,  and  although  he  perforce 
obeyed  her  commands,  as  by  contract  bound  to 
do,  he  always  contrived  that  she  should  remain 
old,  and  poor,  and  miserable. 


The  Witch's  Hammer. 

During  the  famous  witch  delusion  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages,  and  after  the  invention  of  the  printing 
press,  a  very  large  proportion  of  the  literature  of 
the  day  was  devoted  to  a  consideration  of  this 
subject.  The  Imperial  Library  at  Berlin  contains 
over  16,000  separate  works  relating  to  witchcraft 
that  were  issued  during  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury and  the  titles  of  nearly  20,000  more. 
The  countries  of  Europe  were  literally  flooded 
with  this  class  of  literature.  The  most  celebrated 
of  all  the  publications  on  this  subject  was  the 
famous  Malleus  Malificarum,  or  "Witch's  'Ham- 
mer, "  a  book  which  is  said  by  a  distinguished 
writer  to  have  caused  more  misery  and  bloodshed 
than  any  other  that  ever  came  from  human  pen. 
It  was  a  text  book  of  instruction  in  witch  wis- 
dom, composed  by  two  German  inquisitors, 
Kramer  and  Sprengel,  for  their  own  use  in  witch- 
hunting. 

The  "Hammer"  taught  the  enemies  of  the 
witches  not  only  what  to  do,  but  how  to  do  it. 
The  motto  on  its  title  page  was  "  Not  to  believe 


in  witchcraft  is  the  greatest  of  heresies, ' '  and  after 
this  menacing  declaration,  faith  in  witchcraft  was 
not  slow.  The  most  minute  directions  were  given 
for  finding  a  witch  and  for  determining  her  guilt 
when  she  had  been  found.  After  accusation  she 
was  stripped  naked  and  her  body  shaved  to  ascer- 
tain whether  there  were  any  witch  marks  on 
her  person,  for  it  was  well  understood  that  the 
devil  always  sealed  his  servants  with  some  myste- 
rious mark  which  was  insensitive  to  touch.  A 
scar,  a  burn,  a  mole,  a  wen,  sent  many  a  hapless 
creature  to  the  stake.  Her  eyes  were  blindfolded, 
her  flesh  pricked  with  pins,  and  she  required  to 
state  the  exact  spot  where  she  felt  the  pain  ;  if, 
in  the  fright  and  embarrassment,  she  failed  to  do 
so,  she  was  deemed  guilty.  If  she  refused  to  con- 
fess her  guilt,  she  was  inclosed  in  a  sack  and  with 
her  hands  and  feet  tied  together,  was  flung  into  a 
pond  of  standing  water.  If  she  sank,  she  was 
only  drowned,  and  was  probably  guilty,  other- 
wise God  would  have  saved  her  from  drowning  ; 
if  she  floated,  the  waters  of  baptism  refused  to  re- 
ceive her ;  she  was  undoubtedly  guilty,  and  was 
taken  out  and  burned.  In  case  these  tests  failed, 
she  was  put  to  various  tortures,  many  of  them 
unspeakably  cruel,  to  compel  her  to  confess  ;  and 
whether  she  did  so  or  not  there  was  for  her  no 
escape.  The  judges  were  solemnly  enjoined  that 
a  witch  was  exempt  from  all  ordinary  rules  of 
evidence  and  beyond  the  reach  of  human  com- 
passion ;  they  were,  therefore,  to  show  her  no 
mercy.  To  denounce  a  witch  was  the  most  meri- 
torious act  that  could  be  performed  ;  to  speak  in 
behalf  of  one  the  most  heinous  crime. 


The  Neck  Verse. 

The  first  verse  of  the  fifty-first  Psalm,  reading 
as  follows:  "Have  mercy  upon  me,  O  God,  ac- 
cording to  thy  loving  kindness  ;  according  to  the 
multitude  of  thy  tender  mercies,  blot  out  my 
transgressions,"  is  called  the  "neck  verse,"  for 
the  following  reasons  :  Under  the  old  English  law 
the  clergy  were  exempt  from  civil  jurisdiction, 
and  could  be  punished  for  crime  or  misdemeanor 
only  by  the  ecclesiastical  courts,  which  were  noted 
for  their  leniency  toward  clerical  offenders.  This 
provision  was  known  by  the  technical  name  of 
' '  benefit  of  clergy. ' '  When  a  criminal  claimed 
the  benefit  of  clergy,  the  verse  above  quoted  was 
used  as  a  text.  If  the  accused  was  able  to  read 
the  verse,  his  neck  was  safe,  for  no  civil  court 


604 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


could  send  him  to  the  gallows.  The  law  exempt- 
ing clergy  from  civil  penalties  was  established 
during  the  reign  of  William  Rufus,  and  continued 
in  force  till  about  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  It  was  often  abused,  for  kindly  disposed 
clergymen  would  frequently  teach  persons  un- 
justly accused  the  verse  in  question,  and  even 
render  them  assistance  in  repeating  it  in  court, 
but  the  abuse  of  the  law  was  the  natural  result, 
(i)  of  a  change  in  public  sentiment  with  regard 
to  the  responsibility  of  the  clergy  ;  (2)  of  the  more 
general  diffusion  of  knowledge,  so  that  an  ability 
to  read  was  no  longer  regarded  as  an  evidence  of 
having  taken  clerical  orders. 


Christmas. 

The  institution  of  this  festival  in  commemora- 
tion of  the  birth  of  the  Saviour  is  attributed  to 
Pope  Telespholus,  who  died  about  A.  D.  13S. 
The  original  meaning  of  the  word  is  "  Christ  and 
mass,"  and  at  first  it  was  a  movable  holiday,  like 
Easter,  and  was  celebrated  by  the  Eastern 
churches  in  April  and  May.  In  the  fourth  cen- 
tury St.  Cyril,  of  Jerusalem,  obtained  from  Pope 
Julius  an  order  for  an  investigation  to  be  made 
concerning  the  day  of  Christ's  nativity.  The 
result  of  the  inquiry  was  an  agreement  upon  the 
25th  of  December,  and  the  decision  was  univer- 
sally accepted,  although  in  the  'opinion  of  some 
of  the  fathers  there  was  no  authentic  proof  of  the 
identification  of  the  day. 

The  sun-worshippers  among  the  old  pagan  na- 
tions had  a  festival  similar  to  our  Christmas, 
and  many  of  its  features  were  adopted  by  the 
fathers  of  the  primitive  Church.  The  Romans 
themselves  were  sun- worshippers,  and  continued 
in  their  ancient  faith  until  the  adoption  of  Chris- 
tianity as  the  state  religion  by  Coristautine.  It 
was  therefore  quite  natural  that  some  of  the  cere- 
monies of  the  old  superstition  should  be  engrafted 
upon  the  new  religion,  especially  when  the  con- 
version of  a  large  majority  of  the  people  was  a 
matter  of  state  policy  rather  than  a  change  of 
heart  or  belief  on  the  part  of  the  pagan  masses. 

The  shortest  days  of  the  year  occur  just  before 
Christmas,  and  at  this  season  our  savage  ancfestors 
thought  that  the  sun  had  been  overpowered  or 
conquered  by  the  powers  of  darkness.  But,  after 
a  little,  in  spite  of  the  power  of  the  shadows,  the 
days  began  to  lengthen,  and  the  sun  came  out 
victorious  over  his~enemies.    When  we  remember 


that  our  ancestors  lived  in  caves  and  dens,  and 
that  the)-  possessed  a  degree  of  intelligence  but 
little  above  that  of  the  fierce  animals  by  which 
they  were  surrounded,  and  with  which  they 
waged  perpetual  war ;  when  we  consider  the 
coid  and  gloomy  winters  through  which  they 
passed,  and  the  cloud  and  darkness  and  hun- 
ger with  which  they  were  oppressed,  we  can 
easily  imagine  how  the}'  rejoiced  when  the  days 
began  to  lengthen,  and  with  what  feelings  of 
gladness  they  greeted  the  rising  sun  as  he  spread 
his  warm  and  fructifying  rays  over  the  landscape, 
melting  the  frozen  rivers  and  lakes  and  clothing 
the  trees  and  the  earth  with  a  new  mantle  of 
green.  Really,  we  cannot  blame  them  for  wor- 
shipping the  sun.  How  their  eyes  gleamed  ;  how 
their  hearts  throbbed  !  The  season  of  Christmas 
was  then  associated  with  the  return  of  life.  It 
was  the  promise  of  another  spring,  of  plenty  of 
sunshine  and  joy.  This  period  has  been  associated 
for  countless  generations  with  the  best  sentiments, 
with  the  best  feelings  of  the  human  heart,  and 
no  matter  whether  it  has  been  appropriated  by 
some  peculiar  form  of  faith  or  not,  there  is  the 
same  reason  in  nature  for  its  celebration  that 
there  was  before  man  ever  heard  of  the  birth  of 
the  Saviour. 

According  to  tradition  Christ  was  born  about 
the  middle  of  the  night,  and  since  the  sixth  cen- 
tury it  has  been  the  custom  of  the  Catholic 
Church  to  celebrate  three  masses,  one  at  mid- 
night, another  at  early  dawn,  and  the  third  in  the 
morning.  During  the  Middle  Ages  the  festival 
was  observed  by  fantastic  spectacles  of  dramatic 
mysteries,  performed  by  personages  in  grotesque 
masks  and  singular  costumes,  which  we  see  imi- 
tated in  our  modern  Mardi  Gras  festivals.  The 
bishops  and  lower  clergy  often  joined  with  the 
populace  in  their  gay  sports,  while  the  songs  were 
enlivened  with  dances  and  by  the  music  of  tam- 
bours, guitars,  violins,  and  organs.  During  the 
last  days  preceding  Christmas  it  is  still  the  custom 
of  the  Calabrian  minstrels  of  Italy  to  descend 
from  the  mountains  to  Naples  and  Rome,  saluting 
the  shrine  of  the  Virgin  Mary  wTith  their  wild 
music,  under  the  poetical  idea  of  cheering  and 
comforting  her  until  the  birth  of  her  Son.  Among 
the  other  revels  of  the  Christmas  season  were  the 
famous  feasts  of  fools  and  of  asses,  fully  described 
in  another  portion  of  this  volume,  and  sometimes 
called  ' '  December  liberties, ' '  in  which  everything 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S    HISTORY. 


605 


serious  was  burlesqued,  inferiors  mimicking  their 
superiors,  great  men  playing  fools,  and  all  illus- 
trating the  proueness  of  man  to  occasionally  re- 
verse the  order  of  society  and  ridicule  its  forms 
and  decencies. 

In  the  Protestant  districts  of  Germany  and  the 
north  of  Europe,  Christinas  is  frequently  called 
the  "  Children's  Festival,"  and  the  occasion  is 
enlivened  by  the  bestowal  of  presents  through  the 
medium  of  the  familiar  Christmas-tree.  The 
custom  formerly  prevailed,  and  is  still  in  vogue 
in  some  of  the  villages  of  North  German}-,  of 
sending  all  the  presents  to  some  one  person,  who, 
clothed  in  a  white  robe  with  high  buskins,  and 
wearing  a  mask  and  an  enormous  wig,  went  from 
house  to  house,  under  the  title  of  Knecht  Rupert 
(Rupert  the  servant),  being  received  by  the 
parents  at  each  house  with  great  pomp  and  cere- 
mony, whereupon  he  calls  for  the  children,  and 
bestows  the  intended  gifts  upon  them  according 
to  the  character  which  he  receives  from  the 
parents  after  severe  inquiries.  At  the  conclusion 
of  the  festivals  a  more  sombre  scene  ensues,  during 
which  the  mother  takes  occasion  to  say  privately 
to  the  daughters,  and  the  father  to  the  sons,  what 
has  been  observed  most  praiseworthy  and  what 
most  faulty  in  their  conduct. 

There  is  a  singular  old  Swedish  superstition, 
preserved  in  the  history  of  Olans,  Archbishop  of 
Upsal,  to  the  effect  that  at  the  Christmas  festival 
the  men  of  the  cold  northern  regions  were  suddenly 
changed  into  wolves,  and  that  a  great  multitude 
of  them  went  together  at  an  appointed  place 
during  the  night,  and  raged  so  fiercely  against 
mankind  and  domestic  animals,  that  the  inhabi- 
tants of  that  country  suffered  more  from  their  at- 
tacks than  they  ever  did  from  natural  wolves.  The 
superstition  is  a  singular  one,  and  there  is  no  ex- 
planation of  the  cause  of  its  origin. 

The  practice  of  decking  houses  and  churches 
with  evergreens  at  Christmas,  is  one  of  the  many 
customs  that  have  come  down  to  us  from  the  an- 
cient Druids,  whose  temples  were  in  the  woods 
and  whose  priests  wore  chaplets  of  ivy  and  oak 
leaves.  It  was  believed  that  sylvan  spirits  might 
flock  to  the  evergreens  and  remain  unharmed  by 
the  frost  until  a  milder  season. 

There  is  also  an  old  superstition  that  on  Christ- 
mas Eve  the  oxen  were  always  found  on  their 
knees,  in  an  attitude  of  devotion,  and  that  after 
changing    from  old  to  new   style  in  computing 


time,  they  continued  to  do  this  only  on  the  eve  of 
old  Christmas  day.  The  superstition  is  derived 
from  the  kneeling  position  assumed  \sy  cattle  in 
lying  down,  and  from  a  tradition  which  prevailed 
during  mediaeval  times,  that  an  ox  and  an  ass, 
which  were  present  at  the  nativity,  fell  upon  their 
knees  in  a  suppliant  posture,  as  shown  in  numer- 
ous paintings  of  the  16th  century. 


Ships  of  the  Ancients. 

People  of  modern  times  are  justly  proud  of  the 
wonderful  and  magnificent  specimens  of  naval 
architecture  that  crowd  the  great  ports  of  the 
world.  If  there  is  anything  new  under  the  sun, 
a  first-class  ocean  steamer,  it  is  believed,  is  that 
rarity.  In  our  conceit  we  recall  only  the  galleys 
and  triremes  of  the  ancients,  that  scarce  ever  ven- 
tured beyond  the  coast  line,  and  the  small  barks 
in  which  Columbus  and  those  who  followed  him 
conquered  a  new  world  and  gave  commerce  its 
greatest  field.  But  the  ancients  built  many  goodly- 
sized  vessels,  and  made  luxury  a  stud)-  on 
some  of  them.  That  much-controverted  :raft, 
the  ark,  is  an  example  of  bigness.  Her  carrying 
capacity  is  estimated  at  about  15,000  tons,  smaller, 
it  is  true,  than  that  of  the  Great  Eastern,  but 
larger  than  any  of  our  other  modern  ships.  No 
less  an  authority  than  Lindsay  thinks  that  she  was 
simply  a  raft  of  stupendous  size,  having  upon  it  a 
structure  resembling  a  huge  warehouse.  As  no 
means  of  propulsion  were  necessary,  this  descrip- 
tion may  be  correct.  The  cargo,  however,  was 
unique  and  probably  the  largest  and  most  valu- 
able ever  carried.  The  description  of  the  ark  as 
given  in  the  Scriptures,  makes  the  vessel  about 
450  feet  in  length,  75  feet  in  breadth,  and  45  feet 
in  depth,  proportions  similar  to  those  now  in  use 
to-day  for  great  vessels.  But  as  the  agnostic  is 
not  sure  that  this  life-boat  of  the  human  race  ever 
existed,  and  as  the  materialist  is  sure  she  never 
was  built,  let  us  take  as  examples  of  big  ancient 
ships  some  other  vessels  vouched  for  upon  the  au- 
thority of  profane  and  not  sacred  writers.  The 
Egyptians,  fond  of  large  things  and  great  dimen- 
sions, made  the  largest  tonnage  vessels  of  ancient 
times.  Ptolemy  (Philopater)  would  have  appre- 
ciated the  Great  Eastern.  He  was  fond  of  build- 
ing big  boats.  One  of  these  is  said  to  have  been 
420  feet  long,  57  feet  broad  and  72  feet  deep  from 
the  highest  point  of  the  stern.  This  vessel  had 
four  rudders,  or  what  some  would  call  steering 


1306 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE  CURIOUS,  AND   THE 


oars,  as  they  were  not  fastened,  each  45  feet  long. 
She  carried  4000  rowers,  besides  3000  marines,  a 
large  body  of  servants  under  her  decks,  and  stores 
and  provisions.  Her  oars  were  57  feet  long,  and 
the  handles  were  weighted  with  lead.  There 
were  2000  rowers  on  a  side,  and  it  is  supposed  that 
these  were  divided  into  five  banks.  That  this  ex- 
traordiuarv  vessel  ever  put  to  sea  is  doubted,  but 


stairs  and  gardens.  Another  great  vessel,  his- 
torical by  reason  of  its  size,  is  one  built  by 
Hiero,  King  of  Syracuse.  Her  dimensions  are 
estimated  to  have  been  large  from  the  descrip- 
tion of  her  cargo  and  the  number  of  her  decks  and 
houses.  She  is  supposed  to  have  been  sheathed 
with  lead,  and  made  at  least  one  successful  voy- 
age.    A  full  description  of  her  would  read  some- 


ORECIAN    SHIP   OF   TH 

that  she  was  launched  and  used  at  times,  if  only 
for  display,  several  historians  are  agreed.  Another 
"ship,"  the  Thalamegus,  built  for  one  of  the 
Ptolemies,  is  said  to  have  been  300  feet  long,  40 
feet  broad  and  60  feet  deep.  This  was  a  far  more 
magnificent  vessel  than  any  previous  one.  An 
Alexandrian  historian,  Callixenus,  in  describing 
her,    speaks   of    her   having   colonnades,  marble 


E   HOMERIC   PERIOD. 

what  like  that  of  a  Long  Island  Sound  or  Hudson 
River  steamboat.  She  had  three  entrances,  the 
lowest  leading  to  the  hold,  the  second  to  the  eat- 
ing rooms  and  the  third  appropriated  to  the  sol- 
diers. There  were  thirty  rooms,  each  having  four 
couches  for  the  soldiers  ;  there  were  fifteen  couches 
in  the  sailors'  supper  room,  and  there  were  three 
more    cabins,   each  having  three  couches.     The 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


607 


floors  of  all  these  rooms  were  laid  in  stone  mosaic     talents,  all  of  which  was  in  addition  to  the  pro- 


work.  There  was  also  a  temple  of  cypress  inlaid 
with  ivory  and  dedicated  to  Venus.  The  main- 
mast was  composed  of  a  single  tree,  and  the 
vessel  carried  four  wooden  and  eight  iron 
anchors.     As    a  freight  carrier    she  would   rival 


vision  required  for  the  crew."  These  are  the 
notably  big  vessels  of  ancient  times,  but  the  sup- 
position is  that  as  rulers,  whether  king  or  people, 
were  as  emulous  in  those  days  as  these,  other  big 
craft  were  also  built.     From  the  foregoing  de- 


WAR  SHIPS   OF  THE   ANCIENTS. — 


the  largest  of  our  ocean  steamers.  It  is  recorded 
that  one  or  two  of  the  launches  belonging  to 
her  would  sustain  about  eighty  tons.  This  vessel 
is  said  to  have  carried  "60,000  measures  of 
corn,  10,000  jars  of  Sicilian  salt  fish,  20,000 
talents'  weight  of  wool,  and  of  other  cargo  20,000 


(Copy  of  ancient  engraving.) 

scription  the  thought  is  suggested  that  the  first 

designers  of  our  own  river  steamboats  may  have 

heard  of  the  Egyptian  and  Syracusan  vessels  and 

taken    a    hint   from   them    in    building   floating 

palaces. 

These  ancient  ships,  when  used  for  purposes  of 


608 


THE   WONDERFUL,  THE   CURIOUS.  AND   THE 


war,  were  armed  with  mechanical  slings,  cata- 
pults, trebuchets,  and  other  contrivances  which 
rendered  them  almost  as  destructive  and  formid- 
able as  a  modern  first-class  ironclad. 


GREEK  FIRE. 

THE  first  account  we  have  of  the  use  of   this 
compound  as  a  destructive  agent  in  warfare, 
was  during  the   siege  of  Constantinople  by   the 


had  the  effect  of  increasing  its  inflammability. 
Sand,  urine,  or  vinegar  were  the  only  elements 
that  could  dampen  its  fury-. 

The  secret  of  compounding  and  directing  the 
devouring  flame  of  Greek  Fire  was  imparted  to 
the  Romans  by  a  native  of  Heliopolis  in  S\-ria, 
named  Calinicus,  who  deserted  from  the  service 
of  the  Caliph  to  that,  of  the  Christian  Emperor. 
This  discovery  or  improvement  of  the  military  art 


DESTRUCTION    OF    SHIPS    BY    GREEK    FIRE. 


Saracens,  A.  D.  673 — 679.  It  was  the  most  fear- 
fully destructive  force  ever  employed  in  war,  and 
has  been  designated  by  the  various  names  of  ' '  wild 
fire,"  "maritime  fire,"  "wet  fire,"  "fire  rain," 
etc.,  while  the  Chinese,  with  Oriental  amplifica- 
tion, applied  to  it  the  appropriate  term  of  "the 
cruel  oil  of  fire." 

Owing  to  its  viscid  nature  it  adhered  to  what- 
ever it  touched,  and  water,  particularly  sea-water. 


was  fortunately  reserved  for  that  distressful  period 
when  the  degenerate  and  emasculated  Romans  of 
the  Eastern  Empire  were  incapable  of  contending 
with  the  warlike  enthusiasm  and  youthful  vigor 
of  the  Saracens.  The  secret  of  the  composition 
was  lost  soon  after  the  invention  of  gunpowder 
rendered  its  use  no  longer  necessary  or  desirable, 
but  from  the  best  information  still  attainable  the 
principal  ingredient  was  naphtha,  or  liquid  bitu- 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


609 


men,  a  light,  tenacious  and  inflammable  oil, which 
springs  from  the  earth  and  hurts  into  flame  as 
soon  as  it  comes  in  contact  with  the  air.  The 
Syrian  historian  Michel  gave  the  name  of  naphtha 
to  the  newly-invented  Greek  Fire,  and  abundant 
supplies  of  this  material  were  obtainable  in  the 
regions  lying  between  the  Tigris  and  the  Caspian 
Sea.  The  naphtha  was  mingled  with  sulphur  and 
the  pitch  that  is  extracted  from  evergreen  firs,  but 
by  what  methods  or  in  what  proportions  cannot 
now  be  ascertained.  The  mixture  produced  a 
thick  smoke  and  a  loud  explosion,  and  from  it 
proceeded  a  fierce  and  obstinate  flame,  which  not 
only  rose  in  perpendicular  ascent,  but  likewise 
burnt  with  equal  vehemence  in  descent  or  lateral 
progress.  It  was  employed  with  equal  effect  by 
sea  and  land,  in  battles  or  in  sieges,  and  was 
poured  from  the  ramparts  in  large  boilers,  or 
launched  in  red-hot  balls  of  stone  and  iron,  or 
darted  in  arrows  and  javelins,  twisted  round  with 
flax  and  tow,  which  had  deepl}-  imbibed  the  in- 
flammable substance.  Huge  bolts  of  timber, 
saturated  with  the  oil,  were  hurled  into  the  ranks 
of  the  enemy  by  means  of  an  engine  that  acted 
like  a  sling  ;  but  the  most  common  method  was 
to  blow  the  unquenchable  flame  through  large 
tubes  of  copper,  fancifully  shaped  into  the  mouths 
of  savage  monsters,  that  seemed  to  vomit  streams 
of  liquid  and  consuming  fire,  carrying  terror  and 
dismay  into  the  hearts  of  the  stoutest  warriors. 
Nothing  could  resist  its  fury.  Ancient  writers 
describe  it  as  flying  through  the  air  like  a  winged 
long-tailed  dragon,  about  the  thickness  of  a 
hogshead,  with  the  report  of  thunder  and  the 
velocity  of  lightning.  The  darkness  of  night  was 
dispelled  by  the  deadly  illumination  and  fearful 
and  inevitable  destruction  followed  in  its  wake. 
Veteran  soldiers  who  despised  the  swords  and 
lances  of  their  enemy,  fled  in  terror  from  the  sight 
and  sound  of  this  mysterious  and  horrible  agent. 
In  the  memorable  siege  of  Constantinople,  the 
land  forces  of  the  Saracens  were  supported  by  a 
fleet  of  eighteen  hundred  ships,  whose  masts,  in 
the  florid  language  of  the  times,  covered  the  waters 
with  a  moving  forest.  This  tremendous  armada 
proceeded  on  a  smooth  sea,  and  with  a  gentle  gale, 
toward  the  mouth  of  the  Bosphorus,  where,  to 
allure  their  confidence,  the  Roman  commander 
had  caused  the  chain  that  usually  guarded  the 
entrance  to  the  harbor  to  be  thrown  aside  ;  but 
while  they  hesitated  whether  the)-  should  seize 
39 


the  opportunity  or  apprehend  the  snare,  the  min- 
isters of  destruction  were  at  hand.  The  fire- 
ships  were  launched  against  them,  the  brazen 
monsters  poured  forth  their  torrents  of  consuming 
fire,  and  the  Arabs,  their  arms  and  vessels,  were 
involved  in  the  quenchless  flames.  The  disorderly 
and  terrified  fugitives  were  dashed  against  each 
other  or  overwhelmed  in  the  burning  waves,  and 
out  of  the  splendid  fleet  of  eighteen  hundred 
ships  only  five  small  galleys  escaped  to  enter  the 
port  of  Alexandria  and  relate  the  frightful  inci- 
dents of  the  destruction  of  their  companions. 

The  secret  of  the  manufacture  and  use  of  Greek 
Fire  was  preserved  at  Constantinople,  as  the  palla- 
dium of  the  state,  for  a  period  of  more  than  four 
hundred  years.  The  fire-ships  and  other  instru- 
ments of  its  use  were  occasionally  lent  to  the  allies 
of  the  Empire,  but  the  secret  of  the  combination 
was  never  imparted  to  them.  They  were  told 
that  the  mystery  of  the  Greek  Fire  had  been  re- 
vealed by  an  angel  to  Coustantine  the  Great,  with 
a  sacred  injunction  that  this  gift  of  heaven,  this 
special  blessing  of  the  Romans,  should  never  be 
communicated  to  any  foreign  nation  ;  that  prince 
and  subject  were  alike  bound  to  religious  silence 
under  the  temporal  and  spiritual  penalties  of 
treason  and  sacrilege,  and  that  the  impious  at- 
tempt to  reveal  the  mystery  would  provoke  the 
sudden  and  supernatural  vengeance  of  the  God 
of  the  Christians.  The  awful  mystery  with  which 
it  was  encompassed,  and  the  threat  of  super- 
natural vengeance  to  be  visited  upon  the  head, 
of  any  who  might  presumptuous^  reveal  it,  aug- 
mented the  respect  and  horror  in  which  it  was- 
held  by  the  barbarians,  and  restrained  them  for 
centuries  from  all  attempts  at  investigating  this: 
frightful  instrument  of  death,  which  they  regard- 
ed as  a  special  agent  of  divine  vengeance.  But 
the  secret  was  at  length  discovered  or  captured 
by  the  Mahometans,  and  in  the  wars  of  the' 
Crusades  they  retorted  an  invention,  contrived 
against  themselves,  on  the  heads  of  their  Chris- 
tian adversaries.  'j 


LEGEND  OF  THE  MOSQUE  OF  THE  BLOODY 
BAPTISM  AT  CAIRO. 

CT  ULTAN  HASSAN,  wishing  to  see  the  world, 
vP  and  lay  aside  for  a  time  the  anxieties  and 
cares  of  royalty,  committed  the  charge  of  his- 
kingdom  to  his  favorite  minister,  and  taking  with 
him  a  large  amount  of  treasure    in   money  and: 


(6io) 


THE   MOSO.UE   OF   THE    BLOODY   BAPTISM. 


THE   BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE  WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


611 


jewels,  visited  several  foreign  countries  in  the 
character  of  a  wealthy  merchant.  Pleased  with 
his  tour,  and  becoming  interested  in  the  occupa- 
tion he  had  assumed  as  a  disguise,  he  was  absent 
much  longer  than  he  originally  intended,  and  in 
the  course  of  a  few  years  greatly  increased  his 
already  large  stock  of  wealth.  His  protracted 
absence,  however,  proved  a  temptation  too  strong 
for  the  virtue  of  the  viceroy,  who,  gradually  form- 
ing for  himself  a  party  among  the  leading  men 
of  the  country,  at  length  communicated  to  the 
common  people  the  intelligence  that  Sultan  Has- 
san was  no  more,  and  quietly  seated  himself  on 
the  vacant  throne.  Sultan  Hassan  returning 
shortly  afterwards  from  his  pilgrimage,  and,  for- 
tunately for  himself,  still  in  disguise,  learned,  as 
he  approached  his  capital,  the  news  of  his  own 
death  and  the  usurpation  of  his  minister ;  finding, 
on  further  inquiry,  the  party  of  the  usurper  to  be 
too  strong  to  render  an  immediate  disclosure  pru- 
dent, he  preserved  his  incognito,  and  soon  became 
known  in  Cairo  as  the  wealthiest  of  her  mer- 
chants ;  nor  did  it  excite  any  surprise  when  he 
announced  his  pious  intention  of  devoting  a  por- 
tion of  his  gains  to  the  erection  of  a  spacious 
mosque.  The  work  proceeded  rapidly  under  the 
spur  of  the  great  merchant's  gold,  and,  on  its 
completion,  he  solicited  the  honor  of  the  sultan's 
presence  at  the  ceremony  of  naming  it.  Antici- 
pating the  gratification  of  hearing  his  own  name 
bestowed  upon  it,  the  usurper  accepted  the  invi- 
tation, and  at  the  appointed  hour  the  building 
was  filled  by  him  and  his  most  attached  adher- 
ents. The  ceremonies  had  duly  proceeded  to  the 
time  when  it  became  necessary  to  give  the  name. 
The  chief  Moolah,  turning  to  the  supposed  mer- 
chant, inquired  what  should  be  its  name?  "  Call 
it,"  he  replied,  "the  mosque  of  Sultan  Hassan." 
All  started  at  the  mention  of  this  name ;  and  the 
questioner,  as  though  not  believing  he  could  have 
heard  aright,  or  to  afford  an  opportunity  of  cor- 
recting what  might  be  a  mistake,  repeated  his 
demand.  "  Call  it,"  again  cried  he,  "  the  mosque 
of  me,  Sultan  Hassan  ;"  and  throwing  off  his 
disguise,  the  legitimate  sultan  stood  revealed  be- 
fore his  traitorous  servant.  He  4iad  no  time  for 
reflection  :  simultaneously  with  the  discovery, 
numerous  trap-doors,  leading  to  extensive  vaults, 
which  had  been  prepared  for  the  purpose,  were 
flung  open,  and  a  multitude  of  armed  men  issu- 
ing from  them,  terminated  at  once  the  reign  and 


life  of  the  usurper.  His  followers  were  mingled 
in  the  slaughter,  and  Sultan  Hassan  was  once 
more  in  possession  of  the  throne  of  his  fathers. 


MANNERS  IN  NEW  YORK  IN  THE    DUTCH 
TIMES. 

BY   WASHINGTON   IRVING. 

THE  houses  of  the  higher  class  were  general)  j 
constructed  of  wood,  excepting  the  gab'e 
end,  which  was  of  small  black  and  yellow  Dutc  h 
bricks,  and  always  faced  on  the  street ;  as  oir 
ancestors,  like  their  descendants,  were  very  mu,:h 
given  to  outward  show,  and  were  noted  for 
putting  the  best  leg  foremost.  The  house  was 
always  furnished  with  abundance  of  large  doors 
and  small  windows  on  every  floor ;  the  date  of  its 
erection  was  curiously  designated  by  iron  figures 
on  the  front ;  and  on  the  top  of  the  roof  was 
perched  a  fierce  little  weathercock,  to  let  the 
famil}'  into  the  important  secret  which  wa}r  the 
wind  blew.  These,  like  the  weathercocks  on 
the  tops  of  our  steeples,  pointed  so  many  dif- 
ferent ways,  that  every  man  could  have  a  wind 
to  his  mind  ;  and  you  would  have  thought  old 
iEolus  had  set  all  his  bags  of  wind  adrift,  pell- 
mell,  to  gambol  about  this  wind}'  metropolis  ;  the 
most  stanch  and  loyal  citizens,  however,  always 
went  according  to  the  weathercock  on  the  top 
of  the  governor's  house,  which  was  certainly  the 
most  correct,  as  he  had  a  trusty  servant  employed 
every  morning  to  climb  up  and  point  it  which- 
ever way  the  wind  blew. 

In  those  good  days  of  simplicity  and  sunshine, 
a  passion  for  cleanliness  was  the  leading  principle 
in  domestic  economy,  and  the  universal  test  of 
an  able  housewife  ;  a  character  which  formed  the 
utmost  ambition  of  our  unenlightened  grand- 
mothers. The  front  door  was  never  opened  except 
on  marriages,  funerals,  New-Year's  days,  the 
festival  of  St.  Nicholas,  or  some  such  great  occa- 
sion. It  was  ornamented  with  a  gorgeous  brass 
knocker  curiously  wrought,  sometimes  into  the 
device  of  a  dog,  and  sometimes  of  a  lion's  head  ; 
and  was  daily  burnished  with  such  religious  zeal, 
that  it  was  ofttimes  worn  out  by  the  very  precau- 
tions taken  for  its  preservation.  The  whole  house 
was  constantly  in  a  state  of  inundation,  under  the 
discipline  of  mops,  and  brooms,  and  scrubbing- 
brushes  ;  and  the  good  housewives  of  those  days 
were  a  kind  of  amphibious   animal,   delighting 


612 


THE   WONDERFUL,   THE   CURIOUS,   AND   THE 


exceedingly  to  be  dabbling  in  water,  insomuch 
that  a  historian  of  the  day  gravel}-  tells  us,  that 
man}-  of  his  townswomen  grew  to  have  webbed 
fingers  like  unto  a  duck  ;  and  some  of  them,  he 
had  little  doubt,  could  the  matter  be  examined 
into,  would  be  found  to  have  the  tails  of  mer- 
maids ;  but  this  I  look  upon  to  be  a  mere  sport 


THE   BURGHER. 

of  fancy,  or,  what  is  worse,  a  wilful  misrepresen- 
tation. 

The  grand  parlor  was  the  sanctum  sanctorum, 
where  the  passion  for  cleaning  was  indulged  with- 
out control.  In  this  sacred  apartment  no  one  was 
permitted  to  enter  excepting  the  mistress  and  her 
confidential  maid,  who  visited  it  once  a  week  for 
the  purpose  of  giving  it  a  thorough  cleaning,  and 


putting  things  to  rights,  always  taking  the  pre- 
caution of  leaving  their  shoes  at  the  door,  and 
entering  devoutly  in  their  stocking  feet.  After 
scrubbing  the  floor,  sprinkling  it  with  fine  white 
sand,  which  was  curiously  stroked  into  angles, 
and  curves,  and  rhomboids,  with  a  broom,  after 
washing  the  windows,  rubbing  and  polishing  the 
furniture,  and  putting  a 
new  bunch  of  evergreens 
in  the  fireplace,  the  win- 
dow-shutters were  again 
closed  to  keep  out  the 
flies,  and  the  room  care- 
fully locked  up  until  the 
revolution  of  time  brought 
round  the  weekly  cleaning 
day. 

As  to  the  family,  they 
always  entered  in  at  the 
gate,  and  most  generally 
lived  in  the  kitchen.  To 
have  seen  a  numerous 
household  assembled 
around  the  fire,  one  would 
have  imagined  that  he 
was  transported  back  to 
those  happy  days  of  pri- 
meval simplicity  which 
float  before  our  imagina- 
tions like  golden  visions. 
The  fireplaces  were  of  a 
truly  patriarchal  magni- 
tude, where  the  whole 
family,  old  and  young, 
master  and  servant,  black 
and  white,  nay,  even  the 
very  cat  and  dog,  enjoyed 
a  community  of  privilege, 
and  had  each  a  prescrip- 
tive right  to  a  corner. 
Here  the  old  burgher 
would  sit  in  perfect  si- 
lence, puffing  his  pipe, 
looking  in  the  fire  with  half-shut  eyes,  and 
thinking  of  nothing  for  hours  together ;  the  goede 
vrouw  on  the  opposite  side  would  employ  herself 
diligently  in  spinning  her  yarn  or  knitting  stock- 
ings. The  young  folks  would  crowd  around  the 
hearth  listening  with  breathless  attention  to  some 
old  crone  of  a  negro  who  was  the  oracle  of  the 
family,  and  who,  perched  like  a  raven  in  a  corner 


BEAUTIFUL   IN   THE   WORLD'S    HISTORY. 


613 


of  the  chimney,  would  croak  forth  for  a  long 
winter  afternoon  a '  string  of  incredible  stories 
about  New  England  witches,  grisly  ghosts,  horses 
without  heads,  and  hairbreadth  escapes  and  bloody 
encounters  among  the  Indians. 

In  those  happy  days  a  well-regulated  family  al- 
ways rose  with  the  dawn,  dined  at  eleven,  and 
went  to  bed  at  sundown.  Dinner  was  invariably 
a  private  meal,  and  the  fat  old  burghers  showed 
incontestable  symptoms  of  disapprobation  and 
uneasiness  at  being  surprised  by  a  visit  from  a 
neighbor  on  such  occasions.  But  though  our 
worthy  ancestors  were  thus  singularly  averse  to 
giving  dinners,  yet  they  kept  up  the  social  bonds 
of  intimacy  by  occasional  banquetings,  called  tea- 
parties. 

As  this  is  the  first  introduction  of  those  delec- 
table orgies,  which  have  since  become  so  fashion- 
able in  this  city,  I  am  conscious  my  fair  readers 
will  be  very  curious  to  receive  information  on  the 
subject.  Sorry  am  I  that  there  will  be  but  little 
in  my  description  calculated  to  excite  their  ad- 
miration. I  can  neither  delight  them  with 
accounts  of  suffocating  crowds,  nor  brilliant 
drawing-rooms,  nor  towering  feathers,  nor  spark- 
ling diamonds,  nor  immeasurable  trains.  I  can 
detail  no  choice  anecdotes  of  scandal,  for  in  those 
primitive  times  the  simple  folk  were  either  too 
stupid  or  too  good-natured  to  pull  each  other's 
characters  to  pieces  ;  nor  can  I  furnish  any  whim- 
sical anecdotes  of  brag ;  how  one  lady  cheated, 
or  another  bounced  into  a  passion ;  for  as  yet 
there  was  no  junto  of  dulcet  old  dowagers  who 
met  to  win  each  other's  money  and  lose  their  own 
tempers  at  a  card-table. 

These  fashionable  parties  were  generally  con- 
fined to  the  higher  classes,  or  noblesse — that  is  to 
say,  such  as  kept  their  own  cows  and  drove  their 
own  wagons.  The  company  commonly  assem- 
bled at  three  o'clock,  and  went  away  about  six, 
unless  it  was  in  winter  time,  when  the  fashionable 
hours  were  a  little  earlier,  that  the  ladies  might 
get  home  before  dark.  I  do  not  find  that  they 
ever  treated  their  company  to  iced  creams,  jellies, 
or  syllabubs,  or  regaled  them  with  musty  al- 
monds, mouldy  raisins,  or  sour  oranges,  as  is 
often  done  in  the  present  age  of  refinement.  Our 
ancestors  were  fond  of  more  sturdy  substantial 
fare.  The  tea-table  was  crowned  with  a  huge 
earthen  dish  well  stored  with  slices  of  fat  pork, 
fried  brown,  cut  up  into  morsels,  and  swimming 


in  gravy.  The  company  being  seated  around  the 
genial  board,  and  each  furnished  with  a  fork, 
evinced  their  dexterity  in  launching  at  the  fattest 
pieces  of  this  mighty  dish,  in  much  the  same 
manner  as  sailors  harpoon  porpoises  at  sea,  or  our 
Indians  spear  salmon  in  the  lakes.  Sometimes 
the  table  was  graced  with  immense  apple-pies,  or 
saucers  full  of  preserved  peaches  and  pears  ;  but 
it  was  always  sure  to  boast  of  an  enormous  dish 
of  balls  of  sweetened  dough  fried  in  hog's  fat, 
and  called  dough-nuts,  or  oly  koeks  ;  a  delicious 
kind  of  cake,  at  present  scarce  known  in  this  city, 
excepting  in  genuine  Dutch  families. 

The  tea  was  served  out  of  a  majestic  delft  tea- 
pot ornamented  with  paintings  of  fat  little  Dutch 
shepherds  and  shepherdesses,  tending  pigs — with 
boats  sailing  in  the  air,  and  houses  built  in  the 
clouds,  and  sundry  other  ingenious  Dutch  fan- 
tasies. The  beaux  distinguished  themselves  by 
their  adroitness  in  replenishing  this  pot  from  a 
huge  copper  tea-kettle,  which  would  have  made 
the  pigmy  macaronies  of  these  degenerate  days 
sweat  merely  to  look  at  it.  To  sweeten  the  bever- 
age, a  lump  of  sugar  was  laid  beside  each  cup, 
and  the  company  alternately  nibbled  and  sipped 
with  great  decorum,  until  an  improvement  was 
introduced  by  a  shrewd  and  economic  old  lady, 
which  was,  to  suspend  a  large  lump  directly  over 
the  tea-table  by  a  string  from  the  ceiling,  so  that 
it  could  be  swung  from  mouth  to  mouth — an  in- 
genious expedient,  which  is  still  kept  up  by  some 
families  in  Albany,  but  which  prevails,  without 
exception,  in  Communipaw,  Bergen,  Flat-Bush, 
and  all  our  uncontaminated  Dutch  villages. 

At  these  primitive  tea-parties  the  utmost  pro- 
priety and  dignity  of  deportment  prevailed.  No 
flirting  nor  coquetting — no  gambling  of  old  ladies, 
nor  hoyden  chattering  and  romping  of  young 
ones — no  self-satisfied  struttings  of  wealthy  gentle- 
men with  their  brains  in  their  pockets  ;  nor  amus- 
ing conceits  and  monkey  divertisements  of  smart 
young  gentlemen  with  no  brains  at  all.  On  the 
contrary,  the  young  ladies  seated  themselves 
demurely  in  their  rush-bottomed  chairs,  and  knit 
their  own  woollen  stockings ;  nor  ever  opened 
their  lips,  excepting  to  say  yah  Mynheer  or  yah 
ya  Vrouw  to  any  question  that  was  asked  them  ; 
behaving  in  all  things  like  decent  well-educated 
damsels.  As  to  the  gentlemen,  each  of  them 
tranquilly  smoked  his  pipe,  and  seemed  lost  in 
contemplation  of   the  blue  and  white  tiles  with 


614 


THE    WONDERFUL,    THE    CURIOUS,    AND    THE 


which  the  fireplaces  were  decorated ;  wherein 
sundry  passages  of  Scripture  were  piously  por- 
trayed :  Tobit  and  his  dog  figured  to  great  advan- 
tage ;  Haman  swung  conspicuously  on  his  gibbet ; 
and  Jonah  appeared  most  manfully  bouncing  out 
of  the  whale,  like  Harlequin  through  a  barrel 
of  fire. 

The  parties  broke  up  without  noise  and  without 
confusion.  They  were  carried  home  by  their 
own  carriages — that  is  to  say,  by  the  vehicles 
nature  had  provided  them,  excepting  such  of  the 
wealthy  as  could  aford  to  keep  a  wagon.  The 
gentlemen  gallantly  attended  their  fair  ones  to 
their  respective  abodes,  and  took  leave  of  them 
with  a  hearty  smack  at  the  door  ;  which,  as  it  was 
an  established  piece  of  etiquette,  done  in  perfect 
simplicity  and  honesty  of  heart,  occasioned  no 
scandal  at  that  time,  nor  should  it  at  the  present 
— if  our  great-grandfathers  approved  of  the  cus- 
tom, it  would  argue  a  great  want  of  reverence  in 
their  descendants  to  say  a  word  against  it. 


SAD     HISTORY     OF      THE      WIVES     OF      THE 
BONAPARTES. 

GUGENIE  MARIE  DE  MONTIJO,  wife  of 
Louis  Napoleon,  was  born  at  Grenada, 
Spain,  May  5,  1826,  just  five  years  after  the  death 
of  Napoleon  I.  at  Saint  Helena.  This  date,  doubly 
historic  for  the  Napoleonic  dynasty  by  the  death 
of  the  first  Emperor  and  the  birth  of  the  last  Em- 
press, has  suggested  to  a  French  writer  some  in- 
teresting reflections  upon  the  women  who  have 
become  the  wives  of  the  Bonapartes.  Not  one  of 
these  wives  was  continuously  happy,  for  their  pass- 
ing moments  of  splendor  and  joy  were  expiated 
by  cruel  reverses.  Other  Queens  have  not  been 
spared,  but  it  seems  as  though  a  sort  of  fatality 
weighed  upon  the  Bonapartes. 

Of  the  five  sons  of  Charles  Bonaparte  and  L,e- 
titia  Ramolino,  Joseph,  the  eldest,  married  Julia 
Clary,  daughter  of  a  rich  tradesman  of  Marseilles. 
In  May,  180S,  Joseph  was  made  King  of  Spain  in 
spite  of  himself,  and  started  unwillingly  for  his 
kingdom,  where  he  was  received  by  his  subjects 
with  unequivocal  demonstrations  of  extreme  dis- 
like. After  coming  to  grief  with  the  downfall  of 
his  powerful  brother,  Joseph  wandered  with  his 
wife  about  the  two  worlds,  and  finally  died  at 
Florence,  Italy,  leaving  a  widow,  old,  isolated 
and  proscribed. 


Josephine's  fate  was  still  more  sorrowful,  for 
she  had  the  bitter  chagrin  of  seeing  during  five 
years  a  foreigner  occupy  her  place  at  the  side  of 
the  man  she  had  so  fondly  loved.  Maria  Louisa, 
of  Austria,  who  became  Empress  after  Josephine 
had  been  sacrificed,  suffered  cruelly  in  her  pride, 
if  not  in  her  tenderness,  in  falling  from  the  dizzy 
heights  where  an  extraordinary  genius  had  raised 
her,  to  the  narrow  prison  of  a  petty  and  humilia- 
ting principality. 

Lucien  Bonaparte  married,  in  1794,  an  obscure 
girl  named  Christine  Boyer,  by  whom  he  had  two 
sons,  and,  after  her  death,  in  1S02,  Alexandrine 
Jouberthon,  the  divorced  wife  of  a  stockbroker. 
Napoleon  was  furious,  and  it  was  a  long  while  be- 
fore he  forgave  his  brother  for  marrying  a  com- 
moner when  he  had  dreamed  of  forming  royal  al- 
liances for  his  relatives.  Alexandrine  was  beau- 
tiful and  ambitious,  and  hoped  by  her  marriage  to 
eventually  wear  a  crown.  Lucien's  calm  and  un- 
aspiring nature  deprived  her  of  this  gratification, 
and  she  died  in  oblivion  at  Sinigaglia,  Italy,  in 
1S55,  perceiving  in  the  distance  the  rays  of  a 
dawning  empire  in  which  she  had  no  place. 

The  fourth  son,  Louis,  was  married  against  his 
will  to  Hortense  Beauharnais,  daughter  of  the 
Empress  Josephine  by  her  first  husband.  To  avoid 
this  marriage  he  ran  away  to  Prussia,  and  believed 
he  had  escaped  the  peril  a  second  time  by  joining 
the  expedition  to  Portugal.  But  Napoleon  had 
set  his  heart  upon  this  match,  and  Louis  was 
finally  obliged  to  yield  to  the  despotic  will  of  the 
master.  If  the  union  was  an  ill-starred  one  for 
Louis,  it  also  ended  badly  for  Hortense.  Sepa- 
rated from  her  husband  in  1S07,  she  was  obliged, 
three  years  later,  at  the  marriage  ceremony  of  Na- 
poleon I.  and  Maria  Louisa,  to  sustain  with  the 
other  Queens  of  her  family  the  mantle  of  the  new 
Empress,  who  had  succeeded  her  own  mother  in 
Napoleon's  affections.  When  the  allies  entered 
Paris  she  was  banished  from  France,  and  died  in 
exile  at  the  chateau  of  Arenberg. 

Jerome,  the  younger  son,  married  in  1803 
Elizabeth  Patersou,  of  Baltimore,  and  incurred 
Napoleon's  wrath  the  same  as  Lucien  had  done. 
But  not  having  Lucien's  strength  of  character  he 
quickly  abandoned  his  young  wife,  and  obeyed 
all  the  commands  of  his  powerful  brother.  Miss 
Patterson  was  beautiful  and  as  ambitious  as  Alex- 
andrine Jouberthon,  and  the  disappointment  at 
seeing  her  marriage  treated  as  naught  by  the  First 


BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


615 


Consul,  and  afterward  annulled  by  the  Council  of      to  a  great  age,  she  always  bore  the  secret  suffer- 
State,  cast  a  blight  over  her  whole  life.     All  the      ing  of  a  victim  of  despotic  power.     Catherine  of 


JOSEPHINE   IN    HER   YOUTH. 

flattery  and  attentions  that  she  received  from  the  Wurtemberg,  whom  Jerome  took  as  his  second 
highest  nobility  in  Europe  after  the  Emperor's  wife,  was  only  for  an  instant  Queen  of  Westpha- 
downfall  never  consoled  her.     Although  she  lived      lia,  a  kingdom  that  Napoleon  had  carved  out  of 


(6x6) 


EUGENIB   IN    HER   GIRiHOOD. 


THE    BEAUTIFUL  IN   THE   WORLD'S   HISTORY. 


617 


Ms  conquests  in  Germany,  as  a  wedding  gift  for 
his  obedient  brother.  Dethroned  in  1813,  exiled 
and  reduced  to  comparative  indigence,  Catherine 
wandered  with  her  husband  through  Austria, 
Italy  and"  Switzerland,  dying  at  Lausanne  thirty 
years  before  her  fickle  companion,  who  soon  con- 
soled himself  with  a  morganatic  wife. 

The  two  living  examples  of  the  fatality  which 
seems  to  weigh  upon  the  women  whose  fortunes 
have  been  linked,  either  by  affection  or  interest, 
to  the  Bonapartes,  are  not  less  tragical  than  the 
others.  First  in  point  of  years  and  position  is  the 
ex-Empress  Eugenie,  who,  notwithstanding  her 
undoubted  nobility,  was  looked  upon  almost  as  an 
adventuress  when  she  came  to  Paris  with  her 
mother  from  Madrid,  where  she  had  failed  to  at- 
tract any  special  notice.  Her  beauty  alone  capti- 
vated Prince  Louis  Napoleon,  who,  against  all 
the  protests  of  his  political  advisers,  made  her  his 
■consort  after  the  coup  d'etat.  For  thirteen  years 
the  life  of  the  Empress  was  a  series  of  triumphs. 
It  seemed  as  though  the  golden  dream  would  never 
end,  when,  suddenly,  all  her  hopes  were  swept 
away  with  the  rapidity  and  remorselessness  of  a 
thunderbolt.  Obliged  to  quit  her  adopted  country 
by  the  aid»of  the  court  dentist,  she  has  since 
passed  her  life  in  keeping  up  a  semblance  of  roy- 
alty, first  at  Chiselhurst  and  now  at  Farnborough, 
and  in  wandering  from  the  English  mists  to  the 
Mediterranean  sun,  always  mourning  over  the  loss 
of  her  former  greatness  and  the  void  made  in 
her  declining  widowhood  by  the  death  of  her 
only  son. 

If  she  occasionally  visits  Paris  incognita,  she 
never  has  the  courage  to  remain  long  in  a  capital 
where    at  every   step    she   meets  visions  of  her 


former  splendor  and  not  a  few  reminders  of  her 
terrible  downfall. 

The  Princess  Clotilda  has  never  occupied  a 
throne,  but  her  life  was  associated  with  a  Bona- 
parte who  always  hoped  that  his  turn  to  rule 
France  would  eventually  come.  There  is  no  rea- 
son to  suppose  that  her  existence  would  have  been 
happier  had  the  political  fortunes  of  her  husband 
raised  her  to  a  higher  position.  Her  marriage 
with  Prince  Jerome,  son  of  the  ex-King  of  West- 
phalia, was  a  political  bargain,  the  price  of  which 
was  Italian  unification  by  French  arms.  Sold  by 
her  father  when  almost  a  child,  sacrificed  by  her 
country,  deceived  and  offended  by  a  libidinous 
husband,  the  princess  was  constantly  wounded 
and  disdained  at  a  frivolous  court  where  her  sim- 
ple virtues  formed  a  striking  contrast  not  only  to 
those  of  her  husband  but  to  those  of  the  butterflies 
that  hovered  about  the  more  brilliant  but  less 
straight-laced  Empress  Eugenie.  Obliged  by  the 
notorious  misconduct  of  Prince  Jerome  to  live 
apart  from  him,  the  Princess  Clotilda  retired  to 
the  old  chateau  of  Moncalieri,  near  Turin,  where 
she  has  resided  for  the  past  twenty  years.  Dur- 
ing this  time  she  saw  her  husband  rarely,  but 
when  he  was  taken  ill  at  Rome  she  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  go  to  his  bedside  and  show  an  admirable 
devotion  to  the  end.  For  all  this  zeal  she  had 
the  supreme  sorrow  of  finding  that  she  was  in- 
sulted in  the  prince's  testament,  and  disinherited 
of  property  that  he  owed  in  great  part  to  the  lib- 
erality of  her  father  and  her  brother.  The  Prin- 
cess Clotilda,  who  was  married  when  she  was  16, 
is  now  (1891)  48  years  old,  but  her  sorrows  have 
long  ago  whitened  her  once  blonde  hair  and  givep 
her  a  prematurely  aged  look. 


, 


